LOSERS? SUCKERS? NOW, IT'S YOUR TURN ---

Thank to to one and all.  I owe you all a deep bow of respect and the assurance that I enjoy your contributions to the other side of my brain and my heart.  I am grateful that you have chimed in with your thoughts and your feelings.  I am firmly convinced that the truth is a 360 degree reality and that any one of us rarely can claim to the entire 360.

I was glad to hear from one of my correspondents with whom I had not exchanged thoughts for many months.  His contribution comes in answer to the above referenced post.  In gratitude for him and in fairness to you all, it is here: https://www.dailywire.com/news/10-witnesses-go-on-the-record-stating-atlantic-report-on-trump-denigrating-troops-is-a-lie-2?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=benshapiro

Thank you, Anthony.

Peace and joy to you all.

LOSERS? SUCKERS? PATRONS OF GENEROSITY!

 

This is a picture of one of The Village Idiot's "suckers."  Yes, Donald, Valmore Bourque lives on in glory and it will never be less.  He was a kind and gentle boy, a fierce competitor, an above average shortstop and faithful to his God.  I was his "left wing" at 2nd base.  We went to different high schools but we always played together during the Summer.  He was the better athlete and therefore deserved to be scouted by the Pittsburgh Pirates.  It was during a game when the Pittsburgh scout was in the stands that Valmore's father delivered his acceptance letter to the newly founded Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs.  "Val" never hesitated...The Air Force Academy it was.

I was on a different path.  I was in the upper levels of Seminary at one of the Papal Universities in Rome, Italy.  I knew that "Val" had graduated and was assigned to serve in Viet Nam.  Just shortly before my ordination to the priesthood, I got the news that "Val" had been shot out of the air over Saigon, Viet Nam.  I have never forgotten the moment when I got the news.  I never will.  

Yes, Donald, Valmore Bourque lives on in the admiring hearts of the people of South Hadley, Massachuetts as a true hero.  He, unlike you, gave his life for all of us.  You don't give anything to anyone for which you will be remembered in ignominy as the slimy crocodile, king of the losers who presently inhabit the D.C. Swamp.

ANARCHIST JURISDICTION ??? HUNHH ???

Anarchy -- from the Greek --  an-(without) + arkos (leader) -- without leader

Jurisdiction --  from the Latin -- juris-(law) + dicere (say) -- the right to say

The depth of the ignorance of those who would dare to govern this country is on full and brigthly lit display by adressing a directive to the "anarchist jurisdictions."  Thanks for the polysyllabic sesquipedalianistic oxymoron.  Anarchists do not believe in jurisdictions.  Only the dunces surrounding the Village Idiot of the District on the shores of the Potomac could ever believe that those two words could mean anything to anyone.

Great pair - DJT The Anarchist Demagogue

+ The Sophist that keeps DJT happy

I will be paying close attention to how the Head Sophist will twist the accepted root meaning of the designation "Anarchist Jurisdiction" to mean anything.  I'm betting that since there are perhaps few voters who can be fooled by the use of words composed of more than one syllable, some will feel cozy in the aura of ignorance projected by the flashy sound of "Anarchist Jurisdictions."  

It is a lot safer for you to stick to mono-syllabic Anglo-Saxon words.  They might be easier for your room temperature IQ to handle.

Finally, it is clear to me that a concept requiring seven syllables is way too much  than what DJT, the Village Idiot can comprehend.  This going to be fun to watch.

LAW and ORDER ≠ PEACE AND QUIET

 Trump campaign: 

“WE will make America Great Again.”  Hmmm?  That must mean that you failed at your first attempt so that now you have to start all over again.  Why are you waiting to start, again?  So now the rallying cry is, “LAW & ORDER”   I have a thought or two about that.

My first thought is:  "We Americans are deeply devoted to the culture of "Fair play."  "Fair play" is virtuous behavior built on mutual trust that asures that all concerned, winners as well as losers will profit from the exercise and be able to walk away from it with head held high.  This is our culture and it informs the entirety of our life.  In the culture of  "Fair play", the participants themselves work on the outcome.  They do so according to the laws that regulate the exercise of the effort.  They submit their efforts to the arbiters who are presumed to be neutral and fair.  This is our way of life.  We win some, we lose some.  The winners and the losers congratulate one another and in the space of time between "set-to's" they are at peace with one another.  The virtues of peace and justice are the way of life.

Law and Order are not driving, personal principles.  They are commands that are laid before the populace by an authority and compliance is not aimed at developing virtuous behavior.  The goal is to provide satisfaction to the authority so that communitarian problems don't cause unrest.  The goal of Law and Order" is to stifle the behavior of the community to the point where the authority doesn't get bothered by the need to solve community problems that are deemed to be outside of said authority's expectations.  

Behavior in a Law and Order regime is not rooted in the canon of universal or local laws and decrees.  Behavior in a Law and Order system is only rooted in the expectations of the authority.  The community's behavior in a Law and Order environment is not expected to make the members of  the community more virtuous.  It is only rewarded by the lack of punishment that subservience assures.

It is to be noted that the driving authority is not held by a personal conscience to be a shining example of the Law an Order behavior that is required of the citizenry.  A Law and Order authority is under absolutely no personal exigency to provide the subjects in this regime with an example of ideal behavior.

Furthermore, it is to be understood that the authority will not offer any creative solutions that may be called for in the wake of disastrous turn of events of any nature.  Since the authority is the enforcer of behavior, the citizenry will be expected to solve any and all problems.  The only feedback that will be given is the remark that the solution shows how ignorant the hard working people really are. 

Before clicking "Delete", don't forget to tie a string on your finger - Remember - VOTE

BRITISH JOKE, KING OF D.C. SWAMP, CHINESE FLU ATTACK?

What is the best British joke that you know?

I personally don't have one.  I received this one today on the Internet.  It may or may not become your favorite.  As far as I am concerned, the jury is still out.

Donald Trump met with the Queen of England, and asked, "Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient government? Is there any advice you can give me?"

"Well," replied the Queen, "the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people."

Trump frowned and then asked, "But how do I know if the people around me are really smart?"

The Queen took a sip of tea. "Oh, that's easy; just ask them to answer a riddle."

The Queen pressed a button on her intercom. "Please send Boris Johnson here, will you?"

The Prime Minister entered the room and said, "Yes, Your Majesty?"

The Queen smiled and said, "Answer me this, if you don't mind, Boris. Your mother and father have a child. It is neither your brother nor sister. Who is it?"

Without the slightest hesitation, Boris replied: "That would be me."

"Yes! Very well," said the Queen.

Trump returned home to ask Mike Pence the same question. "Mike, answer this for me. Your mother and father have a child. It is neither your brother nor your sister. Who is it?"

"I'm not sure," said Pence. "Let me think about it and I'll tell you." He went to his advisers and asked everyone, but none could give him an answer.

Finally, Pence met his friend Jack Murphy at a restaurant the following night. Pence asked him, "Jack, can you answer this for me? Your mother and father have a child and it is neither your brother nor your sister. Who is it?"

Jack Murphy replied immediately, "That's easy, it's me!"

Pence smiled and said, "Thanks!"

Pence then spoke to Trump again. "Let's just say that I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle: it's my friend Jack Murphy!"

Trump got up, ran over to confront Pence and yelled angrily, "No, you idiot! It's Boris Johnson!"

                                                          <><><><><><><><><>

SNEAKY SNAKE SNOOKERED

You all know this famous French writer of extraordinary wit.

François-Marie Arouet, known by his nom de plume Voltaire, was a French Enlightenment writer, historian, and philosopher famous for his wit, his criticism of Christianity—especially the Roman Catholic Church—as well as his advocacy of freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and separation of church and state. Wikipedia

It is very possible that not all of you do know him because your cultural background did not point you in his direction.  Too bad because he was a real craker-jack smack-down artist.  This is one of his most well-known and one that never seems to lose neither its favor nor its flavor:

                                  L'autre jour, au fond d'un vallon,

                                            - Un serpent piqua Jean Fréron.

                                            - Que pensez-vous qu'il arriva ?

                                            - Ce fut le serpent qui creva.

I hereby give myself the privilege of offering you two versions of the same snide attitude straight out of the early 18th century --

 

The other day on the White House lawn,

A lurking viper bit The Don;

What do you suppose happened then?

The viper died, never to bite again.

I thought that was OK, but then this crept through the mental cracks.  You can choose the one you like.

As Trump walked to board his aero ride,

A slinky viper’s fang pierced Don’s hide.

You all can surmise what came of it;

‘Twas the viper who died from what he bit!

I'm open to your rendition.  I haven't tried it in Spanish.  Go ahead, give it a whirl.

(A tip of my hat to Voltaire)

I CAN'T BREATHE -- I CAN'T BREATHE

It has been a long time since I have shouted out to the world on this page.  I have decided that this is a time that calls for me to reminisce about my journey through life vis-a-vis my attitude about police officers.  

Let me start back in 1942.  That's right, 1-9-4-2, way back in the WWII days.

         That's the year that I began attending school in the kindergarten.  It was the parrochial school where my Grandfather was a factotum roaming the entire property keeping things clean and in order. He was the one who taught me the way from the school to his apartment where I was scheduled to have my noon meal.  

          For the first week, he taught me how to walk in the city.  He showed me the way where I would have to cross the streets in order to be safest and protected from the busiest traffic patterns of other streets.  He also introduced me to Officer Griffin, the policeman who walked the streets of the ward in which the school and the apartment were located.  Officer Griffin and my grandfather, Joseph, were long time acquaintances and sincere exchangers of smiles and sincere "hello's" but not much more since Officer Griffin spoke no French and my grandfather's English was almost non-existent.  At the time, I spoke passable English on top of my native French.

          For a few years I would see Officer Griffin several times a month as I walked the neighborhood to and from Grandpa's house and the bus stop one block down the street in the opposite direction.  I would see that Officer Griffin knew just about every soul he saw.  I never saw him with any other facial expression than that of calm and peace.  In fact, he was about the only policeman that I ever saw because my home was in the outskirts of another municipality where there was no policeman walking the streets.  The only other "government" person whom I knew was the community warden in charge of WWII citizens' behavior, mostly in times of black-out drills and updates pertaining to them.

          Then, as the years passed I got to know some police in the town of my residence where my father was also a Selectman on the town council.  Then it happened.

          I was now an adult, home on vacation from overseas.  It was Christmas morning and there was an accumulation of about four inches of snow.  My mother and I went to the church and when we got there we ran into the chief of the local police, Donald St. Pierre.  Well, we shook hands and exchanged the usual banter about how it felt to see one another as adults after all the years of growing up together.   And of course the jab about "How can YOU be the chief of police?

          What I will never forget about that encounter was this little exchange:

Me:  "Did someone steal the snow plows?  Man, four inches all over the place!"

Him:  "Yeah, you want I should ruin the Christmas gift from God?"

Ouch!  I had been abused by the chief of police right in my home town! At church to boot. 

That was early 1970's.  

           I finished my life overseas and came back to the USA and settled in California.  By then, the cop on the beat had gone the way of the unicorn.  Also, I was now forging a career in a big city, with lots of different kinds of people and tough police.  That was 45 years ago.  In that time I have had my eyes opened and my heart ripped apart by the comportment of the Boys in Blue from sea to shining sea.  Of all the countries where I have lived and worked I have not seen the level of viciousness that I see here.  Every time I hear someone use a superlative adjective to qualify the USA I compare it to my experience in Italy, the Vatican, France, Mexico, Philippines and Canada.  I must say that the superlatives I hear do not apply to US.  

            In my entire life the only country where I have had to bear the news that the police had killed a person out of an extravagance of arrogant power is here in the USA.  The police live a culture of untouchability and dictatorial arrogance.  It will take centuries of pressure on that institution to change its culture.  By the time that happens, my memories of Officer Griffin will be snugly ensconced with me in the bosom of Abraham.