Let's see, there's some serious comedy afoot beyond the usual Democratic high jinks, concerns about Jay Leno's interviewing techniques, Dan Rather's neck size, and the mistaken identities afflicting the Black Caucus.
Jesse Jackson now is said to be pursuing British Petroleum for money and positions to support his growing hackerama, after a prolonged hiatus. Hillary Clinton has become an apostle of personal privacy following a series of calamitous visions. and Cynthia McKinney has drawn a walk on her highly publicized assault on the Capitol police officer and renewed her pledge to cease striking uniformed members of law enforcement.
Years ago, as a stand out bass on the Billy Graham Crusade, George Beverly Shea used to belt out an outstanding version of ‘This is my story, this my song.' and he really shook the windows and rafters, and later, when the crusade outgrew their interior venues, he rattled the speakers and the chairs.
and so the latest news circling these three dedicated liberal Democrats, like the proverbial buzzards over an overripe desert carcass, has served to rattle us, as we visualize their stories and listen to their songs.
Mr. Jesse Jackson, is a self-proclaimed "Reverend", though he failed to finish or attend seminary school, unlike Martin Luther King, Jr., his supposed mentor, who completed his religious education at Boston University.
Jesse, on the other hand, resembles Jim Morrison, a Door who was less adept at petitioning the Lord in prayer than singing.
Mr. Jackson is, however, extremely adept at petitioning, groveling and threatening to appear and hang around until his demands and those of his many peoples are met by the corporations whose fetlocks he sinks his finely honed incisors into. Beyond the payoffs to the girlfriends, arguments over personal holiness with Mr. al Sharpton, and digesting the payoffs from the corporations, the Lord seems to be lost somewhere in the background static.
But such is the business of Jesse Jackson Inc., where the hustle is the message, BP has blundered into view due their paltry offer of ten grand in the program to support the Rainbow deal, and Mr. Jackson has his eyes on a much larger prize, say, oh about a hundred and fifty large for openers.
Don't play me for a fool, Jesse. Just chase the dough without the platitudes. Your old song and dance production is wearing thin. Call your act for what it is — shilling for money and shaking the tree for apples, peaches and pumpkin pie.
Hillary, taking time out from her own huge personal data mining project with George Soros and Harold Ickes, forgetting her use of private eyes to dig dirt on her suspected critics, her husband's regular employment of the NSa to sift the ether for "economic" information in Echelon, and the Carnivore program employed for plowing through our personal e-mails, has decided that personal privacy is where it's now at. In fact, she's banking on it, with the same conviction of a sleepwalker that she employed in the commodities market.
Boldly taking a page from Senator Chuck Schumer's book, where he sits as another tireless defender of personal privacy, unless, of course, he feels the need to delve into somebody's background, Ms. Clinton promises not to repeat Mr. Schumer's overly ebullient staff's minor faux pas where they data mined Mr. Michael Steele's personal credit information and got caught. Nope, she'll dodge that bullet and escape the noose.
But again, it seems a bit over the top that a woman who has dedicated so much time, money and personnel, like Mr. Ickes in her White House days, to keep an eye on people and their histories, would suddenly spout off like a breaching whale on the values of personal privacy.
and that's the difference between Hillary and Chuck, being brought to heel. Or I guess, at the very least, using the 900 FBI files which once mistakenly ended up with a guy nobody could remember hiring, working out of an office nobody knew existed, with a name Hillary couldn't remember, to maybe assist you out of a jam or two.
I mean if you once had all of that information at your disposal and you're Hillary Clinton professing a concern about personal privacy, you'd never glance at a private file. I'm no fool.
Then there's poor Cynthia McKinney, who, in a fit of pique, struck a uniformed police officer, a common enough occurrence in america, though one which it'd be nice if our elected officials avoided. Even Patrick Kennedy, in whatever land he inhabited on the night of his jubilee, avoided a go at fisticuffs with the law.
Sadly, her non-indictment by a federal grand jury, is not a bit about her, but about the fear of the prosecutors, who could have simply charged her with a misdemeanor and let it go.
By charging her the way they did, it insured the current outcome as surely as picking Mr. O. J. Simpson's jury from South Central Los angeles, by no means his peers from upscale Brentwood, resulted in its laughably predictable conclusion, his sightings on the links, and his continued, though disturbingly seedy, notoriety.
Come on, kids, I'm no fool.
Stop pretending that you are something for the books. You share all the foibles the rest of us are afflicted with, except that you have the employ the power of fear, and enjoy big government and weak prosecutors on your side.
Pursuant to Title 17 U.S.C. 107, other copyrighted work is provided for educational purposes, research, critical comment, or debate without profit or payment. If you wish to use copyrighted material from this site for your own purposes beyond the 'fair use' exception, you must obtain permission from the copyright owner. Views are those of authors and not necessarily those of Canada Free Press. Content is Copyright 1997-2024 the individual authors. Site Copyright 1997-2024 Canada Free Press.Com Privacy Statement