Someone Take The Wheel
5.21.2004
   
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5.20.2004
  Someone Give This Kid A Scholarship. Quick!

You Can't Mock the President or Say "Balls"
The Most Important Thing I Learned in School This Year
By BILLY WILSON

The following is an essay written by a High School sophomore in Freyburg, Maine, as the essay part of the final exam in his English class. His teacher sent it to CounterPunch as an example of the uprightness of modern youth.

The most important lesson I learned this year in school is to pay attention in class and not to doodle while the teacher is talking. The worst thing you can do is draw a picture that shows President Bush's head on a pole with blood gushing out of his bulging eyesballs. If you do something like this, it means you're probably going to blow up the Oklahoma Book Depsitory, or fly remote conrtrol planes into the White House, like the CIA did on 9/11. Even if you're only 15 like me, you can hijack a bus (like Sandra Bullock did in that cool movie, Speed), and drive it into the Bush ranch at Waco, and burn all the children to death.

I learned that drawing pictures of the President with his arms growing out of his head is no laughing matter. It's bad to make the President look stupider than he already is. You can't draw him writing memos on wide-ruled paper with a crayon, or dressed up like a cowboy and playing with toy pistols in the Awful Office. That type of humor isn't funny. You can't make him look like Alfred E. Newman from Mad Magazine, with blood gushing out of his ears.

It is OK to draw a picture of Saddam Hussein on all fours, with Condolisa Rice in a furry African bikini and rings around her neck, holding the evildooer on a leash, and Donald Rumsfeld whacking him on the behind and making him bark like a dog, because that's just a frat prank (like the sexy girl soldier Lindy English did at that prison in IsraelI mean Iraq). But the President is God, which is why his picture is on the dollar bill, and why you can't make him look like an elephant like those soldiers did. You know. Kneeling with his feet up in the air and one finger in his nose and the other in his anus. That's really bad.

You can't draw the president's face on a stick, even if you make it look like a lollypop or a Bubblehead doll. You are a bad person if you do that and if you do that, the Secret Police will come to your house at midnight and make you stand on a box with a shopping bag over your head and electrodes attached to your generals. Then they'll bulldoze your house into dust! (Which is way cool to see them do that on TV.)

If you make fun of the president that means you hate him and are a enemy combatant. The president has so much to worry about, like his physical fitness and if he takes his sedatives on time, he doesn't need some wise-ass kid sneaking into the Lincoln bedroom at night and f**king his wife (you shouldn't say f**k), or his really cute daughters, who drink a lot and fall down at parties and are pretty easy. The president was bad too, like his daughters, before he learned that Jesus wanted him to kill all the Arabs. The president is truly blessed, so you can't tell your freinds you made a videotape of him masturbating and sent it to Seymour Hersh. You can't do that, because one of your friends may be an informer for Homeland Security and then they'll chop your f**king head off!

What I learned this year is that the President is not someone to mock. Even if he is an idiot and a war criminal who deserves to be hanged, and even if no one in the media has the balls to say so. (You shouldn't say balls either.)

Billy Wilson

Billy Wilson can be reached through his teacher at: redspruce@comcast.net 
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5.18.2004
  Egads

Dear Mr. Okrent/Mr. Bovino,

I had assumed that your paper would indeed be commenting on Mr. Kerry's campaign for President of the United States of America. I think that much is a given. What would be appreciated however, would be a direct reply, either publicly or privately, to my email and the points I made therein.

Kind regards,

S. Dent
Tulsa, OK
----- Original Message -----
From: Public
To: someonetakethewheel
Sent: Saturday, May 15, 2004 7:03 PM
Subject: Re: Okrent's Article


Dear Ms. Dent,

I assure you I will be writing about The Times's coverage of Senator Kerry at some point between now and the election in November.

Yours sincerely,
Daniel Okrent
Public Editor

At 12:05 PM 3/19/2004, you wrote:

Dear Mr. Okrent,

The recent article by David Halbfinger is just plain pathetic. It's one thing to report on a month-long vacation by a sitting president. It's another to purposefully try to make a candidate look weak, thus playing into his opponent's hands, by criticizing how he just can't cut it on the campaign trail.

Most reasonable people understand how grueling campaign work is. Most reasonable people also understand the odds of falling off a snowboard.

Quit trying to frame the candidate's personality and focus on the issues. That is a reporter's job after all.

S. Dent
Tulsa, OK


Arthur Bovino
Office of the Public Editor
The New York Times
(212)556-7652

Original Letter In response to:

Amid Natural Splendor in Idaho, a Weary Kerry Gets Away From It All

By DAVID M. HALBFINGER (NYT) 1127 words
Late Edition - Final , Section A , Page 20 , Column 1
ABSTRACT - Sen John Kerry and his wife, Teresa Heinz Kerry, arrive at their Ketchum, Idaho, retreat for week of rest and relaxation; photo of Kerry snowboarding (M)

 
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  Go Home



A demonstrator takes part in a protest as former U.S. President George Bush Senior attends a dinner party hosted by Republicans Abroad at a hotel in central London, May 18, 2004. Bush is on a visit to the UK to raise funds for the re-election campaign of his son, the current U.S. President George W. Bush. REUTERS/Paul Hackett  
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5.17.2004
 

On the far-away island of Sala-ma-Sond,
Yertle the Turtle was king of the pond.
A nice little pond. It was clean. It was neat.
The water was warm. There was plenty to eat.
The turtles had everything turtles might need.
And they were all happy. Quite happy indeed.

They were... until Yertle, the king of them all,
Decided the kingdom he ruled was too small.
"I'm ruler", said Yertle, "of all that I see.
But I don't see enough. That's the trouble with me.
With this stone for a throne, I look down on my pond
But I cannot look down on the places beyond.
This throne that I sit on is too, too low down.
It ought to be higher!" he said with a frown.
"If I could sit high, how much greater I'd be!
What a king! I'd be ruler of all that I see!"

And Yertle, the Turtle King, gave a command.
He ordered nine turtles to swim to his stone
And, using these turtles, he built a new throne.
He made each turtle stand on another one's back
And he piled them all up in a nine-turtle stack.
And then Yertle climbed up. He sat down on the pile.
What a wonderful view! He could see 'most a mile!

"All mine!" Yertle cried. "Oh, the things I now rule!
I'm the king of a cow! And I'm the king of a mule!
I'm the king of a house! And, what's more, beyond that
I'm the king of a blueberry bush and a cat!
I'm Yertle the Turtle! Oh, marvelous me!
For I am the ruler of all that I see!"

And all through the morning, he sat up there high
Saying over and over, "A great king am I!"
Until 'long about noon. Then he heard a faint sigh.
"What's that?" snapped the king,and he looked down the stack.
And he saw, at the bottom, a turtle named Mack.
Just a part of his throne. And this plain little turtle
Looked up and he said, "Beg your pardon, King Yertle.
I've pains in my back and my shoulders and knees.
How long must we stand here, Your Majesty, please?"

"SILENCE!" the King of the Turtles barked back.
"I'm king, and you're only a turtle named Mack."

"You stay in your place while I sit here and rule.
I'm the king of a cow! And I'm the king of a mule!
I'm the king of a house! And a bush! And a cat!
But that isn't all. I'll do better than that!
My throne shall be higher!" his royal voice thundered,
"So pile up more turtles! I want 'bout two hundred!"

"Turtles! More turtles!" he bellowed and brayed.
And the turtles 'way down in the pond were afraid.
They trembled. They shook. But they came. They obeyed.
From all over the pond, they came swimming by dozens.
Whole families of turtles, with uncles and cousins.
And all of them stepped on the head of poor Mack.
One after another, they climbed up the stack.

Then Yertle the Turtle was perched up so high,
He could see forty miles from his throne in the sky!
"Hooray!" shouted Yertle. "I'm the king of the trees!
I'm king of the birds! And I'm king of the bees!
I'm king of the butterflies! King of the air!
Ah, me! What a throne! What a wonderful chair!
I'm Yertle the Turtle! Oh, marvelous me!
For I am the ruler of all that I see!"

Then again, from below, in the great heavy stack,
Came a groan from that plain little turtle named Mack.
"Your Majesty, please... I don't like to complain,
But down here below, we are feeling great pain.
I know, up on top you are seeing great sights,
But down here at the bottom we, too, should have rights.
We turtles can't stand it. Our shells will all crack!
Besides, we need food. We are starving!" groaned Mack.


"You hush up your mouth!" howled the mighty King Yertle.
"You've no right to talk to the world's highest turtle.
I rule from the clouds! Over land! Over sea!
There's nothing, no, NOTHING, that's higher than me!"


But, while he was shouting, he saw with surprise
That the moon of the evening was starting to rise
Up over his head in the darkening skies.
"What's THAT?" snorted Yertle. "Say, what IS that thing
That dares to be higher than Yertle the King?
I shall not allow it! I'll go higher still!
I'll build my throne higher! I can and I will!
I'll call some more turtles. I'll stack 'em to heaven!
I need 'bout five thousand, six hundred and seven!"


But, as Yertle, the Turtle King, lifted his hand
And started to order and give the command,
That plain little turtle below in the stack,
That plain little turtle whose name was just Mack,
Decided he'd taken enough. And he had.
And that plain little lad got a bit mad.
And that plain little Mack did a plain little thing.
He burped!
And his burp shook the throne of the king!


And Yertle the Turtle, the king of the trees,
The king of the air and the birds and the bees,
The king of a house and a cow and a mule...
Well, that was the end of the Turtle King's rule!
For Yertle, the King of all Sala-ma-Sond,
Fell off his high throne and fell Plunk! in the pond!


And today the great Yertle, that Marvelous he,
Is King of the Mud. That is all he can see.
And the turtles, of course... all the turtles are free
As turtles and, maybe, all creatures should be.


by Dr. Seuss  
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  VCR Alert

If you haven't seen STRIP SEARCH on HBO do so. No, it's not porn.

Acclaimed film director Sidney Lumet joins forces with Emmy®-winning Oz creator Tom Fontana to explore the precarious status of individual liberties post-9/11 through two parallel stories - each containing identical dialogues - taking place on two continents half a world away.

 
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  More Words of Wisdom From Our Mercenaries



In case you don't know, Blackwater USA is one of the paid mercenary providers we are using to supplement our military. Here's what their President has to say about the prison abuse scandal:


MAY 17, 2004
http://www.blackwaterusa.com/
FEATURE LETTER THIS WEEK....
WHY CAN'T SHE TAKE IT LIKE A MAN?
Behind The Lines - Dr. Jack Wheeler
Friday, May 14, 2004

We know conclusively that the Abu Ghraib abuse scandal is as phony as a Bill Clinton sex denial because there are no calls for the resignation of the one individual most responsible for the abuses.


That would be the officer in charge of Abu Ghraib and all US military prisons in Iraq, the commander of the 800th Military Police Brigade, Army Brigadier General Janis Karpinski. And why have there been no calls for her resignation? Let's be honest. It is because she is a woman.

Thus the frightening lesson of the abuse scandal: Political correctness trumps national security even in wartime.

http://www.tothepointnews.com/article.php?id=283&i=
Sincerely,
Gary Jackson: garyj@blackwaterusa.com
President
Blackwater

 
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5.16.2004
  American Hero

Atrocities in Iraq: 'I killed innocent people for our government'
By Paul Rockwell

For nearly 12 years, Staff Sgt. Jimmy Massey was a hard-core, some say gung-ho, Marine. For three years he trained fellow Marines in one of the most grueling indoctrination rituals in military life - Marine boot camp.
The Iraq war changed Massey. The brutality, the sheer carnage of the U.S. invasion, touched his conscience and transformed him forever. He was honorably discharged with full severance last Dec. 31 and is now back in his hometown, Waynsville, N.C.

When I talked with Massey last week, he expressed his remorse at the civilian loss of life in incidents in which he himself was involved.

Q: You spent 12 years in the Marines. When were you sent to Iraq?

A: I went to Kuwait around Jan. 17. I was in Iraq from the get-go. And I was involved in the initial invasion.

Q: What does the public need to know about your experiences as a Marine?

A: The cause of the Iraqi revolt against the American occupation. What they need to know is we killed a lot of innocent people. I think at first the Iraqis had the understanding that casualties are a part of war. But over the course of time, the occupation hurt the Iraqis. And I didn't see any humanitarian support.

Q: What experiences turned you against the war and made you leave the Marines?

A: I was in charge of a platoon that consists of machine gunners and missile men. Our job was to go into certain areas of the towns and secure the roadways. There was this one particular incident - and there's many more - the one that really pushed me over the edge. It involved a car with Iraqi civilians. From all the intelligence reports we were getting, the cars were loaded down with suicide bombs or material. That's the rhetoric we received from intelligence. They came upon our checkpoint. We fired some warning shots. They didn't slow down. So we lit them up.

Q: Lit up? You mean you fired machine guns?

A: Right. Every car that we lit up we were expecting ammunition to go off. But we never heard any. Well, this particular vehicle we didn't destroy completely, and one gentleman looked up at me and said: "Why did you kill my brother? We didn't do anything wrong." That hit me like a ton of bricks. 
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Rip out the table
we need room to move
in a life unstable
you're so easily amused
anywhere you hang
yourself is home
throw in a tape, fix the tone

The windows are dirty let's hope it rains
add another newspaper
something to do with my change
I see we're fighting again
In some fucking land
throw in another tape man

Someone take the wheel
and I don't know where we're going
anybody say what you feel
everybody's sad, but nobody's showing

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