Monday, June 27, 2016

Wine and Cheese

Spent yesterday doing two of my two favorite things, wine and cheese, and the Kennedy assassination. I've come full circle on the latter. Listening to all the ideas about what happened in Dallas on November 22, 1963, and after enough wine, I developed an image in my mind of the faces, and positions of shooters in the plaza that day.  I could imagine J. Edgar Hoover in the county records building, Gordon Liddy hiding in a sewer, George H. W. Bush supervising from the sidewalk in front of the Texas School Book Depository, Lyndon Johnson bringing up the rear, Fidel Castro hiding behind the fence atop the grassy knoll, and last, but not least, the driver of the presidential limo, stopping the car so he could turn and deliver the kill shot!

I watched a whole bunch of videos under the umbrella of "Fifty Years." First of all that made me feel old when I realize that I remembered that event as if it were yesterday. Next, I realized that these people expounding these theories had all been born after the assassination. As we, of the Kennedy years die off there is a whole new crop of wackos there to take the torch, or eternal flame, and forge on in the search for “the truth.” Then a truth hit me in the face. Fifty years! It's been fifty freaking years! Slowly, my mind began to focus. A little more wine, a few more videos. All of these people agree on one thing. Kennedy was killed by a huge, multi-layered conspiracy stretching from Dallas to the Kremlin. From Bourbon Street to Havana. From the Pentagon to some cat house in Mexico City. Everybody was in on it. And in fifty long years nobody broke the silence. Let that soak in for a minute.

Now I want you to think about our government’s score card for successful and secret plots during that same period of time. Politicians construct an image of themselves, an image that bleeds over to the constructed government we’ve all come to know and love. Strong in stature, eyes steeled upon the horizon, the winds of destiny forever blowing in their hair. They never have to go to the bathroom, and if they do, it doesn't smell bad. They all have one thing in common. They cannot accomplish a single thing without all the cats getting out of the bag, and spraying the room. Whistle blowers? How about the New York Symphony Orchestra? Shall we peel the onion?

Lyndon Johnson,  Gulf of Tonkin. We bought that for years until it splattered all over the press that the driving force behind the Vietnam war was a contrived lie in order to make the war profiteers rich. Johnson charged into that mess like a cowboy, and got beat up by a bunch of skinny kids in pajamas with sharp sticks. I Crappith Thee NOT! I cried my teenage butt off at the last scene from John Wayne’s “Green Berets.” When I see the Vets sitting in the VA dying for an appointment I'm still crying!

Then here came Richard “Outhouse” Nixon. His elite, his expert spies, the cream of the crop, the same dudes that engineered the Bay of Pigs, couldn't pull off a burglary that a crackhead could do. Then he digs himself into a hole by recording what amounted to be a confession, and visibly erasing eighteen minutes. Now people, he set up those recordings himself! How stupid was that? Right on up there with the Germans immaculate records of the holocaust! And this bastion of conservatism, this Quaker used language that would make a sailor blush with shame. Before it was all over two cub reporters put his business in the street. Got drunk, blubbered some crap about his mother on national TV, and got one more free ride to his exile the next day. Bada Bing, Bada boom! Oh, one side note; the burglars were the same idiots who supposedly set up the JFK thing. Go figure!

Carter wasn't too bad. About the only thing was he couldn't find a girl friend, but he thought about it a lot.  Oh, and that little problem with Iran busting his balls forEVER! I will give the Ayatollah Khomeini one thing, he didn't kill any of the hostages. It was too much fun watching Carter talk about “sin in his heart” while his brother started a brewery.

Reagan! Can I say, “Iran Contra?” Yeah, y'all remember that, don't you? Little deal Reagan cut with Iran (IRAN!?) to fund a bunch of cigar chomping rebels in Nicaragua. You see, we were selling arms to Iran, and then funneling the profits into a sink hole in South America. You can't make this stuff up, folks. Oliver North tweaked this mess in order to overthrow the government of Nicaragua because they were communist, and we already had a communist in Cuba. At least Reagan never went on the air declaring that he wasn't a crook, right? End result was the rebels didn't win, and the Ayatollah laughed his butt off.

George H. W. Bush. Never trust a guy with four names. Dove into Iraq, and didn't even finish the job. Signed an  agreement with the very guy he was after on the promise that he wouldn't be a bad boy anymore. Years later Bush II charges back over there because he couldn't tell the difference between a Sunni and a Shi’a. “Them boys all look alike to me.” He went looking for weapons of mass destruction based on  a big ol’ LIE, and successfully destabilized the entire region. This gave us the “Arab Spring” (Springtime for Hitler?) which we still enjoy today. For the record, folks, Arabs don't have a spring, it's always hot over there.

And last, but not least, Bill “Horndawg” Clinton! Now this is a rough one, get the kids out of the room because there's simply no way to address his administration without UNdressing Miss Lewinsky. Now, this article began by suggesting the government can't keep a lid on anything, and this one takes the cake, or takes the pizza, rather. This cat can't get away with a hot date with a twenty-two year old girl while the Secret Service was guarding the door. The, uh, same Secret Service that was keeping a wary eye on Kennedy back in ’63 I might add. The forensic evidence? Well, there was this unwashed dress she kept a hanging in her closet. Now, I'm just a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin, and I've picked up “10 at 2” that morphed into a “2 at 10,” but boys and girls, they all washed their clothes, ok? And these were TEXAS girls! The most powerful man in the world. Ah, such is life. When the Swallows return to the White House . . . I mean Capistrano.

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