Winter Patriot Community Blog

The right-wing Austrian politician Jorg Haider has been killed in a car crash. Too bad.

You can read the rest here or comment below.

... a collection of ragged threads and loose ends that have been in danger of being cut off ...

you can read about them here or comment below

I have been busy scaring the the crap out of myself today. So I thought I would share. Not that any of this is news to readers of WP's blog...

Video: Martial Law. US Army prepares to invade the US
"The plans to implement martial law in America have been taking shape for decades, hidden behind "Continuity of Government" contingency planning. Now, with public outcry over the banker bailout bill at fever pitch, all of the pieces are in place for the U.S. Army to start policing American citizens."

Starting at 5:27 min into the video:
If marshal law were enacted in the US a Clergy Response Team would be used. In many cases the clergy would already be known in the neighbourhoods where they would be "helping to quell fears and ease dissent". According to CBS they already helped to accomplish this in Katrina. One of the "biggest tools at their disposal" is Romans 13. A cleric they interviewed says it means "the government is established by the lord". It also says other scary stuff such as "rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil... [they are] the minister of God to thee for good...[they are] a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil" (like, for instance, those 'evil doer' government dissenters).

All the news is bad, so I thought we could all use a joke. What follows is a thing I found many years ago in Chapter 3 of R. Buckminster Fuller's book, "Critical Path."

Fuller called the poem "Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker. It dates from the depths of the Great Depression and reportedly was sung around campfires in Hoovervilles all over the country. In another venue, I can picture someone like Durante and his big schnoz (or Cagney or Cantor or Carmichael), dressed in a striped jacket, a straw boater, white slacks and shoes and a cane. He shuffles across the stage "makin' the hat" and chanting the lyrics. It's that kind of stuff. . . . Anyway, Fuller attributed the poem to Ogden Nash. Here it is:

Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker

1.
I’m an autocratic figure in these democratic states,
A dandy demonstration of hereditary traits.
As the children of the baker bake the most delicious breads,
As the sons of Casanova fill the most exclusive beds,
As the Barrymores, the Roosevelts, and others I could name
Inherited the talents that perpetuate their fame,
My position in the structure of society I owe
To the qualities my parents bequeathed me long ago.
My pappy was a gentleman, and musical to boot,
He used to play piano in a house of ill repute.
The madam was a lady, and a credit to her cult.
She enjoyed my pappy’s playing, and I was the result!
So my mammy and my pappy are the ones I have to thank
That I’m Chairman of the Board of the National Silly Bank!

Chorus:
Oh, our parents forgot to get married,
Oh, our parents forgot to get wed,
Did a wedding bell chime, it was always a time
When our parents were somewhere in bed.
Then all thanks to our kind loving parents,
We are kings in the land of the free.
Your banker, your broker, your Washington joker,
Three prominent bastards are we, tra la,
Three prominent bastards are we!

2.
In a cozy little farmhouse in a cozy little dell,
A dear old-fashioned farmer and his daughter used to dwell.
She was pretty, she was charming, she was tender, she was mild,
And her sympathy was such that she was frequently with child.
The year her hospitality attained a record high
She became the happy mother of an infant, which was I.
Whenever she was gloomy I could always make her grin
By childishly inquiring who my daddy could have been.
The hired man was favored by the girls in Mummy’s set
And a trav’ling man from Scranton was an even money bet.
But such were Mammy’s motives, and such was her allure,
That even Roger Babson wasn’t altogether sure.
Well I took my mother’s morals and I took my daddy’s crust,
And I grew to be the founder of the New York Blanker's Trust.

Chorus:
Oh, our parents forgot to get married, etc.

3.
In a torrid penal chain gang on a dusty southern road,
My late lamented daddy had his permanent abode.
Now some were there for stealing, but my daddy’s only fault
Was an overwhelming tendency for criminal assault.
His philosophy was simple and quite free of moral taint:
Seduction is for sissies, but a he-man wants his rape.
Daddy’s total list of victims was embarrassingly rich,
And one of them was Mother, but he couldn’t tell me which.
Well I didn’t go to college, but I got me a degree.
I reckon I’m the model of a perfect S.O.B.
I’m a debit to my country but a credit to my Dad,
The most expensive senator the country ever had.
I remember Daddy’s warning -- that raping is a crime,
Unless you rape the voters a million at a time.

Chorus:
Oh, our parents forgot to get married, etc.

4.
I’m an ordinary figure in these democratic states,
A pathetic demonstration of hereditary traits.
As the children of the cop possess the flattest kind of feet,
As the daughter of the floozie has a waggle to her seat,
My position at the bottom of society I owe
To the qualities my parents bequeathed me long ago.
My father was a married man and, what is even more,
He was married to my mother -- a fact which I deplore.
I was born in holy wedlock, consequently by and by,
I was rooked by every bastard who had plunder in his eye.
I invested, I deposited, I voted every fall,
And I saved up every penny and the bastards took it all.
At last I’ve learned my lesson and I’m on the proper track:
I’m a self-appointed bastard and I'M GOING TO GET IT BACK!

Chorus:
Oh, our parents forgot to get married,
Oh, our parents forgot to get wed,
Did a wedding bell chime, it was always a time
When our parents were somewhere in bed.
Then all thanks to our kind loving parents,
We are kings in the land of the free.
Your banker, your broker, your Washington joker,
Three prominent bastards are we, tra la,
Three prominent bastards are we!

Cheers, everyone!

Yesterday, Chris Floyd posted one of his best pieces ever. It's called "The Wounded Shark: 'Good War' Lost, But the Imperial Project Goes On" and you must read the entire piece, if you haven't already done so. I can wait.

I respect and admire Chris Floyd's analysis -- especially in this case -- but I've also been having some mildly interesting thoughts of my own, about a few of the issues he touched on, and therefore I offer the following excerpts from his post, with extended comments.

I don't think I'm saying anything Chris hasn't already figured out. I think I'm saying things that he couldn't fit into his piece, which was already huge -- and brilliant! And therefore this commentary is not meant as a critique but rather as a companion piece to "The Wounded Shark".

You can read Chris Floyd's "The Wounded Shark" here ... and/or read my piece, "A Formula For Endless War" here ... and/or comment below:

The phones were ringing off the hook in the offices of "our" "Representatives", with public sentiment more or less equally divided between "NO!" and "HELL, NO!"

But the House passed the bill anyway.

This tells you all you need to know.

You can read the rest here or comment below.