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Categorically Speaking

Thu, 11/15/2018 - 10:24am

Categorically Speaking, a quick and simple fact for the fact minded among us: Human brains work on the principle of association. The obvious benefits of this are that we obtain a linear process of thought, and that rapid decision making is made possible. The down sides include making it possible to fool us easily by association of “bad things” with “good things” by making them seem like the good things they are not. It’s associative thinking that makes magic tricks possible.

The magician uses very nimble hands and distraction to join two unassociated things, say, a whole girl and a girl sawed into two parts, and joins them into a single, impossible thing. The key word to remember here is tricks. If you are mystified, you do not understand the trick.

Magic tricks are, as you know, tricks. Briefly, the process is facilitated by our bodies. Stimulus, or data receptor neurons send signals to neural clusters designed to receive and send sensory data along neural pathways toward the brain. In the process the data must jump across intersections to be received and passed along by other neural clusters. Along the way, the data is refined and directed according to a process of receptor training which has taken place over a long period of time. Thus, when our eyes perceive a mason jar our brain settles on a mason jar as the perceived object, rather than a jug. It must be noted however, that in the absence of a needed jug, the optical stimulus of the jar will inevitably, in some people, catch the interest of nearby receptor neurons along the pathways from the retina to the brain, and presto! Moonshine in mason jars. If necessity is the mother of invention, then the process of associative, categorical thinking is it’s father.

Penn and Teller have a quarter trick. In it, Teller has a metal cup. He drops a quarter in it, and you hear it hit. Then, he begins to take quarters from thin air, and likewise, drops them thin to the cup. You hear it. Even taking glasses from a member of the audience, and dropping quarters from them into the cup, and again, you hear it. What’s more, you see it. This is categorically impossible, but you see it because you expect to see it, and your brain fills in the missing dots.

It must be said that the process of receiving, storing, and retrieving information categorically has served us well throughout our development. This useful attribute has allowed us to generally avoid widespread and regular death by poisoning, as we can group poisonous plants and animals with ease. One look at the triangular head of a viper and we know to be cautious. So why the devil did we popularize the expression ‘you can’t judge a book by it’s cover’? Well, put your feet up and relax, ‘cause I’m fixin’ to tole you.

Categorically, I have always been a democrat. This means that I have been prejudiced against conservative causes simply because the associative process links those causes with the exercise of republican power. Similarly, if proposals are of republican origin, then they must be bad. Ever since President Kennedy was assassinated, presumably by conservative republicans (or so said my associative process of deduction), I have sacrificed much in the name of the democratic cause. It was a mistake.

It was a mistake, because that wonderful process of categorization is poised to destroy western civilization in its entirety. As I write these words the enemies of the west are conducting blitzkrieg invasions of Europe, America, and even such unlikely places as South Korea. The target of these forces, and make no mistake, these are forces, is everything that is not Islamic. They are moving into our countries, ignoring our laws, and stealing our children’s futures. Hell, in many cases they are stealing our children.

Is this proof that you, as a conservative republican were right, while I was wrong? If you think that, ask yourself the ultimate question. Who is allowing this to happen? What name or face can we put on this disaster? Hillary? Certainly! George Bush? Certainly! Dick Cheney, Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, Joe Biden, Mitch McConnell, Nancy Pelosi, Paul Ryan, Ted Cruz? Most certainly! It is obviously the intent of the established political power structure, democrat and republican, to allow an overwhelming of our culture by invaders from Africa, the Middle East, and South America. Who else could it possibly be?

Many see this as racist rhetoric and label it nationalism. Well, Duh! I am an American. This is one category I refuse to shed. I will fight the loss of my national identity in the streets, in my very home if I must, but I would rather die than see the invaders tear down the temples of my people, or scatter the ashes of my father. Yeah, i know, i just quoted Cicoero, but if Winston Churchill can do it so can I. If you are not a nationalist, then you are on the menu!

I would ask you this, would it not be better to look beyond our political identities toward the center, our national identities to determine beside whom we will strive? I cannot say more than this. Be a populist in all things. Rise up against the establishment. Vote for the other side if that is what it takes to unseat them. Tell your mind how to work, and don’t see the quarters!

The Butcher Shop

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Mitch McConnell: How to Win Without Doing Anything

Wed, 11/14/2018 - 4:02pm

The best summary of the 2018 mid–term elections came from National Review, that hotbed of Never Trumpism. David French wrote, “Republicans solidified their theoretical advantages in the [Senate].”

“Theoretical” being the operative word. With Curator of the Senate Mitch McConnell in charge any conservative changes in the status quo were always only “theoretical.” That’s why the big winner of this election was McConnell.

As this is written the left has picked up 29 House seats and lost 3 seats in the Senate. That’s not a “blue wave”. It’s more like the splash on your shoes after a lobbyist’s SUV drives by during a DC rain storm, while you wait for a bus.

In Clinton’s first mid–term he lost 54 House seats and 8 Senate seats and that was before he went all Harvey Weinstein on the help.

Nobel Prize–winning Obama, beloved by all, lost 63 House seats and 6 Senate seats in 2010. As Ed Rogers pointed out, the left’s victory didn’t even exploit the alleged national loathing for Trump. “Democrats have underperformed in comparison with the historical markers and general expectations of a midterm cycle. The president’s party loses 37 seats in the House on average in midterm elections when his approval is below 50 percent — but Democrats aren’t projected to pick up nearly that many seats.”

Some of these numbers could change by the time you read this because Democrats have dispatched vote–finding teams for the undecided races. These grave robbers and dumpster divers somehow manage to unearth previously hidden leftist votes in much the same way the French find truffles.

Mitch McConnell, Architect of Inertia, wins because even the most rabid members of the base won’t expect him to pass conservative legislation when the House is held by Antifa.

Had Republicans held the House, the additional three new GOP senators would have been an unmitigated disaster for McConnell. The pressure to finally pass legislation conservatives have been promised during the campaign, but somehow gets lost on the trip back to DC, would have been overwhelming.

A relieved McConnell will spend the next two years cheerfully functioning as the Human Resources office for the White House judicial nomination team. After each confirmation, Mitch will claim the approved judge is a victory for Senate conservatives.

The truth is every judge is a victory for the man McConnell secretly despises: Donald Trump. His victory in 2016 upset all the curator’s careful plans. With Hillary in the White House Mitch could be his natural, passive–aggressive self. Trump ended the ‘if we only controlled the White House’ excuse Senate country club conservatives used to justify their legislative coma.

Even after Trump made the McConnell family a two–income household again — his wife is Sec. of Transportation — Mitch showed his gratitude by refusing to support Trump’s budget, Trump’s wall and Trump’s effort to shrink the federal government. McConnell is responsible for 90 percent of the failure to pass Trump’s legislative agenda.

Now McConnell is mumbling about working with Democrats. This means he’s ready to reopen the Pork Palace under the guise of “bipartisanship”, because the only activity the two tribes in Incumbentstan can agree upon is spending money.

McConnell will enjoy the extra three–vote pad on judicial confirmation votes even though he did nothing to produce the unprecedented senate victories.

He avoided the immigration issue. He didn’t force Democrats to cast votes that would not play well at home. McConnell did almost nothing aside from his HR duties.

The president, on the other hand was a campaigning machine. As Laura Hollis pointed out, “[Trump] was instrumental in the GOP victories in Florida, Indiana, Texas, Ohio, Tennessee, Missouri and North Dakota.”

Trump won running his issues and not those of the housebroken conservatives hiding in the Swamp. Frank Cannon and Paul Dupont summed it up nicely, “The GOP [McConnell and the ‘leadership’] cannot afford to settle for a “truce” strategy on social issues, surrendering to Democrats the power to define the cultural narrative. This repeatedly has proven to be electoral suicide. If Republicans are to capitalize on the Democrats’ growing weakness, they must campaign unapologetically as conservatives, as President Trump did in 2016, or else resign themselves to eventual defeat.”

Ed Rogers has sage advice for the curator, “Voters had a chance to repudiate Trump and they did not. Much of the commentariat has said this year’s elections are about who we are as a country and what America is all about. Well, a lot of America seems to be about supporting Trump.”

If McConnell — who has a lower approval rating in Kentucky than Trump — can’t grasp that fact he needs to get out of the way.

The post Mitch McConnell: How to Win Without Doing Anything appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

Pray For California

Wed, 11/14/2018 - 7:36am

Pray for California. Although I don’t like California’s politics, I love the state, and it’s people. I spent considerable time there in 2011-2012. I’ve been back several times since then to visit family. Now don’t get me wrong. California is more liberal than Willie Nelson, but I’ve never felt more love anywhere else. During my son’s retirement party a man approached me and told me he read everything I write. I slept on my son’s boat in the harbor, and ate the absolute best meal I’ve ever had. Of course, Master Chief got into a dance contest with a four year old little girl, and threw his back out, but that’s “California!”

People judge the state by the outrageous politics emanating from the region running from about San Francisco down to San Diego, and extending about twenty-five miles inland. But there’s another California called the Inland Empire that’s just Texas with better weather. A land filled with strawberries and grapes, and lots of people who’ll pull over and help you change a tire. They are conservative Americans, but the over population along the coast overrides their vote.

A good example was proposition 8, allowing gay marriage. Now on this one the people of California hung together. Voices from the land of Disneyland, and the Beach Boys said, “Hell NO,” but a judge overruled their voice, overturned the vote, resigned, and married his boyfriend. To the rest of the nation this marked California as the land of fruits and nuts.

California will burn at the drop of a hat. I hung out in the desert regions of Murrieta, and Occatillo Wells so I was interested in just how they get rocks and sand to burn. Before I returned to Texas, California showed me how! They have hurricanes without no clouds called Santa Anna winds that will bent a palm tree over. One spark, one match, one joint, and kaBOOM! No more neighborhood.

Keeping the state burn free is a full time job. Inmates clear wooded areas of dead limbs, state workers do so too. Neighborhoods are always on the watch for flame. I saw one crop up in a field behind my son’s house, and even before the fire department arrived the people had already soaked their yards, and were encroaching on the fire. My daughter in law told me during one such fire while she was fleeing, she looked in her rear view mirror and saw a wall of flame. It can happen that quick!

The Trump administration has decided to punish California for its whacky view on immigration. Now, as a Texan, I don’t agree with California on that, but as first responders search for teeth in the ashes I wonder just how far we need to pursue this difference of opinion when it endangers the lives of real Americans. I keep remembering the smiling faces of all those beautiful, liberal people who found me an interesting oddity, and shared their wine with me. How many of those people lie in the ashes of the Campfire?

Pulling much needed funds from the state, needed for fire protection will not keep Pablo off the fence. That is two separate issues. What do we pull next? Vaccinations for kids? Public transportation? Food for the homeless. We will not solve the immigration problem by burning down California.

It is interesting to note that the fires seem to follow the high speed rail system. This is perfectly understandable. In a place where little screens are required in the exhausts of dirt bikes, the continual sparks generated from steel wheels on railroad tracks can very quickly generate disaster. America needs to come to the aid of our California neighbors with all dispatch, and forget about the politics for a minute. We can throw all them Meskins out later. Right now we need to pitch in, and give Mickey Mouse a glass of water.

The Butcher Shop

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Donald Trump May Be The Most Honest President In History

Tue, 11/13/2018 - 7:32am

President Trump may be the most honest president in history. Yeah, yeah, yeah, he stretches the truth during press conferences, but he doesn’t stretch campaign promises. From tariffs to trade agreements, to revitalizing inner cities, to restricting travel from nations sworn to cause harm to America, Donald Trump has fulfilled almost all of the things he said he was going to do during his campaign.

We don’t have a wall, but we have a division of troops on the border. We did stay in Afghanistan, but with a minimal presence. And he DIDN’T say if we liked our doctor, we could keep our Doctor! That’s a lie, folks. With the so-called “blue wave” the democrats would have us believe that Trump’s administration has been a total failure. Unfortunately they’re living in Trump America with the lowest unemployment rate in years!

And now Hillary looms on the horizon. I really didn’t think the dems would bet on that old grey nag for a third time, but they do want open borders so go figure. There are some of them that breathe the clear air of sanity, such as the ones telling Pelosi to forget about being the speaker of the house, but the spin coming out of the Hillary camp is powerful. Not as powerful as the ballot box, which spoke loud and clear back in 2016.

As divided as the country may seem the people’s pocketbooks are feeling a lot better. With Wall Street setting record levels the liberals are quick to point to a sell off. That’s what Wall Street does! Buy and sell. It’s called “trading.” You buy for a quarter and sell for a dollar. Then, you do it again. That’s what drives the economy. Duh!

And Donald Trump does drive the economy. As the Mueller investigation rumbles on oil is flowing, people are working, and no terrorists are checking in at JFK, New York! Yet some independent poll cited Obama being the best president in our lifetime. Give me a break! Obama was a task master at political double talk. He was the darling of the banksters, and introduced a level of racial tension not seen since George Wallace.

But yes, this New York real estate broker makes outlandish claims. All real estate brokers do that. They tell clients that they’ll handle everything, the house will sell in thirty days or they’ll buy it themselves, and a house they have listed is the most perfect property in town. That’s why we have real estate commissions. To protect the public. The fact remains that Trump gets things done! If he says he’s going to open a pipeline you can take that to the pump, and when he laughs at Hillary making a third run you can take her to the dump!


The Butcher Shop

The post Donald Trump May Be The Most Honest President In History appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

The New Salem Witchcraft Trials

Mon, 11/12/2018 - 9:06am


Just when you’d think the Salem witchcraft trials were buried deeply in history the Democrats take control of the House of Representatives. Are they going to help preserve Social Security? Maybe finally come up with something better than Obama Don’t Care? Or perhaps lend a helping hand to that third world country, California, during the worse fires in history? Heck no! They’re a gonna convene a full blown investigation looking for Russian dressing in the White House kitchen!

You wanted it, you got it. Forget the economy being so good there are more jobs than people. Rest assured that President Trump has arranged a welcoming committee for our “invitees” rushing for the southern border. Remember that the only button Kim in North Korea is pushing these days is on his TV remote. None of that matters. What matters to Democrats is that Donald J. Trump kicked the hell out of them in 2016. Priority one!

So we won’t see any forward motion. We’ll see no compromise. We won’t see one inch of new asphalt on an interstate road. What we’re gonna see is a pack of slavering, snapping dogs nipping at the president’s heels as he desperately tries to make America great again. They can’t even stand that phrase, and it’s become dangerous to even own a MAGA hat.

So what do we do? We live with it. As they drive us into another Great Recession, we just baton down the hatches and pray to God we don’t lost the house and car before 2020. Everyone was worried about Nancy Pelosi. She’s the sanest one in the crowd. It’s all the newly elected crazy little bastards we have to watch out for. Thank God Beto lost!

Yesterday they announced that gun control was at the top of the list. Have you ever noticed that Democrats excel at taking things away from people. Guns, freedom of speech, red hats, BABIES, both born and unborn. Your money too. They’re real good at that. Ask Hillary.

So, we will endure probably two more years of Mueller picking and probing every whorehouse in Washington looking for a used condom with Russian DNA in it, at our expense I might add. Every time the First Lady wears a wind breaker the “View” will make a big deal about it, and Alec Baldwin’s lame impersonation of the president when he’s not beating the hell out of someone for taking his parking spot. The Salem trials ended in one day. These trials will end on a November day in 2020!

The Butcher Shop

The post The New Salem Witchcraft Trials appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.


Sat, 11/10/2018 - 8:59pm

Christ came to fulfill the Old Covenant.  He paid the price for Adam’s sin and made a way back into fellowship with God.  Sin was the problem and Jesus is the answer.

When he was offered up by the High Priest as a sinless sacrifice He fulfilled all that had ever been required in the Old Covenant.

When He breathed His last on the cross and cried out, “It is finished,” the curtain in the temple was ripped in half.  God left the Holy of Holies on earth signifying the end of the Old Covenant.   When Christ rose from the dead and ascended into heaven He poured out his blood on the eternal alter of God in the heavenly temple of God.  All the sacrifices of the Old Testament had been but a foreshadowing of this event.

When we confess Jesus as Lord and believe in our heart that God raised Him from the dead as it says in Romans 10:9-10 we shall be saved.  It doesn’t say we might be saved.  It doesn’t say we will be saved by and by.  It says we shall be saved.  The moment we do that we’re born again, recreated, and translated from the old world of sin caused separation from God and death to the new world of fellowship with God and life.

Once we’re saved from the curse of sin we become the righteousness of God.  This means we can stand in the presence of God without any guilt, shame, or fear for we’ve become His children.  And as His children we have the right and the ability to come boldly into our Daddy’s throne room any time we want.

Think of it this way, if you or I walked up to the gate of Buckingham Palace and told the guard, “Let me in I want to see the queen” we wouldn’t even get a smile from one of those guys.  But if Prince Phillip walked up and said the same thing they would immediately usher him into the royal presence.

It’s the same with us and the heavenly Holy of Holies.  God is our Father.  We can enter His presence any time we want.  There’s no need to beg or plead.  It’s our right as His child because we are one with Christ.  He’s the head and we’re the body.  We’re the very living stones built up into His eternal temple.  We’re individually the tabernacles of His Holy Spirit who dwells in us.

Don’t accept less.  Be all that God re-created you to be.  We’re a new creation the old has passed away and behold all has become new.  We dwell this moment in God’s New Jerusalem and collectively we are His Holy Temple.  God the Father is on His throne.  Christ the Lamb that was slain for the sins of the world and yet lives is seated to His right hand.  The Holy Spirit indwells the temple built of living stones.

There is nothing left to be done.  It is finished.  There is nothing we can add.  We have been given the authority to act in the Name of Christ.  We shouldn’t sit back waiting to get good enough.  We shouldn’t expect some hireling to do what God has called us to do.  We’ve been called to take the light of Christ into a world of darkness.

He never told us to build a lamp.  He never told us to pay a lighthouse tender.  He told us to take the light of His love to those sold under bondage to the king of this world.  And we must always remember greater is He who is in us than he who is in the world.

Jesus told us that if we have faith, even if it’s as small as the smallest seed, and we tell the mountain to jump it’ll jump.  So let’s quit waiting for some collective bulldozer to move the mountains and start living as what we are: children of the Most High God.

In the desert God told Moses to speak to the rock.  He has told us to speak to the mountains.    So now, all together on the count of three let’s say to the mountains in our life, “Jump!”

One, two, three.

Dr. Owens teaches History, Political Science, and Religion.  He is the Historian of the Future @  © 2018 Contact Dr. Owens [email protected]   Follow Dr. Robert Owens on Facebook or Twitter @ Drrobertowens or visit Dr. Owens Amazon Page / Edited by Dr. Rosalie Owens


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#MeToo…A Misguided Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Sat, 11/10/2018 - 8:55pm

While some will not like what I am about to say others surely will…but say it I must and let the consequences fall where they may.

So let’s start by asking what exactly is a victim? As per the Merriam-Webster dictionary a victim is one that is “injured, destroyed, or sacrificed under any of various conditions” or “one that is subjected to oppression, hardship, or mistreatment.” And a survivor is one who “continues to function or prosper” despite having been a victim. But when one considers themselves a victim of unproven and made up allegations, I believe, one is neither a victim nor a survivor, but is a liar for one cannot be a victim of something that never happened.

And what is a liar but an individual who makes “untrue statements with intent to deceive” or one who takes actions in order “to create a false or misleading impression”…all of which Dr. Christine Blasey Ford willingly did when she accused now Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh of sexually assaulting her back in their high school days.

Also, remember that if Dr. Ford truly wanted her accusation to remain anonymous as she, the media, and her Senate protectors all claim, she would not have sent the now infamous letter to her congresswoman or to the newspapers…at least not without including definitive proof that the sexual assault by a then teenage Brett Kavanaugh actually took place. Dr. Ford took the risk of her allegation being proven false, which thankfully it was, for the learned doctor forgot that allegations are but words without substance and that truth in the end will usually prevail.

And in Dr. Ford’s wanting to hide behind anonymity means she either wanted to take the cowards way out…as in someone unwilling to stand by their accusation hoping that said accusation itself would do the intended damage…or she was using the calling card of someone with both a plan and an agenda in mind. And personally I believe that in Dr. Ford’s case it was a combination of the two, and I wouldn’t doubt if Dr. Ford leaked the letter herself to set in motion her cleverly orchestrated plan of revenge that she felt was languishing way too long on Sen. Dianne Feinstein’s desk.

Simply, Christine Blasey Ford lied about now Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh trying to rape her 36 long years ago… after all no one could corroborate her story not even those she claimed were in the house when the assault supposedly occurred or those she claimed she told her story to. And contrary to what some think the only thing this woman is a victim of is getting caught in her own lies now coupled with the fact that she has allowed herself to be used by her fellow Democrats as the “face” of those who lie…but who demand you believe their lie…about sexual assaults that never happened.

In fact, what Christine Blasey Ford and her lie about Brett Kavanaugh did was make a mockery of those women who are true victims of rape or of sexual assault. And by the way, teenage boys trying to “cop a feel” in an effort to get to “first” or “second base” is not sexual assault nor is it rape…bad behavior perhaps but really just teenage boys being teenage boys…most especially when no intercourse or rape took place.

And I know from which I speak for this happened to me…with no rape or intercourse taking place (nor did it in Dr. Ford’s case)…no lasting mental harm was done to me…and the incident became as it should be…just one small memory from my early teenage years of a teenage boy being a teenage boy and nothing more. And unlike Dr. Ford, I remember the details…the who, what, where, why, when, and how…but it affected my life in no way at all which means no #MeToo movement for me. Am I stronger than most women…perhaps…but I knew even back then as much as I know now the difference between a boy “copping a feel” and something so much more serious…something called rape.

And really, many of the women now claiming that they were sexually assaulted or raped so many years ago were actually willing participants who probably had the reputation for being “loose” or being “fast” back in their high school days…girls who went to parties and who drank as much as the boys with “copping a feel” or worse being inevitable when one puts oneself in such a precarious position. But now they figure why not add their name to a movement doing, I believe, more harm than good, even though they’re doing it just for their 15 minutes of fame or possibly for some sort of misguided and twisted revenge against the boy who dumped them after “copping their feel” and maybe even more.

Now fast forward those very high school girls by a decade or two as they became “party girls” and bar hoppers in their twenties and thirties…young women whose actions and consequences only mattered to them when it became something they could use to their advantage or maybe they see it as a way to do self-penance of sorts for past actions taken now regretted.

And so enters the a fore mentioned #MeToo movement, the Hollywood propelled women’s movement initiated by supposedly victimized Hollywood actresses in the immediate aftermath of the Harvey Weinstein scandal… the sex scandal that dominated the media for so many weeks. Drugging and raping or sexually assaulting a woman is indeed a serious crime and Harvey Weinstein should see serious jail time for each case of such that is proven…with proven being the operative word. But dressing like a whore and then going to his hotel room knowing well that to get a coveted movie role means having to “put out” and then willingly…no matter their now claims to the contrary…doing so…is not rape…it’s prostituting oneself in exchange for fame and fortune and nothing else.

Serious actions do have serious consequences after all, as does making what one knows at the time is a bad decision. But only bringing something forth years or decades after said self-perceived wrong occurred, is a wrong that is best kept to oneself for if something was grievous enough to cause mental anguish and harm in the immediate hours and days after said incident occurred, it was serious enough to have been told to someone or reported to the police in a timely matter.

And yet so many Hollywood supposed rape and sexual assault incidents both by Harvey Weinstrein and by others were never reported, they lay in waiting until politically needed. And so the Hollywood #MeToo movement was born…a movement started by left-wing Hollywood elite sorts whose public birth was perfectly timed as payback for Hillary’s losing the election. And once the movement was born it drew to it not only the fakers and liars, but sadly true victims of rape and sexual assault whose voices got drowned out when #MeToo entered the political arena where it became just a tool to try and take now President Donald Trump down.

And with thousands of women now identifying themselves as victims of rape, sexual assault, and the newest faux-pas known as workplace sexual harassment…a man dare not say a woman looks nice or her dress is pretty while at work…yet few of the woman joining the movement have had the courage to disclose the details or the name of the person responsible for doing them harm…just more accusations with no proof whatsoever to back-up their jumping on the #MeToo bandwagon.

And the nonsense now being spewed by Democrat politicians who are clamoring for votes and by so-called feminists who use in-your-face screaming as their method de-jour for shaming and trying to silence any and everyone who disagrees with their nonsense that any woman claiming to be a survivor must be believed…as in proof be damned…goes against one of our county’s most basic of legal principals…innocent until proven guilty. And without the presumption of innocence our beloved America is truly in trouble.

And the left’s claim that the reason why many victims and survivors of rape and sexual assault hesitate reporting said incidents to the police is that they are either too embarrassed to do so, that there’s too much exposure involved, that there may not have been enough proof that something happened, or that it could hurt the people they now love. But the most ludicrous reason I’ve heard to date for not coming forward in a timely manner is that some supposed victims simply feel it’s not worth the trouble to do so.

And to the true victims of rape and sexual assault who do not file a report with the police in a timely manner, and to those women who waited years or even decades to come forward…you must shoulder some of the blame as well. Obviously you are not to blame for being a victim of rape, but you are guilty of willingly allowing your fear via your silence to enable your rapist or assaulter to possibly assault or rape again.

Silence is not always golden especially in true cases of rape or sexual assault.

So while the #MeToo movement continues to grow in number via demonstrations, protests, and hashtags that have gone viral… the truth is that this movement is truly misguided as it’s being fueled on mostly by women who either were too cowardly or too scared to speak out or who just out-and-lied about being victims of rape. And because of this victims of another kind are now slowly emerging…victims known as our fathers, grandfathers, brothers, nephews and sons…all now being pre-determined by militant feminists to be sexual predators or deviants…males full of “toxic masculinity” they say…never to be believed simply because they are male…foolish female misplaced solidarity to the nth degree based not upon truth but solely based upon which genitalia one has.

Sad isn’t it. And with these same militant feminist sorts now trying to shame men into accepting guilt for things that never happened shows just how foolhardy the #MeToo movement really is.

And yet within the fabric of American society their are those who work hard to promote gender equality between the two…yes the two…sexes…most especially in the workplace. But know we cannot ever allow ones gender to be the sole factor in deciding who is guilty and who is not guilty of the crimes that are rape and sexual assault. And those men being accused of such must be deemed innocent until legally proven guilty for the right to “due process” must be protected at all costs. And not to do so will surely hurt collective womanhood in the long run for “justice must never be served through unjust means”…with the court of public opinion only helping to drive forward the so-called war between men and women…a war of the media’s doing.

And women who see their joining an internet movement as a badge of courage simply because they posting the words “Me Too” on certain social media sites are fooling themselves for women…like Christine Blasey Ford…who falsely claim rape, sexual assault, or sexual harassment are doing a great disservice to the above stated true victims of rape and sexual assault. Considering themselves survivors of what amounts to trivial nonsense most of we women have gone through at sometime in our lives…these women actually relish in crying wolf thus allowing the real wolves to dress in sheep’s clothing to rape and assault others again and again.

Priorities and provable truths must become paramount if the #MeToo movement is ever to gain true and lasting credibility, and until it does so this movement is really doing more harm than good.

Now let the attacks on me begin…I’m a strong woman…I can take it.

Copyright @ 2018 Diane Sori / The Patriot Factor / All Rights Reserved.


For more political commentary please visit my RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS partner Craig Andresen’s blog The National Patriot to read his latest article The Liberal’s Double Standard for Justice .



Today, Friday, October 12th from 7 to 9pm EST on American Political Radio, RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS Craig Andresen and Diane Sori discuss ‘#MeToo…A Misguided Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing;’ ‘The Liberal’s Double Standard for Justice’; and important news of the day.

Hope you can tune in at:…or on Tune-In at:

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Woman Who Walks On Stones

Sat, 11/10/2018 - 12:13pm


Woman Who Walks On Stones
By Brother Theo

Part VII The Believer
Belief is never about what we can see; It’s about what we can’t see. This is an old saying passed on by Black Elk, a Sioux, but a red man nonetheless, and therefore wiser than most.

When I arose from my bed in the mid afternoon of the next day, my head felt heavy, as it had when my father (my uncle?) had made me drink the clear To di hi, or black water, as my folk call it, liquor. Even though I had been in my bed for more than ten hours, my body felt lethargic, my brain was numb. My memories of childhood drunkenness had seemed like like snapshots in an incomplete album, while my memories of last night were clear, concise, and most of all coherent. I thought about how I felt. how did I feel?

I let my mind loosen itself from the bonds of my body and my thoughts, and felt tugged backward. Back down the rabbit hole. I remembered as if I were watching an old movie vignette my mother (still not right, but better than aunt) told me to make some pictures and had left some blank pages and some crayons on my little writing table. I remembered, as if for the first time, drawing pictures of the monsters on the mesa, snake, and the great cat. I remembered with a start the acid sarcasm from my mother, the beatings from her and my father, the long periods of imprisonment. Unwanted memories of a time, after my father began to do…things to me in the name of setting things right. I realized that the pictures must change.

I tried to draw a house, a family, a dog. Nothing seemed right though. Everything seemed false. finally I gave up. Hopelessness replaced hope, and time began to lose it’s meaning. But I clung to an idea that my Akei had taught me, that in hopeless, one can always find hope. One morning I awoke to find a blank piece of paper thumbtacked to my wall. I knew that I must have put it there myself as my body slept during the night. I stood before it and looked at it for a long time before I realized what it was. I could not see her, but I knew she was there, and that she was beautiful. Later, when my mother asked me what it was, I answered “It is an angel in a snowstorm.” I knew my mother did not see her, but this pleased my mother greatly, and it made her believe that I was on the path to the Mormon way, It was not THE Mormon way, but it was a way, for it led me out of the prison of my bedroom ultimately. Now I also remembered how it felt to look at it, vainly searching for the angel in a world that was the blind emptiness of a blizzard that I nonetheless knew to be there. It made me feel utterly alone, as lost as the angel must have been. That was exactly how I felt right then.

Turning my steps to the bathroom I looked down down at my feet. They were brown on top like the feet of all my people and whiter on the soles. I imagined that whiteness spreading up over the tops of my feet, my ankles and legs, covering my entire body in whiteness and I wondered what it must be like to be white. I wondered what it must be like to not being able to see what I saw last night or to speak to the spirits that live in the stars. Was that what praying to the creator was like? I didn’t think so. I had prayed to the creator many times in the Mormon church. I had been taught how to do so by the missionaries, then my mother. I had reached out to the creator, but the creator never reached out to me. I had always thought that I had never gotten it right. That I had missed something or that something had missed me. I had tried, tried with all my heart to believe, but I had failed in my belief.

Standing in my bathroom I turned on the light and leaned close to the mirror. I had never questioned the scar on my shoulder as being the results of falling from the Mesa. I had never questioned that the scar was the result of my own foolishness. Looking closely at the scar now I wondered how I had ever seen it for less that the thing it was. The teeth marks were clearly evident, and a vague, but discernible shadow of malignant cruelty festered over the scar binding the moment of the act to the evidence of violence. I knew somehow, that the next time I looked, I would see only the faded scar which was the result of a foolish child’s attempt at adventure. So I looked closely now. I took a long look at a bite mark that shifted and swelled, purpling bruised flesh. As I watched my vision blurred with tears. I suddenly realized that the reason I had never heard the Creator’s voice was because I had never believed. The thought swept through my mind, clearing all before it. I had not wanted to believe, because this was the price of belief. Truth, untouched by pity, or compassion. The facts of our existence without the comfort of denial. The deadness of life surrounded by other lost souls forever wandering a material wasteland. The vast wind of this realization caused memories of childhood to fly by like objects in a whirlwind. My people, the empty poverty of the reservation, the families huddled together against the constant onslaught of indifference from a rainbow of other peoples. It shone a great light as it arched over my people, illuminating the gray nothingness of our lives. Lives that had had the color sucked out of them by that rainbow. Lost in a maelstrom of emotions I felt myself being pulled toward that rainbow, forward, toward the mirror. I knew if I was pulled into it I could forget last night’s vision. I could stop seeng things that my mind told me simply could not be there. I could go back to believing that my aunt and uncle were my mother and father,and forget that Beaver was way to old to be real.

As my face touched the rainbow I saw that it was hollow, and allowing my face to penetrate it I saw something on the other side. The enormous coyote was standing thirty feet away, grinning at me. Surrounding him and spreading out in every direction as far as I could see was a desert landscape littered lavishly with the remains of plastic bags, empty boxes, broken furniture and every description of what remained of people’s lives when they were done with them. There was no color. the dark sky overhead contained stars, but not those of this world. The screams of tortured souls echoed among the jagged peaks that jutted up all around me like rotting teeth in a cannibal’s mouth. Before the monster could speak I placed my hands against the wall of my bathroom and pushed hard.

The coyote’s grin grew wider as he said “yes Stonewalker, fight it.” He licked out toward me. I pushed harder, but by now my head was entirely through, and I could feel the rest of me being drawn through.

The coyote stepped forward and he licked the scar. “You are lost girl, and all alone.”

This made me think of the angel in the snow storm, and in a voice distorted by panic and effort I managed to cry out “Please, I want to believe.” With a final effort I cried again “Please, don’t let me be lost! I I do not want to be alone!”

I felt a powerful force take control of every atom of my body and felt myself being pulled back. as by body began to move back I actually saw the inside wall of the rainbow; it was shiny and slick looking as the inside of a sausage casing might look. Color pulsed through the wall as I was drawn further outside of it. Seeing his quarry being drawn from his grasp, the huge beast lunged forward and taking my entire head into his mouth he snapped his jaws shut on me. I tensed for the sensation of being torn apart, but I may as well have been encased in glass for all his effort. The great coyote planted his feet and shook his head from side to side, but his teeth slid easily over my hair and skin. From the inside I could see that his dagger like canines were easily a foot long. It was both terrifying and fascinating to see the process of his effort to pull my head off from inside his mouth. after one last look at his tongue flattened against my face, the sight was replaced by my bathroom mirror; In it was a small diorama of my native village. Next to the village was a path which led to the top of the sacred mesa which had lines of many of my people walking as if in a dreamlike state up the path carrying gifts of the earth in their arms. Hovering over the mesa was a fat rainbow which pulsed with different colors as the people fed their gifts into it. Each returning figure looked grayer and more starved than those ascending. My eyes shifted focus, and I saw myself reflected in the mirror, wide eyed, my features a rictus of impending violent death. Behind myself I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, her face as composed as if it had been carved in marble, and her hands were on my back.

Moments, or years later I was standing on nothing, surrounded by white nothingness. I took a step, then two, and then froze. Where was I? How far was a step in this place? Had I moved two steps, or two hundred miles? My eyes ached with the strain as I tried to make out a landmark, a clue to how I had entered this place. I feared movement. What if I walked off the roof of a building? Or into a raging current? Taking a moment to gain control of what was rapidly becoming a rising panic, I decided to call out. “Hello?” My voice must have quavered, but the nothingness was far more than visual. It was as if my voice had encountered a wall of damp cloth, the words extinguished as quickly as they were spoken. If anything this was more terrifying than the whiteness which surrounded me. I knew that I would not, could not. scream, for to scream and hear nothing would push me into madness. As I fought for control of my sanity it occurred to me that I had become the angel in a snowstorm, and that no one would ever see me or hear me again, for who would believe in something they could not see? Hearing gasps and the sounds of struggle coming from inside the house, Beaver rushed up the steps of the porch and burst into the house, the big tomcat right behind him. a cry from the bedroom drew his attention, but he followed instead the movement of shadows in the bathroom. Standing before him was a beautiful young woman, clad in a white shift and some kind of flowing robe: she was balanced on the balls of her feet, and looked ready to leap at the sink and into the mirror.

The old man had just enough time to see something strange, something like a multicolored hot air balloon floating over a makeshift village of old homes, trailers and shacks reflected in the mirror. The angel, for what else could she ever be, glanced briefly at him; in her right hand she grasped some kind of double edged short sword pointed at the mirror. It looked very sharp. Both figures froze as the voice of the great cat, now the size of a great dane roared out “Stop! this is not for you diyin ya naal a i, if you make a move you shall answer to the ceator!”

Lowering her sword the angel spoke softly. “He must not be allowed to live.”

“His time is not now,” said the big cat sitting now. “I know she is under your protection, but if the stars are to be as they were when I left them, then she must needs be also at risk.”

“The fate of that one” he inclined his huge head toward the mirror, which was now merely that is written there.”

A Faithful Saying

A House Divided?


A Refresher Course On Fake News Before You Vote

A Faithful Saying

The Butcher Shop

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Trump Says “Adios” to Birthright Citizenship

Fri, 11/09/2018 - 4:21pm

Ending birthright citizenship, better known as dropping the anchor baby, is the most significant illegal immigration reform the President Trump has announced. With a single executive order, he unplugs a beacon that attracts scammers from the world over. He also attacks a visible manifestation of the Foreigners First mindset that has infected the State Department, and the rest of the federal bureaucracy, since the 60s.

Gary McCoy, Shiloh, IL

For those late to the discussion, birthright citizenship is the GPS theory of national allegiance. If your pregnant wife was sitting in the stands at Lambeau Field and she got so excited she gave birth, the resulting baby would not be entitled to season tickets for the rest of his life. But if your wife, Consuela, was an illegal alien in a sanctuary city, who gave birth in a sanctuary maternity ward, your new child would be a Yankee Doodle Dandy. An instant US citizen with all the welfare rights that come with the birth certificate.

Trump will end that.

As is customary in these situations the left and its propaganda arm the Opposition Media instantly sprang to the defense of this devaluing of US citizenship. Even worse, the OpMedia had no trouble recruiting reflexive anti–Trumpers like Paul Ryan (R–INO). Ryan evidently liberated by his banishment to private life, stabbed Trump in the back using his favorite tactic of preemptive surrender. He claims anchor babies aweigh will require an amendment to the Constitution.

The left’s defense of birthright citizenship relies much on sentiment and sad stories and is light on facts. The talking points read like Shotgun Joe Biden wrote the memo. Here are the main defenses of this nonsensical geography theory of national obligation:

  1. The plain language of the 14th Amendment guarantees birthright citizenship.
  2. Birthright citizenship has been a part of the US since the beginning.
  3. The Supreme Court has ruled illegals are entitled to birthright citizenship.
  4. Throwing anchor babies overboard required amending the Constitution.

Each point is factually incorrect. Here is the plain language of the 14th Amendment: “All persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” The key phrase is “subject to the jurisdiction thereof.” The author of the citizenship amendment, Sen. Jacob Howard, who ought to know what he meant, explained, “This will not, of course, include persons born in the United States who are foreigners, aliens, who belong to the families of ambassadors or foreign ministers accredited to the government of the United States, but will include every other class of person.”

This was tested in the case of Elk v. Wilkins where an Indian sued, contending he had birthright citizenship. Elk lost. The court ruled, “No one can become a citizen of a nation without its consent.” It took passage of a law in 1924 to grant birthright citizenship to American Indians.

The Supreme Court has never addressed the question of birthright citizenship for illegals. The case defenders cite, Wong Kim Ark, concerned two Chinese diplomats who were in the country legally and had a child. In their wisdom, the judges used subjectship under English common law, which the Founders had specifically rejected in the Declaration of Independence, to arrive at a decision that would be overturned today. The case said nothing about aliens in the country illegally.

Mark Levin said, “Not until the 1960’s [was] the Constitution …interpreted to convey birthright citizenship on the children of illegal aliens. And not due to any congressional statute or court ruling, but decisions by various departments and agencies of the federal bureaucracy.”

The federal bureaucracy is controlled by Trump, intermittently at least, so he can tell the executive branch to close the border maternity ward. An amendment isn’t necessary.

Trump should make the order retroactive to the first day of the administration. Certainly, the left will file a lawsuit and fall into a trap of their own making. This is the defining case that can overturn Wong and restore the original intent to the 14th Amendment and not the Hallmark Card legal philosophy that the government has followed for over 50 years. That’s a victory that will last long after the Trump administration.

Finally, Paul Ryan’s back–stabbing response when asked about Trump’s most important policy reinforces my advice to conservatives. Go on strike when you vote in congressional races. Conservatives should vote for every Republican candidate except Representatives. On that line write “On Strike.” Without the conservative base, always taken for granted, Republicans can’t win. In 2020, after the country club conservatives who survive have learned their lesson, resume voting as normal.

Conservatives will never see change in Congress until they change who’s in Congress. Going on strike is the place to start.

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Dodging The FaceBullet

Thu, 11/08/2018 - 11:15am

Got a bit of a scare this morning, and decided to dodge the FaceBullet before I got Alex Jonesed. While distributing my latest article, after twenty or so postings, suddenly the next posting was refused with a message that it had failed to go through. Shortly after that Facebook told me I had to log in again. Now, if you understand Facebook procedure that is the preliminary to going to Facebook Jail. Amazingly, I was able to log back in, and posted the word “Test” which showed I was able to post to my main page.

When you publish as much as I do, you cannot be held hostage by a social media platform that goes on the whims of any person out there who thinks they are offended. I am an op/ed journalist so it’s almost guaranteed that I will offend somebody. You cannot state an opinion without encountering a counter opinion. It is very important to neo-liberals to shut people like me up! They do it with Facebook Jail, and if you develop a “criminal” record they execute your account with a FaceBullet.

I have a “paper route” on Messenger of loyal followers. These are people who have followed me over the years, and look forward to reading my articles over morning coffee. On Facebook there are pages I post to, some liberal, and therein lies the problem. If one member of one group or page gets their shorts in a knot it could mean disaster for distribution. Therefore, I’m stopping postings to Facebook pages, and groups as of now. As I write this I’m having to sign in again, and again as FaceBullet execution squads fire continuously.

During Facebook’s last run at me I began to set up, and rely on general Internet. My readership has grown. I have a strict schedule of publication that I adhere to. When people get used to the same thing every day it makes it easy to find you. I cannot chance relying on a medium that is so fickle, such as Facebook. I’ll include links here so you can read my articles. As long as possible I will continue the paper route, but frankly, the writing is on the wall, and I will not be another Alex Jones! I’m publishing this on The Tea Party Tribune and my main blog.

Freedom of speech has been so restrained in our current time that it has become necessary to resort to methods such as these. While such as myself attempt to inform and entertain, people such as Jim Acosta scream at, and interrupt the president. His Facebook account is safe! I’m not going away. I’m not ceasing my daily publications. I’m dodging a FaceBullet I know will surely come. I’m not even sure if I can post the link to this article, as Facebook algorithms prowl looking for a bad word among my works. I will respond to anyone who PMs me as long as I can, but will not post publicly on Facebook after this article. Below are links to my work. Please pass this link to anyone you think may be interested.


@secondwilbur and @wiiiilbur on Twitter

The Butcher Shop on

Wilbur Witt on LinkedIn

My main email is [email protected] If you email me I am constructing a new email based paper route.

Thank you

The Butcher Shop

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Trump Accosts Acosta

Thu, 11/08/2018 - 9:39am

Trump accosts Acosta! I just watched an altercation at a press conference between President Trump and Jim Acosta of CNN. I drew several things from this. In my recent article about fake news I laid out the ins and outs of the fake news profession. Where it came from, why it’s there, and how you can spot it. I even included a video from a liberal democrat who agreed with me, and went to greater depth to try to explain it. Here I’m going to show you a prime example of how this works in practice.

The CNN reporter rose to ask his question. He continually interrupted the president, challenging his authority. He centered on the “caravan,” the left’s current child in need. Then, now watch this, he referred to the members Therein as “refugees.” He proceeded to expound breaking the law for the greater good while the President continued to try to correct him. Then some other jug head in the press corp rose to defend this rude bastard while some poor girl tried to pry the microphone from his cold, dead hands. You can’t make this stuff up, folks. I saw it on TV.

When foreign invaders are referred to as refugees the general public accepts that. That is FAKE NEWS! When a reporter, and I use that term loosely, challenges the president, that is an effort to qualify the fake news. The reporter wasn’t smart enough to word his question intelligently, he was grandstanding for his bosses, and the gullible public.

When someone continually interrupts someone as they try to answer a question that tells you that their question was moot, and they were reinforcing it with showmanship. It has become fashionable to interrupt, talk down to, and disrespect the President. It’s cool, it gets views, it tears down the country as a whole.

I’m not saying you have to agree on everything that Donald Trump says, but I am saying if you’re in the White House Press Corp you should be intelligent enough to ask a question with dignity for both him, and yourself, and respect for the American people.

Freedom of the press is there for just that. To ask questions, and report answers to the people. Then, if you have an opinion, THAT’S for the editorial page, not the FRONT page. From washed up pole dancers, to truck loads of wetbacks, main stream media has tried it all, and it has all fallen short. Lies, and the lying liars that tell them!

I think Donald trump is a prophet. How else could he step into the lion’s den, and walk away unscathed? And I wonder what kind of training, or education these “reporters” have. I could have tripped this guy up a dozen times, and I’m just a guitar player from Austin. And it’s not that I disagree with the reporter, which I do. It’s just common decency. Respect. Presenting one’s self as a professional. The sad part is that a lot of the public will dig no deeper than the look on the President’s face as this fool foamed at the mouth. Press Corp my ass!


The Butcher Shop

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A House Divided?

Wed, 11/07/2018 - 9:04am

A House Divided? A divided house is not necessarily a bad thing. Single party rule never comes out good. So the Democrats have the house, so what? They’re gonna impeach Trump! No they’re not. They may indict, but then it goes to the senate, which means it goes nowhere. And as far as passing crazy laws? The Supreme Court. Good luck with that. Trump has to change his stripes a bit as he faces a BALANCED House.

You must understand that the two political parties we have didn’t even exist when the constitution came to be. But the signers of it knew politicians. Politicians are dedicated to serving the people without having to resort to work. If you don’t believe that, just look at them now that the campaigning is over. They’ve had to travel, speak, meet people, listen, and respond, every day, several hours, just like the rest of us, and it damn near killed ‘em! The best thing to come out of this election cycle was Obama losing his voice.

You may never actually meet your senator, but you could bump into your congressman (or woman) at the grocery story during Christmas break. People can vote for someone they know with little regard to party affiliation. I know I have. Trump won through a victory in the Electoral College. Hillary won the popular vote, but ignored the advice to work the electoral strong points. Obama understood it. So did her husband. Everyone was talking about blue waves and red tsunamis, and completely overlooked the man in the street, democratic streets, voting exactly like they, and their parents always had! Amazing, isn’t it?

You must look past the rhetoric. Pelosi is not a communist. Beto is not a convicted felon. He’s also not a senator, just saying, and Trump IS the president of the United States! Presidents have always had to contend with opposition in the House. Lincoln sweated blood gathering votes to pass the thirteenth amendment. Now, you’d think, with the south on its knees, and victory literally on the horizon, that bill would have flown through Congress. I mean the Civil War was all about freeing the slaves, right? And all the Democrats were hiding out somewhere down in Georgia. The fact remains that while the Republicans were going on and on about ending slavery, when it came right down to it they balked. It squeaked by. And by the way, it didn’t actually end slaves. Read it carefully. No person could be indentured or held in slavery UNLESS they were sent to prison, which basically makes them . . . SLAVES! Knowing that makes the ratio of black to white in prison so uneven, but that’s none of my business.

So what will a balanced House give us? I know, I know, you’re worried about that wall. Yes, Congress can now put restraints on a building project like that, but remember, Donald J. Trump is still the Commander in Chief! Did you notice all those troops on the border recently? I couldn’t even talk on the phone from all the gunships flying over my house. The Army has unique ways of solving problems in the field. That’s why they call them “Field Problems.” They arrived and immediately began to string Constantino wire along the border. You’ve seen that stuff. Along the tops of prisons and some schools in Detroit. Wire interlaced with razor blades. Climb THAT bit! And it’s so cost effective. We already HAVE the wire!

Of course, for a while, we’ll have a “Night of the Long Pens” where the Democrats will bow up and exact revenge across the isle, but, unless I’m wrong, you will begin to see bi-partisan legislation creep by. Shouts of “Absolutely NOT” will slowly give way to, “Well, let’s look at that.” We don’t send people to Congress to quote talking points and eat fancy dinners. We send them there to govern! We all agree that we need health care, so give us some. They’re already robbing us blind, put some of that money towards aspirin. Nobody LIKES the situation along the border, so FIX it! Just KEEP the army down there on a rotation basis. We do that’s all over the world anyway. If they weren’t there they’d be picking up cigarette butts at Fort Hood. I guarantee you a soldier would rather be “soldiering” than policing the grounds. That’s not what they signed up to dol. Hey! Legalize marijuana. Canada did. But the New Democratic majority needs to be aware that if they don’t PRODUCE something other than hate Trump speech that Blue Tide that came in last night can go right back out again in 2020!


The Butcher Shop

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Tue, 11/06/2018 - 8:02am

In the struggle to make Child Protective Services more “Protective” there are those within the CPS who need to be weeded out, but there are those so called “champions” who discredit, stalk, and even attack people who have real axes to grind, and real things to offer. Over the years I have been involved with CPS. We have evolved into a cooperative relationship, some of our interaction has even improved the department. We need children to be protected. I agree. But someone wrestling with a situation where their kids are involved can become desperate, and act like a terminal cancer patient running to Mexico for some “cure” they can’t get in America. There are those who prey on these people. They are a blight. They undermine such organizations as Angel Eyes Over Texas. Jim Black constantly monitors changes in laws and procedures, and educates the public, all while working with the CPS for improvement. He also alerts his members to blights. Amy Charron is just one such blight on the effort.

Before I begin this tirade a disclaimer is needed. Amy, if indeed that is her real name because Brother Theo has uncovered at least five aliases she sports, fancies herself as a champion of childless mothers everywhere. Her web of lies, and half truths is so extensive that writing about her can lead you down so many rabbit trails you’ll invariably quote something that you believed to be true, but winds up being some spin she generated that got included in some report that while appearing to be investigative journalism ends up being just another “Amyism.” What I will try to do here is present the facts, dispel the lies, and give you my honest opinion from my personal experiences with this person.

My name is Wilbur Witt, Jr. As many of you know my pen name is Bill the Butcher, and I am a member of a bunch of merry men and women in something we call the Butcher Shop. I am a straight, conservative, retired, cigarette smoking, martini drinking Texan. The reason I’m telling you this is because I, too, have been stalked, and attacked by Amy Charron.

Amy’s story line is the usual victim. Big bad CPS took her little girl, Markel, from a hospital while she sat in the waiting room, crying and begging Jesus for a miracle. The child was there for a rash on her butt. Amy claims that the Po Po wrestled her down, locked her in some room, under the pretense of changing the little girls’s diaper, but in reality spirited little Markel away to the waiting arms of her Stepfather, the evil Doctor McDonald!

Now what follows are some murky facts, and my take. Amy had a history of symptoms of Munchausen by proxie. That wasn’t little Markel’s first visit to the ER. There was a history here. One of our sources told us that when Amy was informed that the child would be in the ER for about two hours, she took it upon herself to go on a dinner date with her latest “bodyguard.” The waters become even more murky here, but the end result was little Markel ended up with the McDonalds, and Amy ended up doing one of her multiple stays in a Texas nut house! This particular event is the only evidence we’ve found that Markel even exists, but more about that later.

It was then that Miss Don Quioté began her assault on CPS windmills. Allegedly her Father was the late Mark Charron. I haven’t verified this, but I’ll give her a pass. You have to be careful with Amy because you can’t really prove she’s a woman. You gotta do a Crocodile Dundee. Just saying. But, she used this tale of linage to portray herself as the deprived princess of a hit songwriter, attempting to elevate her image to that of a singing star. Being famous is very important to Amy. She has left messages on my phone about talking to a “very famous” judge and a “very famous” lawyer, and telling me charges were being filed on me for stealing “thousands of dollars” in jewels, and her “evidence” proving her case. More about that later, too.

Amy began a Facebook presence. She supposedly was making a documentary out in Hollywood. That’s another Amyism. She always says she’s connected with “very famous” entertainers, and she’s “going public” to expose her current enemy of choice. I myself have had that honor, and Mr. Robert Baty currently holds that position.

While Amy claims to have filed several “Very Famous Federal Cases,” there is no real evidence of them, and most certainly Markel is not back with “Mommy Dearest!” While she claims to be filing charges with police on myself and others, each time she walks into a police station they show her the door. To explain this she claims the Houston PD has put hit men after her, indeed have even killed one of her “bodyguards,” because she has the goods of former Governor Rick Perry. No doubt if there’s a buck in it somewhere, Amy will claim to be the founder of the #METOO movement. The only “METOO” here is all the homeless men she’s picked up, gone into a relationship with, and dubbed them the new bodyguard!

Amy dropped out of weight sometime around 2012. My bad. Freudian slip. I meant sight, not weight. She didn’t drop any weight. I don’t know where she went. Prison, Austin State Hospital, or just roaming the country in a schizophrenic haze, take your pick. She finally surfaced a couple years ago, complete with a new bodyguard, and called me. She told me the Houston Police Department had killed her former bodyguard and she had to leave Houston to hide until the US Army could get her out of the country for her safety. She asked if she could stay with me for a couple weeks. I was a bit put off by her story, but having been in country music for forty years I thought, “What the hell? Might be fun!” Well, she pulled up about five in the morning with a huge UHaul truck with her jee-jaws in it, accompanied by said bodyguard, who turned out to be a really nice guy, and one hell of a cook. She commenced to traverse Central Texas trying to sell this and that out of the truck, and when she finally got an offer of $250 for the whole shooting match she asked if she could store the stuff in one of my sheds. I had a friend take her to one of our houses and she unloaded everything into a workshed. They turned the truck in, and suddenly, she had to return to Houston to present evidence in a “very famous” court case. Guess the Houston hit man took a day off, huh? Only one itty bitty problem. They didn’t have no money. So, for the investment of forty dollars I put the “Very Famous” Amy Charron on a bus back home. Hey, that rhymes. I need to remember that.

I truly thought that I’d seen the last of her. Still her stuff was in the shed. Surprisingly, I never, until much later, looked at it. The man I sent to unload it told me that outside of some big clock it was mainly a bunch of crap. It wasn’t costing me anything so I just let it sit there in case Amy ever came for it. Then the attack began.

While my friend and I were cleaning soiled panties, condoms and drug paraphernalia out of the spare bedroom in my main house, bodyguard called me and left a message to call QUICK! Apparently “Very Famous” Amy Charron was in a “Very Famous” pickle down at the courthouse, or maybe the hit man had showed up, I don’t know. I didn’t call back. When nailed in her stalking, threats, and lies, Amy has a convenient dodge. She just checks into the local laughing academy, and the charges are dismissed. Brother Theo uncovered an extensive history of charges being leveled against her, subsequently all being dropped. In Texas you get a get out of jail free card if you’re a licensed nut. Shucks, even my daughter in law iJackie even used that one. It works!

The calls began! She accused me of being a lying, drunken homosexual who had stolen “thousands” of dollars in jewels and other valuable items from her, and I needed to turn myself in before a “very famous” sheriff came to arrest me. Well, being a good dobee, I arranged bail and proceeded to the Po Po. Between all the laughter, and slapping of the knees, I quickly understood that Amy’s phone calls had been just one big bi-polar delusion.

She attacked me for the better part of six months. During this time she skipped around the country. She went to Michigan where she stayed with, and left MORE stuff with a lady there, who called me and told me all about it. Then she raced out of there when she thought those police had put a hit on her. Oh, FYI, I’ve SEEN the real Amy Charron! Nobody is hitting on her, if you know what I mean. She got on some talk show in California (allegedly) where she called me everything but a white man, and ended up, you guessed it, back in Houston claiming to now be a victim of Hurricane Harvey. This got her thrown out of a Starbucks, and if y’all will note you did NOT see that on CNN. They opted for the two black guys instead. When I was told she was slandering me on the air in SoCal I finally went and took a look at the Queen’s Jewels stored in my shed. CRAP! Just like my friend had said. Old clock, a few dishes, moth rated clothes, but one box of very interesting documents. Her so-called “evidence!” All showing a criminal, liar, former mental patient who had wove a web of deceit for years. I paid a crew to put it all on the curb and the big claw came around and picked it all up!

I forgot about Amy Charron until about three days ago. A woman I know in Cali sent me a note to call her, and a link to an article, complete with a debate between Amy and one Mr. Baty. The usual. She was telling him how “Very Famous” she was, how “Very Famous” he was not, and going on about her newest bodyguard. He simply asked her to produce her “evidence” which of course she couldn’t because it’s in the city dump. Her website and movie are in the dump too. The person who produced them, whom she didn’t pay, sold me the rights to that years ago. After communicating with Mr. Baty, we decided to go public with this and put her con in the street where her junk had been.

The work with the CPS is arduous. The ranks are filled with mothers who, for one reason or another, have lost their children, and are trying to reunite their families. There is no easy fix. If a mother is innocent, it’s bad, but even those who have made mistakes, but have towed the line, and may get their kids home again, it’s worse. These people are broken, hurt, and afraid. They are perfect victims for people like Amy Charron! While sinking in an ocean of pain they will grasp for anything. Amy is not a life preserver, she’s a shark. One of her scams is to set up funding operations for various causes. The money disappears, and then SHE disappears, often turning on the very people who’d sought her help. She will stalk, threaten, bully, and intimidate. They will pay her to get away. She will no doubt attack me again for this article. I want her to do that. This has to be finished, because someone has to put an end to the shenanigans of the “Very Famous” Amy Charron!

To this day we have not located, nor can we prove that there was ever a daughter, other than the last fateful visit to the ER. Markel has been disappeared. My theory is that the family got together and after many such episodes decided that something must be done. Doctor, and Mrs. McDonald, in their old age, took on a child to raise, and protect. And they erased all traces that would lead Amy into the child’s life again. Kudos to you, Dr. and Mrs. McDonald! The world needs more of you!

The Butcher Shop

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A Refresher Course On Fake News Before You Vote

Mon, 11/05/2018 - 6:05am

With the midterms upon us I figured it was time for a refresher course on Fake News, and the lying liars that deliver it. I saw a very informative video last night which you can see above. Read this article and watch the video and remember what you learned when the Democrats start saying you are heartless because you won’t throw your arms open to seven thousand shinny new WetBacks!

Fake News. You’ve all heard it. There are even Fake News filters you can download, and tutorials on YouTube to help discern between the real, and the not so real. But, what is Fake News? Where did it come from? How long have the news services been compromised? Can we believe anything delivered to us through the Main Stream Media, or any other source for that matter, and what is the agenda behind the news services who follow this script?

Wikipedia defines Fake News as: …a type of journalism or propaganda that consists of deliberate misinformation or hoaxes spread via traditional print and broadcast news media or online social media.[1] Fake news is written and published with the intent to mislead in order to gain financially or politically, often with sensationalist, exaggerated, or patently false headlines that grab attention.

There has always been Fake News. The newspaper giants of the mid to late 1800’s worked overnight to out lie one another in order to provide the “Newsies” in the morning with the fodder to sell more papers. Often wittingly or unwittingly these publications provided public support for government where situations required a fired up, and poorly informed public. From the bombing of the Maine, and all the way to the Tonkin Gulf, news stories fanned flames where only a whiff of smoke existed.

About 1917 a small group of industrialists, that’s right, industrialists, got together and understood the power of the press, but more than that understood the power of controlling the press. They figured that if the information systems could be made to sing from the same sheet of music that it would lend legitimacy to the news coming out, and greatly benefit their plans for a more unified world especially if that music were THEIR music!

With a small amount of reasoning it came down to controlling just twenty-five national publications which while giving the illusion of competition, were actually under the command of the same eighteen editors who reported to J. P. Morgan, Rockefeller, and associates. The former literary dog fight became the renowned, and trusted Main Stream Media which eventually bled over to radio, TV, and even movie plots, all dancing together like the Radio City Rockettes. The image was one of integrity and gave the public the comfort of knowing the freedom of the press would KEEP America great, and Walter Cronkite most certainly edited the Ten Commandments for Moses. Gotta be true! We saw Moses at the movies.

This system flourished in full force from WWI all the way to around 1967 when the kids in the street began to point out we had no business in Vietnam no matter WHAT Cronkite said, and the ricochets all over Dealy Plaza were blowing bigger holes in the Warren Report than the one in Kennedy’s head! Fake News can be tricky. There are many variations. Remember the early days of the National Enquirer? We all knew it was a rag, but when there was a picture of a dead monkey with a cigarette in his mouth under a banner headline reading, GOVERNMENT ADMITS DEAD ALIEN FOUND AT ROCKWELL! you’d buy the paper! I know I did. The human trait of reading the absurd makes you want to read stuff you know to be false the same way you’d pay for a ticket to see Clint Eastwood shoot a thug in San Francisco. I know I did that, too!

Now take the Watergate story. Be honest, was Nixon any more crooked than Clinton or Obama? What did he really do. Tried to get some dirt on a Democrat. In the Clinton White House there was dirt. It was on Monica’s knees. The Washington Post, one of those twenty-five newspapers, assigned two reporters to track the story down, expand it, and spoon feed it to the other MSM outlets from sea to shining sea and Nixon got a free ride home! While the story was based in reality the amplification made Nixon’s sin the crime of the century.

Slowly the lines blurred between sources such as the Enquirer and the New York Times that they became indistinguishable. The paradox was that the alternative media began to see the MSM for what it was. They couldn’t compete with the budget of the Times, The Post, or the TV networks so they devised a new plan. The TRUTH! By the turn of the century the MSM had gone so far afield that telling the truth became a novelty, and people like Alex Jones, Crystal Lee Laramore, and Doc Greene saw an opportunity. One other factor began to filter in that changed the playing field. The advent of the internet. Once the satellites were up and spinning any thirteen year old girl could challenge Barbara Walters. For a while the MSM held sway, but after a while it began to take to the net, spinning the same old yarns. It was losing the war!

We as Americans take some things for granted. Politicians work for the bosses, prices will always rise and the Main Stream Media is one hundred percent, certified Fake News! Infotainment! So why do we keep watching it? We do that for the same reason we bought the paper with the monkey on the front page. MSM eroded slowly. At first I, like many others, scanned the headlines believing that even though I knew it was slanted at least the core would be a few facts, and if I took in ABC, CBS, CNN, and the New York Times, that by forming a weighted average I could arrive at the real story. That’s like having seven layers of icing on a crap cake. Bon Appetit! My final exit was after it became common knowledge that President Trump held some responsibility for Hurricane Harvey. And, of course, he’s wrongfully attacking those poor little darlings running up here to kick down our border fence. Imagine the gall, deploying soldiers to OUR border for Thanksgiving! Obama threw that out in Florida just last night.

But, it doesn’t stop there. Let me ask you. Let’s have a show of hands. How many of you have ever SEEN an ANTIFA member in person? How about some Black Lives Mattering down at your local police department? When was the last time a member of your local police department shot a twelve year old black kid for waving a stick? I don’t believe I’ll have to take my shoes off to count the hands. How can you tell Fake News? In a word, it’s ALL fake! If you see it on cable TV it’s fake, contrived, opinionated stories geared to get you to hear, believe, and above all VOTE! The MSM filters all its news stories through the same cookie cutter mold that goes all the way from innuendo to outright lies! Then, they saturate the alternative media with preposterous claims in an effort to discredit that sector with the hope of luring the buying public back home. Well, it’s not going to work. People read. They think, and we have a president who calls them out on social media every day. We ASSUME they’re liars, and it doesn’t matter if George Soros is behind it or the Mickey Mouse Fan Club, the store brand is beating the national brand hands down!

Just look at this week alone. National Polls (Oh, that’s another MSM trick) says Trump’s approval rating is down to thirty percent. Largest rally EVER in Houston recently. After Harvey last year, they grudgingly admitted that he rushed to Houston, but some bag lady posing as a journalist in New York said the First Lady was wearing the wrong shoes. Trump’s eleven year old son wore the wrong shirt a week before. Then they pitch in the story that Michelle Obama is a man, making it look like its source was Alex Jones in yet another effort to discredit him, and by that the entire alternative movement. Then they taped up Alex’s mouth and set their sights on skewing the midterms ranting about some “blue wave!” Bottom line: Trump is the real president, we’re gaining real ground Making America Great Again, and you’re reading REAL news here at the Tea Party Tribune! Where’s that monkey with the cigarette in his mouth?

The Butcher Shop

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A Faithful Saying

Sun, 11/04/2018 - 5:20am

“It is a faithful saying.” – 2 Timothy 2:11.

PAUL has four of these “faithful sayings.” The first occurs in 1 Timothy 1:15, “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.”

The next is in 1 Timothy 4:6, “Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation.”

The third is in 2 Timothy 2:12, “It is a faithful saying – If we suffer with Him we shall also reign with Him.”

And the fourth is in Titus 3:3, “This is a faithful saying, that they which have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works.”

We may trace a connection between these faithful sayings. The first one lays the foundation of our eternal salvation in the free grace of God, as shown to us in the mission of the great Redeemer. The next affirms the double blessedness which we obtain through this salvation – the blessings of the upper and nether springs – of time and of eternity. The third shows one of the duties to which the chosen people are called; we are ordained to suffer for Christ with the promise that “if we suffer, we shall also reign with Him.” The last sets forth the active form of Christian service, bidding us diligently to maintain good works.

Thus we have the root of salvation in free grace; next, the privileges of that salvation in the life which now is, and in that which is to come; and we have also the two great branches of suffering with Christ and serving with Christ, loaded with the fruits of the Spirit.

Treasure up these faithful sayings. Let them be the guides of our life, our comfort, and our instruction. The apostle of the Gentiles proved them to be faithful, they are faithful still, not one word shall fall to the ground; they are worthy of all acceptation, let us accept them now, and prove their faithfulness. Let these four faithful sayings be written on the four corners of My house.

Jim Greene
The Butcher Shop

The Butcher Shop

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Birthright citizenship – How many children of illegals born here become automatic citizens?

Sat, 11/03/2018 - 10:36pm
Well, a new report has been released which explains just how many children of illegal immigrants receive birthright citizenship. The Pew Research Center says the number of children born to illegal immigrant parents has dropped to its lowest since 2000.

Currently, there are about 250,000 children were born in the U.S. to undocumented parents in 2016. That is about 6% of all children born in the US that year. In 2007, that number peaked to 390,000. But still, 250,000 is still too many. That number should be down to zero.

The question about who deserves, or is entitled to birthright citizenship is tied to perceptions of how much it drives illegal immigration from Mexico and Central America. Birthright citizenship is an irritant to President Trump, who vows to do away with the problem.

But the report explains even further that about 70% of birthright citizens were born to parents who had been in the U.S. for at least five year, and another 20% to parents who had been in the country for more than 20 years, meaning a very small percentage of illegal immigrants are engaging in illegal “birth tourism.” This also leads to chain migration, where other family members of these kids are allowed in, and taxpayers support them for the rest of their lives.

No matter, this bleeds our benefits system dry, which was originally designed to take care of our own citizens, not immigrants.

Trump said he plans to sign an executive order to end birthright citizenship, and Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.) has said he will introduce legislation with the same purpose, as the legality of such an executive order is disputed. I say good, let this go all the way to the US Supreme Court, and get this settled, once and for all.

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The Arms Dealer Joey

Sat, 11/03/2018 - 9:02am

The Arms Dealer
Part II

I remember a time when I would have been ashamed of the things I’ve done. Back when America was this place where a guy really could be anything he wanted to be, I would have been afraid of becoming me. Back then, there was a…like a contract between the powers that be, meaning the government and its various representatives, and the people. In those days, the days of my youth, the powers that be only got in your way if you were a threat to the balance. In return, citizens did their best to obey the laws, uphold American customs, and reach the status of good enough at minimum.

But now, well, if you’re not old enough to remember it, just think of living in a time where you could make your own movie about you, and that was your life. Pretty cool huh? Nowadays I’m just fine with who I am. I got a therapist who not only cleared up my angst about doing some pretty awful things, but also turned me on to some of the biggest scores of my life. In fact, he’s the one who talked me into telling the world (well, the teensy number of people who read those two crazy bloggers in Texas that write for the Butcher Shop) about the day that changed the rest of my life.

My therapist made me see that, nowadays, the powers that be only concern themselves with people who get in the way of chaos! Life’s a funny old possum, as doctor Phil would say. So allow me to introduce myself. Hi, I’m Joey. I’ve always wanted to say that. I want to tell you that my therapist told me that all I really need to do is do a kind of penance; you know, some Our Fathers, or Hail Mary’s after a kind of confession. I have to admit that, as a not so great Catholic, I never could see the logic of confession. After all, God is omnipotent. I mean, he sees you rubbing one out while your thinking something you believe only you’re sick enough to think of while playing serious pocket pool, so what’s the point in telling a third party, a priest for God’s sake, when he already knows? Plus, you sure aren’t going to go into detail about the specific thoughts you were having when the term “impure” thoughts covers the deal, right? But this guy, he talks me into telling the story about one of the most important days in my life to complete strangers; the day I lost my virginity, so to speak.

Let me tell you, it was great! I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Not only that, but there was no down side! A little checking with some friends of friends, if you will, showed me that only like ten people read my story! I could have confessed to being the revived ghost of Hitler, the Kennedy assassination, and nine-eleven if I wanted. Who knew? So, I had some drinks with my old friend from the wars, Munroe, who had turned me on to this therapist in the first place. Turns out we were both suffering from what our therapist calls post give a damn disorder. Munroe, he tells those peckerwoods about the day that changed his life. That time there were eleven people who read it, because I read it too. I’m was actually touched too. When you find out a guy like Munroe, who killed more guys than cancer has a heart; well, it proves what my mentor Devon once said when we were spiking some munitions we were selling to some known terrorists: Even bad men can love their country. Oh, and for you other nine readers, here’s a little inside baseball: the other guy that wrote about the day that changed his life? He’s our therapist! I’m not joking.

It’s like those two idiots in Texas say on one of their many middle of nowhere sites, we’re the news you don’t want to hear. I’d tell you who the guy is, but there’s some kind of doctor patient privilege thing, and as you will see, I’m a truly ethical guy. So, let me say, forgive me my readers, for I have sinned, and it has been a very long time since my last confession.

I feel as though I’ve already said a lot, but Munroe and…we’ll call him the therapist thinks we should tell our story, or at least the part that changed America and two other countries in ways that cannot be undone. But, I’ll let them confess in their own ways. After all, a confession can contain only so much truth. Especially when you are confessing to someone who already knows all there is to know. So, you nine guys can be the priest, and you can hear our confession. We already know Frick and Frack down in Texas will publish it. What else are they going to write about, politics?

Let me begin by saying that I first met Munroe in the late seventies in a meeting that would involve a not so official flight from Virginia to Paraguay. Now, Paraguay elicited about the same kind of interest in America as bottled water in the seventies, but it was a very hot topic where my employer, a certain senator whose name shall go unmentioned (I mean, what if one of you guys actually looked this stuff up? The odds are pretty low I’ll admit, but if you did, you might ask questions, then you’d get asked questions, then…who knows?).

The reason for the trip was that in seventy seven a solid PLR senator in the Paraguayan government decided he wasn’t happy with his everyday take home, or the way things were going; or in this case, not going in his country. To be fair, Laino was the founder of the Authentic Radical Liberal Party. This kind of stuff happens all the time in south american quasi-dictatorships, but in some cases, like this one for instance, the senator, Domingo Laino had a pretty good reputation as a patriot and a good egg, and he was making a pretty big stink about narcotics, human trafficking, and some pretty fancy highway robbery by Alfredo Stroessner, the president of Paraguay from 1954 to 1989, which ought to tell you something about the guy. There was also the question of some pretty serious human rights violations.

Now, Paraguay is a landlocked country stuck between Brazil, Argentina and Bolivia, so I can tell you right off the bat, Joe lunchbox could not have cared less about it, but my guy? He cared. He cared about seven million dollars a years worth. Mr. lunchbox would have been surprised to know that Paraguay’s GDP was about ten thousand dollars per capita. Not bad for a country whose base income was derived from agriculture in the waning years of the nineteen seventies. The average Paraguayan also earned about thirty seven hundred dollars per year. Not a very big piece of the pie. All this is how I came to meet Munroe. I met Munroe because he was taking the the same flight as I was, because some other politicians in America had clients of their own with interests in Paraguay, and Munroe, as a consultant to the company, the one in Langley, had brought a small team in to assess the situation. I was there to protect the narcotics deal and remind Stroessner of the arrangement regarding vigorish tied to a treaty between Brazil and Paraguay; The same treaty being trimmed by Stroessner. I was pretty sure Munroe was there for the human rights thing. The two things to remember here are these: This Laino guy was, for the time and place a pretty straight up guy; Latin America had a few of those in those days too. but he was swimming with way bigger fish than he was. This fits nicely into the second thing to remember. Like our friend Domingo, most Americans don’t know squat about politics, so here’s an impromptu lesson in civics. America is not a democracy, it’s a republic. Whereas politicians are thought to be elected officials whose business it is to see to the welfare of their constituents, they are in reality, people swept into office by money big enough to keep the machine well oiled, and whose business is to see to it that the interests of those people upon whose wallets they rode into office on stay happy.

Now, we can’t have the kiddies seeing the details of that reality, so while guys like me and Munroe did a little globetrotting in the interest of keeping the lights on in the Hamptons, the American media, books, T.V., magazines, Hollywood, billboards and comedians kept Jack Schitt and his wife Mary busy bickering with each other over race, religion, guns and who was free to do what. In other words, everything that was supposed to have been settled by the constitution. But, every supreme court justice has to have something to do, right? I’d like to tell you about how Munroe and I got closer, and the action we saw in Paraguay,but He already got dibs on that, which is only right since he got us into most of the trouble, so I’ll let him tell it his way.

But, for now, this is my part to tell, so I’ll tell it my way. It was early September nineteen seventy seven when I met Munroe. Waiting in the outer room of one of the deputy directors at the company I saw a tall man, easily six seven dressed in a type of light gray BDU’s that I had never seen before. Light gray with a complicated design of lighter and darker colors that made my head hurt to look at. Although I was sure that the man went two hundred and thirty pounds, He had a raw boned look about him, and hands that might easily have been those of an even larger man. They were long fingered, and looked able to grasp with sudden speed. My instincts told me he was capable of inhuman strength and speed. Also, the man’s face looked about sixty years out of place. His hair was right, mostly blonde worn high and tight, the way Dolph Lundgren would eventually wear his hair, but the eyes were slightly sunken, giving him a cadaverous look, and the expression was that of a man who had spent most of his life, if not all of it on the brink of starvation and want. His eyes, always moving never seemed to touch upon me, and yet I had the impression that I had been dissected and reassembled more thoroughly than any post op shrink I’d had ever talked to. When his eyes did touch mine it was when a secretary twitched into the room through a door that suddenly appeared in an otherwise ordinary looking wall and announced that the deputy director would see us now.

In that moment the man I would come to know as Munroe riveted his eyes onto mine in a gaze that was as unbreakable as an arm lock. Those eyes now looked truly to be those of a corpse. A really angry corpse. I suddenly prickled with fear as the thought flitted through my mind that something I had done had created that look of starved privation, and now I was going to be held to account. I felt some slight irritation as well, because sexetary would have been a better term for the woman who now guided us through the door. I mean she was finer than frog hair. She had that whole Veronica Lake thing going on, long straight hair falling over one eye, body by God and maintained by an expensive trainer. I’d bet she didn’t hesitate to take dictation. The part of me that normally ran the show wanted to take a few seconds to do a closer inventory of the woman with her hair worn demurely over one eye, but both of my eyes were being held in a visual straight jacket by a pissed off depression era Frankenstein wearing stealth BDU’s.

Then, just like that, the girl was gone, the door was shut and we were looking at the back of one of the company’s deputy directors. I took the moment to toss my erstwhile companion a look of reproach which was returned with a flat look. Turning to us the deputy director, a man whose name became a household word for a little piece of time, said “Gentlemen, if you will be seated.” He gestured to a small table behind us. “In a few moments we should be joined by the others.” looking sideways at the big man I saw no evidence that the fact we were going to be joined by others affected him in any way. It was news to me though. The senator had sent me here to brief the D.D. on my mission, not the other way around, and although I wanted to tread carefully (after all I might need the goodwill of this man in the future, as I definitely planned to have a job, and a secretary like his someday) I nonetheless wanted to clarify the purpose of the meeting, if for no other reason to assure myself that I had not wound up in the wrong joke. “Uh, sir, my instructions are to brief you on my intended mission and go over my itinerary, sir” the D.D., who looked like all of their kind looked, like a high end attorney who had gotten to the high end the easy way, which is to say through the birth canal, rather than having been dragged there through a keyhole backwards, which is how most high end attorneys get to the high end, showed me the trick. The trick, which apparently can only be learned while being suffocated with caviar, and drowned in champagne, works this way. First, a bland and amiable face freezes for two or three seconds, then, slowly, and I mean very slowly the face goes through a series of expressions beginning with mild surprise and working its way meticulously through various degrees of unpleasantness, pausing momentarily at each stage, finally settling on hostility. It’s a politicians trick, so only politicians can do it. Believe me, I’ve practiced the trick for hours in front of a mirror, and never even come close to being able to carry it off. I’d usually break up laughing at myself before I made it to the look that you might get when you realize you may have a booger on the tip of your nose, but you’re on T.V. or something and can’t check.

I wasn’t laughing now though, this man had taken note of me. This was the facial equivalent of a no trespassing sign accompanied by the sound of a slide being racked. Not good. When he spoke again the director’s voice lacked the midwestern overlay that usually took the nasal edge off the northeastern accent that all men who rise high in the intelligence community have when they are at home with their feet up. Without taking his eyes from mine he said “What about you colonel? Do you have any…instructions that may run contrary to the use to which I might choose to put to your time?”

My eyes twitched over to the big man. “No sir, I’m happy to meet anyone you want me to meet sir.”

“Aren’t you out of uniform colonel?” The slight high pitch in my tone betrayed my tension.

“Aren’t you colonel?” he asked leaning across the table doing his own trick of giving me a brief but genuine broad grin that faded slowly into a look of consternation as he took in my suit and tie.

Damn! Everybody had a trick but me. A buzzer sounded abruptly, ending the moment. The director put his hand beneath the edge of the table and the hidden door opened in the wall again. Three hispanic men entered the room, led by the secretary, who I was at least able to ogle surreptitiously. The tallest of the three was someone I recognized immediately, because I had met him almost exactly one year ago when someone you’ll meet later killed a chilean exile named Orlando Letelier with a car bomb on account of him saying such bad things about Pinochet and the terrible things happening to hundreds of thousands of Chilean citizens. This murder then caused the U.S. to pass a resolution cutting off arms sales to Chile, making a couple of other senators very happy when I sold his government several soviet MIG’s and some French Mirages. General Gustavo Leigh, was wearing a tailored suit with benchmade English shoes that cost as much as a steelworker made in three months. Behind him, and very much appreciating the view from behind of where my attention had been focused were two lithe, quick looking young men wearing polo shirts and chinos.

After introductions were made during which nods were substituted for handshakes we got down to business. It turns out that, as usual there was more to the plot than the title inferred; which, looking back at things, could be the title of a book on Latin American history in the twentieth century. Before I can explain what happened at the table, I have to go back in time a bit. First, in 1973, before I was even a colonel some guys like me and Munroe were stirring up a ruckus in Chile. The reason for this dust up that some senators and some constituents of other politicians were up to pretty much the same business everybody sitting at this conference table were about to get up to. At the root of it was the simple fact that the president of Chile, Salvador Allende, decided to nationalize the copper mining industry. Now, plain and simple when a nation nationalizes an industry, it means that they are changing a deal made with investors outside the borders of their sovereign nation. When Allende got elected he decided that the companies buying their copper from the companies who made the deal and dug the mines were buying it too cheap. So he changed the deal; either bring the price of Chilean copper up to something resembling the international average, or he’d take over the mines and do it himself. When he did that, AT&T, Anaconda Electric and many other U.S. corporations did the math, they decided a working wage in Chile was downright un american.

Why, it was communism is what it was, and they called, you know, their congressman. Unlike when you call your congressman, they got more than a letter thanking them for their interest. They got guys like the ones sitting at the table my seat was warming a chair in front of right now. In fact, one of the guys at my table was at those tables. Good old General Leigh, soon to be part of the ruling Junta under soon to be dictator Augusto Pinochet. General Leigh would become the top politician in the Chilean air force, and a key player in an agreement with, among other south american governments as Paraguay known as Operation Condor, a regional operation to deal with communism, or as Americans like to think of it when they do it, protesting for higher wages, which is how I came to meet the General last year. And I’ll bet all you thought that nineteen seventy six and seven were all about queers getting the right to be queer.

I must say that was the topic I saw everywhere I looked, what with Anita Bryant spewing all that hate out of that pretty mouth of hers, the congressional hearings, and Harvey Milk getting shot for coming out of the closet by another member of the city council no less! Hey, it beat watching the northbound end of a southbound mule, right?

Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, right down to business. So, we already know what the guy paying my rent at the end of the day wanted me to A. reassure president Stroessner that all would remain well in his kingdom, and that their deal was solid, and B., I was to reinforce Laino’s belief that his actions would lead to a repeat of what happened in Chile if he did not tone down his rhetoric, and more importantly he might well be arrested, a thing he was pretty familiar with. What the company had in mind was a little more complicated. It turned out that operation condor had some whiz bang economists up at the university of Chicago who were actually running the show, and in cooperation with their political science department had issued some dire news to the principals in operation condor. South America was about to experience a massive communist revolution. Politicians in every government were speaking out against U.S. policy, i.e. shooting up the countryside indiscriminately where ever protests for higher wages were heard, or demands for clean water, education or, of all things free medical care were spoken of. You know, communist stuff.

Now my mission included collusion with Munroe and the two hispanic kids who, it turns out had graduated the school of the Americas program down in Panama, and were doing time up in Langley learning advanced weapons training. Now, instead of a nice trip to Asuncion, having some nice wine and maybe getting laid, I’m supposed to cooperate with a giant version of G.I. Joe and his murder buddies up to and including maybe having to do this senator Laino myself! I might have to go live in the jungle for an unspecified time, and help train recruits for ‘military asset readiness’. Did I tell you I’d already been to Vietnam? If you’ve been, then you’ll recognize the worst part of all this; the extraction plan, in the event of any of these changes to my end of the mission was to be planned later in accordance with developments. In plain english that means “We don’t really know how we’re going to get your sorry asses out of there yet, but we’ll figure something out.”

I left the outer room last in the hopes of striking up a conversation with the secretary, but struck out in one swing. Man, the rules for that kind of baseball are harsh! Walking down the sidewalk toward the parking lot I saw the large figure of Munroe walking into the tree line maybe a hundred yards away with his back to me. I watched him for a moment wondering where the hell he was going. At the last second he turned looking straight at me, and waved. Startled I looked around to see what might have alerted him to my presence. Finally seeing nothing, I waved back; but he was already gone and I found myself waving at a bunch of trees.

Sharon – The Garden

Liberal/Conservative Podcast

Racism Is A Thing Of The Past

The Old Grey Nag

Why Is It Raining Hate On Happy Cows

The 5200


The Butcher Shop

The post The Arms Dealer Joey appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.


Fri, 11/02/2018 - 8:42am

I never met Rose, who was laid to rest in Pittsburg yesterday. I know nothing about her except she was a Jew, a great grandmother in her late nineties, who went to services at temple the last morning of her life while I was doing good to find the coffee pot and remember who’s children I was. One statement on her obituary I heard on Fox News struck me. She adored her family.

My family can be a bunch of contentious pricks. We can’t get along at Christmas, God help us at a funeral. With the DNA of Silas Witt, and Orin Porter Rockwell, we make good Master Chiefs, and very poor librarians. With all the finger pointing, scandals and accusations it’s little wonder we all live vast distances from each other, mainly in desert regions. We are the typical American family.

So, when I hear of a great grandmother who adored her family it gives me pause. I’ve heard that the shooter believed that the members of the temple supported children being brought over the border. He decided to save America by shooting Rose as she sat in worship that morning. As the prophet, Hank Williams Jr. once said, “I’d love to spit some BeechNut in that dude’s eyes, and shoot him with my ol’ forty-five!” But Rose wouldn’t have. She’d seen his kind before. She just loved children.

It’s almost a given that Rose and I would have been politically opposed as to immigration. As a Jew of her age she would have qualified her stand by memories of boatloads of refugees being refused entry to the US, and sent back to Germany. That was in her lifetime, not something she read in some book. Babies at the border are tar babies, and I wouldn’t have argued with her. Wouldn’t have done me any good. No matter what you think about Texans, we got “Yes ma’am” all figured out!” She was a national treasure. I would have just had tea with her and listened to a voice that wouldn’t have been with us much longer at any count.

As the troops head for the Rio Bravo to stem the flow of what some claim to be an invasion, we need to take a moment, reflect, and remember Rose. We need to remember the family that laid her to rest, the family she adored. Shalom Rose.

The Butcher Shop

The post Rose appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

The 5200

Thu, 11/01/2018 - 8:26am

And now comes the 5200! President Trump’s immigration policy can be summed up in two words. Walls and balls. He began his run for the presidency by announcing that thugs, drug dealers, and rapists were pouring over our southern border at an astonishing rate. And he was right! If you think any different please don’t Bogart that joint, my friend.

With the so-called “Caravan” careening toward Texas we have a new wrinkle in the blanket. 5200 wrinkles actually. With guns, and tanks, and attitude. As Patton said, “Now comes the American Army!” This is not necessarily a bad thing. Let me tell you why.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, with all the hoopla about the wall, everyone’s gonna stand back in snake amazement when the first fourteen year old girl pops over the top of it. Because that’s what illegals do. Jump borders.

The Amazing Doc Greene had a border plan that surpassed any simple wall. Towers with fifty cal machine guns every quarter mile or so. If that wouldn’t get attention I’m not a white boy from Austin. Well, between no wall, and super wall we’re just about half way there.

Soldiers aren’t cops or border patrol. They don’t shout, “SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!” They say, “Pick UP those hands and bag ‘em!” The cost? Nada! Those troops are paid anyway. If they weren’t on the border, they’d be picking up cigarette butts on Fort Hood. And it’s an easy deployment.

While the American soldier would go to to Iraq and serve, it makes a whole lot more sense patrolling our border and stopping an invading force. And it IS an invading force. You done with that joint? The caravan rushed the Mexican border, waving their flag, pushed the fence over, and began stomping toward Texas with every left wing reporter in tow. That’s an invasion.

It’s not going to work out for them. They’re gonna die. Now for the good news. We’re like roaches. Once we show up we almost never pull out. Ask Germany how that worked out for them. In two years, before the next election, if there was still no wall, but not even a jack rabbit had crossed the border, what would you call that? It’s called “border security.” Delivered by Donald J. Trump just like he SAID!

With 5200 combat soldiers down there you could secure the border with a barbed wire fence. The Mexican government is strapped. It’s time we lend an assist to it and together put an end to this lunacy. The Mexican people are not bad people.

It’s time to be good neighbors. We have a new trade agreement, they have a new government, time for a new era. What would be wrong with rotating the 5200 permanently, providing security for both nations. Maybe even see the day when a mother and daughter can cross the bridge at Laredo to just shop at Walmart and go back home. Wow! Think about it.

The Butcher Shop

The post The 5200 appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

The Real Conspiracy Against the Working Man

Wed, 10/31/2018 - 12:01pm

I’ve been resisting the temptation to write about the latest ‘Walk for the Cash’ — the slow–motion invasion that’s gradually approaching our border from Latin America. Illegals have already taken over large swaths of our country, instituted Central America’s wage scale in construction, eliminated high school kids as a viable lawn–mowing alternative, flooded our schools, made hit–and–run a popular pastime and annexed California.

So I was darned if I would allow them to dominate my column, too.

Adam Zyglis: The Buffalo News, NY

But maintaining my willpower is a constant struggle. Particularly when it looks like there are blue–state attorney’s general ready to defend the illegals’ right to take jobs from citizens — regardless of whether the job is with Chipotle or MS–13.

It’s a shame both Democrats and Republicans aren’t as eager to defend citizens who have jobs.

Jay Shambaugh and Ryan Nunn, writing in The Hill, explain that although the economy is booming and unemployment is down, “real wage growth has drifted toward zero. …it has been just 0.4 percent in 2017–18.”

Two of the reasons for the lack of wage growth are systemic and a product of the vast imbalance in power between the job seeker and employer. Regular readers know I’m a conservative and resist government interference in the market. That doesn’t mean I believe individual workers should be at the mercy of soulless Human Resources drones hiding behind the hiring dictates of the executive floor. Currently employers have a de facto union that protects them from employees.

Government at the state level can play an important role in returning competition to the hiring process, which will increase wages as employers are forced to bid for workers. Unfortunately, to date all blue states have done is force nonsensical “ban the box” measures on employers, while red states sleep in the bosom of their corporate donors.

Leftists pushing “Ban the box” want to prohibit employers from asking applicants if they have ever been convicted of a crime. This is a sideshow affecting a small portion of the population.

The question Republicans and Democrats should be banning is the one asking the salary of the applicant’s previous job. This invasion of privacy question gives the employer an insurmountable advantage during salary negotiations. The question immediately sets a ceiling on the salary offer and leaves the applicant has no recourse.

If he refuses to answer the salary question he may as well have put “murder” as his answer in the banned box, because neither he, nor a real murderer, will be offered a job.

This collusion has a major impact on worker’s economic lives and helps to reduce wages. And that’s only one of the ways employers conspire together at the expense of job seekers and job holders.

Another way employers limit competition and keep wages artificially low are industry–wide, no poaching agreements where employers informally agree to avoid hiring workers from competitors in the same industry. No poaching edicts bar an employee from seeking a job with another employer in the same industry where he already has all the relevant experience and expertise and is the most valuable.

It’s as if the industry is running its own NFL, where employees are pledged to a single company, only without cheerleaders and kneeling during company functions.

A great employee, working for a lousy widget manufacturer, is stuck without any hope of moving to better working conditions, because none of the competing widget makers will hire someone from within the industry. Changing jobs forces them to look outside the industry where their experience is discounted. The situation has all the disadvantages for the employee, of an H1–B visa without the airplane trip.

The best part is instead of torturing the law to help gangs cross the border, leftist AGs can use existing statues to prevent employers from ganging up on employees and Republicans can demonstrate their “bi–partisanship” by joining the movement.

The best avenue for leveling the employment playing field is the legal concept of ‘tortious interference.’ Wikipedia defines this as “when one person intentionally damages someone else’s contractual or business relationships with a third party causing economic harm.” That’s a perfect description of a no poaching agreement that prevents an employee (the third party) from changing jobs within an industry and improving his salary and job conditions.

Eliminating the salary question is harder. At the state level, government could expand the definition of privacy to include salary. That would solve one problem, but I fear mission creep in the future.

Results for employees would begin to be felt after the first subpoenas arrived in Human Resources. How about it attorneys general? Why not stop chasing headlines and start chasing employee equality?

The post The Real Conspiracy Against the Working Man appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.


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