Swimming with wild dolphins in Bimini

Flying out.

So long to Ft. Lauderdale

Less than 30 minute flight-Bimini.
North Island left, South Island right.

Bimini is part of the Bahama Islands located 53 miles due east

of Miami. Current population is about 1600. Bimini is composed

of the North and South Islands. North Bimini, where we stayed,

is 7 miles long and 700 feet wide. The northern quarter of the

island is dominated by the Bimini Bay Resort. Moving southward,

there are three settlements: Porgy Bay, Bailey Town and Alice Town

which is the largest. South Bimini is home to the landing strip and

shark research lab. Earliest inhabitants were the Lucayan people

who were taken off as slaves by the Spanish. Bimini was a favorite

rest/resupply base for pirates for many years and did not have a

permanent settlement until 1835 founded by freed slaves and white

Bahamians. Because of its proximity to the US, Bimini was frequently

used by bootleggers during Prohibition. Ernest Hemingway lived on

Bimini from 1935-37 and helped establish the island as a center for

big game fishing. His books “The Old Man and the Sea” and “Islands

in the Stream” are said to have been inspired by his experiences

while on Bimini.

Our puddle jumper from Ft. Lauderdale. Seats 10 including

the pilot.

Marinas in Alice Town on the sheltered side of North Island.

Seen from the dock, the main house for the Wild Quest

retreat. WQ has been in business since the 1990's offering

humans the chance to encounter dolphins in their natural

environment. The retreat offers healthy meals, yoga,med-

itation sessions and massage therapy. Kitchen and dining

(in bad weather)/serving rooms are on the ground floor,

yoga/meeting room first floor and guest rooms there

and on the top floor.

The dining table. Our room was in this building.

Bay side of rooms.

“Buddy”, Wild Quest's adopted stray, whose duties

ranged from greeting us at the dock at the end of the

day to devotedly ripping up plants

Curly-Tailed Lizard

(yep, name and description are the same).

Green coconuts.

Storms.

Generally, the catamaran was engine-powered

unless there was enough wind to go under sail.

Dolphins!

Getting into the water.

Swimming with dolphins.

Stills from C's vid camera.

Tropical Storm Andreas made landfall on the

panhandle of FL. The effects of the storm could

be felt in Bimini on the other side of the state.

Heading back one afternoon, we were sailing

right into the wind, 3-5 foot seas. Took us an

hour to go a mile. Not quite as rocky on the boat

seeing sky, ocean, sky, ocean but it was a long,

choppy journey.

“The Square”. Katty-corner from the entrance gate to

our compound. Gathering place for folk (generally men)

in Porgy Bay who often were enjoying adult beverages

purchased from a small store across the street. I found

the islanders uncommonly friendly and I was almost

always greeted by passerbys when I walked. I chatted

a couple of times with the guys (mainly older) hanging

out. Seemed like they were happy, mellow drinkers

as opposed to aggressive, angry ones.

A rare car-usual mode of transportation

was a golf cart.

Note the ornaments.

Bimini Bay Resort. This time of year it was a ghost town.

Evidently, the “season” is Thanksgiving to Easter. The

resort has sparked controversy-the gated community,

the new casino being built and a proposed deep water

harbor so cruise lines can anchor. Curiously, it is the

Europeans who either live or work on Bimini who voice

concern-spoiling paradise and the ecology. Islanders I

talked to saw the development in terms of employment

and economic growth.

Ocean side homes.

Across the street, bay side bungalows.

Attached to one of many marinas in Alice Town, Big John's

offers a bar overlooking the bay, dance floor and restaurant.

It was my father's death day so I went on walk-about instead

of going on the boat. I offered up a drink to The Old Marine-

one of his classic drinks-Cuba Libre. Typical of island drinks,

it came in a damn tall water-glass. $5.Thud!  

Conch shells. Conch fishing is common and conch meat
was frequent on restaurant menus.

Alice Town.

I saw many of these signs incorporating Nike's

Swoosh. I asked an a cook taking a break at 

Big John's about it. “Oh mon, this was something

from a couple of leaders ago for school children. 

It was posted in all the schools”. Hmm, I said-”looks

like it's for adults as well-a bit of social engineering”. 

She laughed-“Yep”.

Across from a liquor store. There are a lot of churches

on the island mainly on the Kings Highway or upper

road on higher ground. The three settlements and resort

are located on the lower main route or Queens Road.

Murals on wall as you enter Alice Town.

Walking up to Dolphin House.

Dolphin House. Since 1993, Ashley Saunders has

adorned outside and inside this hotel/personal

residence/museum/gift shop with recycled/salvaged

items. It's wonderful. Mr. Saunders is also Bimini's historian.

 Mr. Saunders (internet image)

Dolphin House is located on high ground. Going further up

the hill to the top and the Kings Highway, you have this

spectacular view of the beach and ocean.

Around the corner from Dolphin House is the

Methodist Church. First established in 1858

the current church dates from the 1920's as

earlier buildings were destroyed by hurricanes.

Katter on the front steps of the church. We saw few

cats on the island. Far more dogs and goats.

Only sunrise we saw because of the weather.

Final day, in front of the door of our room.

Mo' Music: Trippy Blast From The Past

 

!

One of my all-time favs-Vanilla Fudge's cover of the The Supremes "You Keep Me Hangin' On" which in my book, is arguably one of the best Supremes covers. Intense and tasty. While this  video from 1968 does not have the best sound or picture quality, the whole scene is a hoot. From the hopelessly square MC's lead-in to the dancers with the super-teased, lacquered hair and groovy boots to the cringe-worthy rocking-out writhing of the musicians. Check out the bass player-what the hell is he wearing? A cross between the 1930's evil Emperor Ming the Merciless and Dave Bowie's "man dress" from "The Man Who Saved The World". Far out man!

Mo' Movies Review: Django Unchained

This cross between Blazing Saddles, Spaghetti Westerns and Shaft, Django Unchained is set in Texas in 1858. Slave Django (Jamie Foxx) has been recently sold and is walking in chains under guard with other slaves to their new plantation. He is freed (as the result of extreme violence, surprised?) by a smart-talking German immigrant bounty hunter Dr. Schultz (Christoph Waltz) who needs him to ID some bad guys he is tracking. Turns out Django has natural talent with a gun so the two partner up to make money and to search for Django’s wife. The trail ends at a notorious plantation, Candyland, owned by Calvin Candie(Leo DiCaprio). They arrive under the ruse of buying a fighter as their neophyte entry into the Mandingo circuit(essentially cockfighting only with big black men who try to beat each other to death) while actually trying to buy Django’s wife. The sale does not go down as planned…

With Quent’s trademark penchant for referencing past films, seeing this movie would benefit from watching Django-a 1966 spaghetti western said to be the most violent movie made up to that date. Django Unchained would make more sense. Otherwise, it is simply a bloody cartoon (rivaling The Simpson’s Itchy and Scratchy and outdoing most Sam Peckinpah's movies). Evidently, Quent wants you to believe that everyone is using huge caliber bullets because all wounds blow out like Kennedy’s head. (Major quibble: Don Johnson uses a multi-shot rifle, most likely a Henry, which didn't go into production until 1860! C’mon Quent) White folk (except Dr Schultz) are universally brutal and cruel. I guess Quent is also making social commentary on how bad slavery actually was and he does have a point: this was not merely an administrative function-human beings were systematically and institutionally brutalized in ways exceeding most imaginations.

But in the end, it’s a rather unsatisfying film-with a few bits and pieces of Tarantino’s brilliance coming through. There are very funny parts although they seem to be channeling Blazing Saddles-the scene where townsfolk are gobsmacked to see “a nigger on a horse” (illegal for a slave) is quite similar to Cleavon Little's first ride into Rock Ridge in the earlier Brooks film. Also noteworthy was a long scene of Regulators (Ku Klux Klan precursors) bitching about their homemade hoods (the holes weren’t cut very well to fit). The dialogue of Dr Schultz as the well-spoken and educated ferriner is quite good and is a subtle send up of frontier Americans in the view of Europeans-still held today in some quarters. Don Johnson(with hilarious Col. Sanders goatee) and DiCaprio chew up the curtains as despicable, bigoted and cruel plantation owners. The film ends with Django riding off as cool as Shaft, a black angel ready to wreak a terrible vengeance on the evil white man. One almost wonders if in time he will start quoting Ezekiel 25:17.

I really cannot recommend this film unless one has to see everything Tarantino has made. It’s a rather dull plot and aside from Dr Schultz, the dialogue is sadly lackluster. And, it’s incredibly bloody. It says a lot about the audience that this is the highest grossing Tarantino film yet which is astonishing considering the popularity of Pulp Fiction. I haven’t looked at the numbers but I suspect the gross was pushed by the overseas markets, incidentally, where violent videos reign supreme. 

Happy Anniversary Sweetzi

 

!

Two Guys Talkin'

J-Hey

B-Oufff, these jumps are getting harder

J-Feeling your age today?

B-Today?

J-LOL yeah, I hear ya, man.(scratching an ear) I spent 2 days throwing mulch.

B-Ohhhh, a little to the left, ooooooooooooo

J-Feel better?

B-Mmmm yeah. Congrats BTW on the one year.

J-Thanks, man. That was a nice thing to post for us.

B-Our pleasure. We’re happy for you. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile. You and Mom both like music and none of us can draw anything worth a damn for a card.

J- Good selections. I’m quite surprised. Molls? Who knew she’d go for a classic.

B-We were surprised too. Evidently, Molls lives up to her reputation as a voluptuary. She IS the only one who has had romance. She said she used to listen outside windows and watch people.

J-I knew she was a voyeur-not necessarily lascivious…

B-Oh yeah man, lascivious. Mom has no idea.

J-Reaalllyyy? Molls? That naughty girl. Who told?

B-Oh, she talks to me sometimes. I think I remind her of her son. Other times, I get my ears boxed. Tomi has verified.

J-What a minute, The Crazy Calico talks to you?

B-Yeah, sometimes she calms her ass down long enough to talk.

J-So, what is up with her hitting you all the time?

B-Well, I didn’t say she WASN’T crazy. She displaces big time.

J-Gawd. So, How did she come up with her tune?

B-You remember-Moonrise Kingdom. She heard French being sung and she was just smitten. She really misses Paris and all things French. Besides, Francoise Hardy is so retro and that had an appeal to Miss Fashion. She fantasizes a lot.

J-But neither of you have had romance.

B-Nope, just Molls. And pair bonding, romance and marriage and all those human things are frankly a bit beyond us. Not part of what we do. But, we know it’s about good things for you so we can acknowledge that much.

J-Hmm, it’s kinda what makes the world go ‘round for humans-more than simply perpetuating the species.

B-Yeah, we get that. All the volumes of material devoted to it-art, music, books, film-sheesh, a bit of an obsession if you ask me. And all that porn. Good grief.

J-We have big imaginations, lol. Thanks for your selection-you’ve been listening in to what I have have been playing.

B-Oh, I like the Civil Wars-good stuff although I do share your fondness of Gillian Welch.

J-So, do you remember the reception-you're the only one who made an appearance. Our socialite.

B-Sure-quite a day. Lots of changes-sheesh and a crush of people. The girls just hung out downstairs. You know Tomi-Miss “I'm So Afraid”. Molls stayed down with her for moral support.

J-It was a grand day. Weather was perfect-stuff pretty much went off without a hitch. We had some great friends helping out.

B-You and Mom happy?

J-Yep.

B-You don’t fight like others in the neighborhood.

J-Well, that’s good to hear! Naw, we’re good. We have it good. We have work, a nice place to live and you Los Tres Amigos. (scratching an ear)

B-We’re happy too. How about some pate?

J-Sure. C’mon. Ouff.

Happy Anniversary From Your Three Cats!

Congrats Mom and Dad on your first wedding anniversary! We didn't know what to get you-we looked it up and traditionally, the gift for the first is paper. Well, lacking coins or a credit card and not really sure just what you would do with it-I thought (and the girls agreed) that we would each select some romantic songs. I hope you like them. Love, Bindiwan, Molls and Tomi

From Tomi-Francoise Hardy's "Le Temps de L'amour"

From Molls-Diana Krall's "Peel Me a Grape"

From Bindiwan-The Civil War's "20 Years"

Saturday Night Music

 

Gillian Welch and David Rawlings

Time (the revelator)

Mo' Movies Review: Beasts of the Southern Wild

A..... post-Katrina Uncle Remus Joseph Campbell hero’s journey Norse saga Terry Gilliam magical realism Eco-apocalyptic fable- ALL on a po’boy bun! You’ll need more than two hands to handle THIS whopper. Sure, it’s a tall tale but the really big whopper is the inscrutable swooning gushing forth from the main stream critics (Ebert, the Times A. O. Scott) who seemed to have succumbed to some unseen siren’s call and crashed themselves blissfully on the rocks of delirium. Read their reviews with wary mind and a syringe of insulin.

Like most, I read the glowing reviews and on the face of it, this is an interesting and seemingly original tale. Especially compared to the tripe churning from Hollywood’s loins these days. But drilling down past the sentimentality, the precocious young girl actress who seems to have bewitched all, a heart of darkness engulfs and the sweetness sours. There is something just wrong with this film.

Briefly:

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Hush Puppy who lived with her Daddy in a place called the Bathtub. It existed on the wrong side of a levee in the Louisiana Bayou where any major storm could come along and the ocean would reclaim it for its own. Folk were poor, living off whatever the sea would provide: food, money from what they could catch and sell, the flotsam and jetsam providing material for shelter. Different races lived side by side in harmony, solidarity and independence from the outside world-that which existed on the other side of the levee. Unlike those outsiders who celebrated but once a year, the Bathtub denizens partied often, with glee and gusto, drink and food aplenty. Hush Puppy was wise beyond her years, knowing that everything in the universe is connected. She was taught in school that an Eco-Apocalypse was coming and she imagined that the Auroch-a long-extinct gigantic hog- like creature, would thaw out and come to destroy the weak, like her. Her daddy was a rough man but he meant to teach his heir apparent to be self-reliant and tough for, alas, he was ill. A big storm came and nearly destroyed the Bathtub, first with water but later with salt-poisoning from the invading ocean. Men from the Bathtub lead by Daddy, dynamited a hole in the levee to let the ocean out of their land. The government discovered that there were people still out in the Bathtub and forced them to evacuate “for their own good.”

Ok. At this point, you’re thinking-oh, such an Eden. Such joyous humans. Such fierce independent beings. Bad, Bad government. And such a bright little girl. What an imagination on that little peeler!

But wait. Let’s have a reality check. Daddy is a violent man. A violent man. If he isn’t physically hitting Hush Puppy, he is yelling at her, demeaning her. In fact, he talks like he is disappointed she is not a boy. He constantly says “hey, man” to her, “you're gonna be the king one day” and refers to her in male terminology. Only when he demeans her-to scold her, he finally acknowledges her gender-”oh you are just a weak little girl”. In his mind, he is being tough to make her tough in that uneducated, trash logic. The denizens of the Bathtub are not the brightest. Drunk much of the time. Living in incredible squalor. Yet the film tries to romanticize this in the most egregious of White attitudes: the noble savage. A.O. Scott of the Times even tries to tag them with a Libertarian label because they ran out of the shelters in an imagined act of declining government help. Noooo. They don’t have a clue what Libertarian means. Their act was not political, it was the act of near feral beings who were running back to reclaim that scrap of land that they considered theirs.

Ebert and Scott, didn’t you get the title? BEASTS of the Southern Wilds refers to the humans as much as to the critters.  And it ain’t a compliment. C’mon now. What do these people do? What are their concerns? Hush Puppy gives the clue when she talks about critters: “they just be eatin' and shittin'”. I would add fucking and drinking. How do they solve problems? Daddy doesn’t call up the UN. No, his default is violence. His kid sasses him, he smacks her. The authorities mess up his land, he blows a hole in the dike. The hurricane comes to destroy his stuff, he shoots at it with a shotgun.

You want to go down the stereotype lane? OK, what the director/writers have done here is portray yet again the big, bad ass nigger. Angry, aggressive, animal-like in his demeanor and his desires. Women are only sexual objects-his wife seen through his eyes as hot hot hot. Hell, she sets shit on fire when she walks past.

More objectionable is the sexualization of Hush Puppy and her girl pals. Late in the film, she decides to look for her mama. They take off swimming and are picked up by a tug and are taken to a floating whorehouse. The women there are shown to be the stereotypical whores with the hearts of gold-cooing, lavishing the young girls with attention supposedly because they haven’t seen children, only men for sooo long. Yet, in the dancing scene, they hold the young girls like lovers not children. Very creepy.

And what of Hush Puppy? Abandoned by her mama, hurt and demeaned by her daddy and now he is dead. Does anyone actually think she is ok? Has she learned enough lessons to survive? In the real world, no. But the film tries to make her out as the queen apparent of the Bathtub, ready to rule.

The inclusion of the Aurochs-silly. Yeah it gives the cache of weirdness and mysticism to the film. They bow down to the big bad girl/queen of the Bathtub. Pretty obvious these guys have watched Terry Gilliam. And, it throws in another dash of pet Liberalism the film makers seem to exude-Al Gore's Global Warming.

Worse, sending Daddy off in his flaming truck/boat to join the relatives in Bathtub Valhalla, while the mourners recite Bathtub tribal liturgy made me cringe for the pretentiousness of it all. Oh please.

I’ll give the crew who made this film their due: they crafted a good looking film on a shoestring budget. On the extras reel you can see how they created the illusions and again, well done there. But frankly, what was it that made the critics swoon? Original? Compared to the recent Zombie/Vampirethons, the endless remakes and mining of Marvel Comics,well, yes it is. But it doesn’t stand up to much scrutiny which I feel the mainstream critics failed to do or chose not to. I can only recommend this for those who want to see what the hoopla was about.

Bin was disturbed by the Aurochs and decided to give the whole film a pass. He muttered something about them being vaguely familiar and disappeared for the afternoon to hang out in his safe place under the evergreens.

Feel like comparing films? Watch Terry Gilliam's Tideland. Yep, it has a creep factor and he caught a huge rash of pillorying from many critics for….sexualization of a young girl. Take a look at his fable telling and compare. Look at his visuals. Beasts pales in comparison. Warning, it’s a tough film with a tough subject matter. But afterward, wonder as I did how the director of Beasts got a pass and Gilliam did not. Why Beasts was gushed over, nominated for a boatload of Academy Awards and Gilliam had tomatoes thrown at him.

For a blistering review, strap yourself in and read bell hooks's thoughts on this film. Now, she has been and continues to be quite the uncompromising bomb thrower of the feminist movement's radical wing. Having said this, I found her take on this film evocative and I found several times that she expressed what I was feeling but unable to put my finger on. 

Mo' Movies Review: Ted

This first feature film by Family Guy creator Seth McFarlane offers little deviation from his usual schtick: 8^th grade level raunchy and crude gags, fart jokes, ridiculous people and situations, and a serious penchant for creating heretofore innocents into foul mouthed, selfish creatures who revel in drugs, booze and hookers. In Family Guy, it was baby Stewie-here, it is a teddy bear aptly named Ted.

The Fable: 6 year old freak kid with no friends wishes upon a falling star for a lifelong pal and viola! the universe grants his wish in the form of a talking and sentient teddy bear. Ted, whose accent channels Cheer's Cliff the mailman, becomes an overnight sensation when revealed to the world. But true to the 15 minute rule of celebrity, he fades into obscurity. Flash forward-the kid is 35 years old (Mark Wahlberg), works a loser job at a car rental place and basically spends most of his time getting high and drunk, watching kid stuff on TV with Ted. His ever suffering (but hot) girlfriend (Mila Kunis) reaches the end of her rope with a boyfriend whose best buddy in the whole wide world is a talking teddy bear.

Standard, predictable story line here: boy has girl, loses her multiple times, yet defying logic wins her back. Ahh, the power of love and pretty dumb people. McFarlane pretty much reruns his Family Guy stuff here and exhibits his ability to both have awfully poor taste jokes (a pile of crap left on the floor by a hooker) and sharply hilarious (how Boston girl’s orgasm sounds).

Yet, McFarlane keeps it marketable. As gross as he is, he doesn't turn off his target audience of 15-34 year old males. I mean, if he really wanted to push the envelope, he could have had the girlfriend trying to compete with a Ted who gave blowjobs. She'd no longer be needed if you follow the logic of the gag. What a situation! But, that would seriously freak out his ever homo-phobic demographic wouldn't it? Coward!

In the end, this is another installment of the man child franchise Hollywood has been churning out for the past 15 years. In true tradition of the industry, beat something to death while you can still make money at it. But if movies reflect culture, what does this genre say about how men are viewed in America? Your choices according to Hollywood:

-Loser, terminally immature fools who can't figure out the simplest relationship with women

-Giant walking assholes with money who treat women solely as sex objects

-Cripplingly self-absorbed men who cannot relate to another human being no less have a relationship with one

-Extremely violent and psychopathic men who abuse women in a multitude of ways

-Gay 

The Dead Woman's House

As I often do, I had breakfast this morning by the picture window overlooking the big birch out back and the bird feeder. With the endless rains this week, I haven’t had a chance to fill the feeder. Several birds flew up, inspected for a couple of seconds and flew off, disappointed I am sure. This reminded me of the dead woman’s house in East Lansing.

Several years ago, I owned a shipping company and part of the business was estate work. I had gotten a call from someone’s daughter and arrangements were made to come to her parent’s house, package up items and ship. She had dropped off the key and on the appointed morning, I arrived ahead of my crew.

The craftsman style house was a time capsule, the décor frozen at a certain period in history. The husband had been a professor and he and his wife were travelers, mainly to the Orient. Artifacts were abundant in the form of art, photographs, sculptures, rugs. Books concerning Asia and Near East filled the many built-in bookshelves. I could see that the daughter (and probably others) had gone through and mined their treasures: tagged piles were on the floor lined against the walls and on tables. In the basement was a quintessential 1960’s rec room, his domain: with its wood paneling, ping pong table, slide carousel projector, portable screen and rack of photographic slides, no doubt from their many travels. A side room with a door to the outside was hers: a potting room with various gardening projects still on the bench. Because of this, I think he had died first.

It looked like not much had changed inside for many years. Nothing seemed modern, the walls needed paint. Photographs that had hung on walls for years left pale shadows of their shape when taken down. On the kitchen table and counters was her china. Typical of that house design, there was a window over the kitchen sink. Her view for all those years was a side garden dominated by a large tree and a bird feeder. A cardinal was there, flitting back and forth from a nearby shrub. The feeder was empty and I am sure the cardinal was thinking “Why is this empty? Where is that woman?”

So this is how it will end, I thought during that day of packing. A house stuck in time filled with favorite and irreplaceable items collected over the years. Talismans that trigger memories. Why change? There’s comfort with familiar sameness. Why paint the walls? No energy to do so yourself anymore. Can’t afford to have it done. Don’t want to bother the kids. Besides, the uproar, the chaos. Oh, it’s all fine. Just vacuum around the edges. Remember where we got that statue? And then, the other half is gone and you are asking and answering those questions only in your mind. You simplify and do less but the things you enjoy and have done so for years. Digging a weed. Put in a few annuals and a tomato plant. Fill the feeder. At least the birds need you

Washing up after breakfast, gazing out the window over my kitchen sink, I wondered: what will the strangers who come to clear our house see in what we have left behind? Those wall colors are clearly out of date. Good grief, a CD cabinet. A wall of books. Was she a professor? Lots of stuff on the walls. Did he do the artwork, take the photographs? They loved cats and wildlife. No children evidently. There are gardens. Look, out back by that ancient birch with an empty bird feeder. A cardinal wondering where they are.

Uncle Jeff Hollers

He sees you when you're sleeping

He knows when you're awake

He knows if you've been bad or good

So be good for goodness sake!

Another Day, Another Threat

It’s not easy being a young dictator following in your family’s footsteps. You try to keep up with their traditions and threaten the world on a regular basis but it’s sooo hard to come up new ideas. You want respect! But how can you have it if you trot out some retreads of your father’s? How lame.

Well, the solution is the Kim Jong Un's Threat-A-Day calendar! For just $19.99, you don’t have to think at all! Our well-beaten staff has worked very hard to come up with creative, controversial and particularly bellicose threats for you to have at your finger tips! Just think, you can get up in the morning and with your morning tea, flip over the sheet on the calendar and viola! A new threat that surely will piss off the Americans and frighten the bejesus out of the Japanese and those traitorous dogs to the south. Fabulous! Call up the Ministry of Information with your threat, sign a few execution orders and you can settle in to a leisurely morning of masturbating to internet porn.

Our writers have so cleverly worded the threats, that a mere change of a couple of words and nations, the user can adapt the Threat-A-Day calendar to most any circumstance, anywhere in the world. We have conveniently included an complementary editing pen with the calendar-a $1.03 value!

And, if you call us in the next 10 minutes, we’ll knock 10% off the price. Simply provide an article from Amnesty International or Human Rights Watch naming you as a tyrant, dictator, junta strongman, general threat to regional security or any other acceptable euphemism for a bad guy and the discount is yours! Operators are standing by 24/7. All major credit cards are accepted. Sorry, livestock and daughters are not. If your money is tied up in an off-shore account, please ask for Supervisor 371 when you call.

What are others saying about Kim Jong Un's Threat-A-Day Calendar?

Beats throwing shoes at the infidels -Al Jazeera

Voted Best New Tool to Rattle The West's Cage-Taliban Times

It's the best!-Bashar al-Assad

Mo' Music-12 Years and Counting

We have been in Afghanistan for 12 years making this conflict our nation's longest. Quick! Name a song about the war. Anyone? Buehler? Yeah, Nada. Nothing on the airwaves.  Not surprising considering how little debate no less discussion there has been about this and the truly bogus Iraq invasion in the public forum. Not like 'Nam is it? Welp-here's a couple of tunes by not-so-obscure artists. Lyrics are provided.

From 2004, John Fogerty

"Deja Vu all over again"

Did you hear 'em talkin' 'bout it on the radio

Did you try to read the writing on the wall

Did that voice inside you say I've heard it all before

It's like Deja Vu all over again

Day by day I hear the voices rising

Started with a whisper like it did before

Day by day we count the dead and dying

Ship the bodies back home while the networks all keep score

Did you hear 'em talkin' 'bout it on the radio

Could you're eyes belive the writing on the wall

Did that voice inside you say I've heard it all before

It's like Deja Vu all over again

One by one I see the old ghosts rising

Stumblin' 'cross Big Muddy

Where the light gets dim

Day after day another Mamma's crying

She's lost her precious Child

To a war that has no end

Did you hear 'em talkin' 'bout it on the radio

Did you stop to read the writing at the wall

Did that voice inside you say

I've seen this all before

It's like Deja Vu all over again

It's like Deja Vu all over again

From 2004-Tom Waits

"Day After Tomorrow"

I got your letter today
And I miss you all so much, here
I can't wait to see you all
And I'm counting the days, dear
I still believe that there's gold
At the end of the world
And I'll come home
To Illinois
On the day after tomorrow

It is so hard
And it's cold here
And I'm tired of taking orders
And I miss old Rockford town
Up by the Wisconsin border
But I miss you won't believe
Shoveling snow and raking leaves
And my plane will touch tomorrow
On the day after tomorrow

I close my eyes
Every night
And I dream that I can hold you
They fill us full of lies
Everyone buys
About what it means to be a soldier
I still don't know how I'm supposed to feel
About all the blood that's been spilled
Look out on the street
Get me back home
On the day after tomorrow

You can't deny
The other side
Don't want to die
Any more than we do
What I'm trying to say,
Is don't they pray
To the same God that we do?
Tell me, how does God choose?
Whose prayers does he refuse?
Who turns the wheel?
And who throws the dice
On the day after tomorrow?

Mmmmmmm...
I'm not fighting
For justice
I am not fighting
For freedom
I am fighting
For my life
And another day
In the world here
I just do what I've been told
You're just the gravel on the road
And the one's that are lucky
One's come home
On the day after tomorrow

And the summer
It too will fade
And with it comes the winter's frost, dear
And I know we too are made
Of all the things that we have lost here
I'll be twenty-one today
I've been saving all my pay
And my plane will touch down
On the day after tomorrow
And my plane it will touch down
On the day after tomorrow