(I'm not ranting, I am foaming at the mouth because of the blatant, bold, ugly, pernicious manipulation of information about Iran and its supposed supply of weaponry to insurgents in Iraq -- these lies can only be part of the coming war against Iran)
We don't live in the Third Galazy, do we?
Do they really think they can trot out the same order of tripe they fed us four years ago before their illegal, unprovoked, unnecessary, useless, not to mention disastrous, corrupt and criminal war against Iraq?
Well, I don't know what they think, or if they even have the prerequisite brain matter needed to think.
How dare they parse such garbage and call it "news"? Of what value is the print on newspaper when "the paper of record", the New York Times, repeats obvious falsity as fact -- stories which could make even Judith Miller blush?
Weapons in Iraq were made in Iran and are killing American boys and girls? (true, many are middle aged, because of the way they wiggle the use of reservists, but hey, warping the truth is the hallmark of this regime) Well, we have to believe it, even though the numbers on the weapons are in the wrong language -- I mean, the gov't has never lied to us before, so why should they start now?
I have doubted good sense up to now, but, yes, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus and the war on Iran is coming.
I predict April 1 -- a foolish date I know, but suitable for such a foolish, foul and criminal act
I dare you to take a good look at the beans I have in this jar.
I got them last night from a madman I met in a stinky old bar.
He swore they were sure good for something, but I didn't quite catch what it was
he screamed like a dying folk singer carried away in a flood
of crazy young college drinkers who broke down the barroom door,
dragged him by his feet out in the street and left his jar on the floor
I want you to come a bit closer and examine what's here in the jar,
I'm pretty sure you will see just what these beans really are!
There were three billion beans when I got them and now there are three billion more.
Soon, the jar will break and spill all the beans on the floor.
What will happen then to the beans? Will they just lie there until they rot up?
Or will Somebody suddenly come and suddenly gather them up,
sort them and put them in a new jar far better than the one before?
I want you to come yet closer and press your ear to the jar,
I want you to hear the sounds of a fear which is near and not far,
a fear which mutates to hate -- a hate which is felt more than seen...
Did you know that the things that you do can often come back and haunt you