Damn! There's a war going on.

 

By Joseph Walther

 

There’s a nasty rumor that there is a war going on in Iraq. Admittedly, I’ve not paid as much attention to this as, perhaps, I should have been. What with all the stuff going on with Brittney Spears, Mel Gibson, Michael Richards, Paris Hilton, the Golden Globes, the Oscars, the Donald Trump/Rosie O’Donnell feud, and a seemingly endless list of other socially critical things, I just have not had the time. Making matters worse, Prince Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles were in Philadelphia this past week. I’ve simply been too busy to worry about some annoying damn war thousands of miles away.

 

            So, in the interests of fairness and my unyielding desire to keep you, my readers, up to snuff on as much as I can, I decided to forgo watching the entertainment channel for the entire weekend so that I could do some checking on this Iraq—where ever the hell that is—war business.

 

            Oh my gawd! How long’s this crap been going on? I’ve simply lost track of things. I clearly remember George Bush invading the place to save us from terrorists. I specifically remember him standing on that aircraft carrier flight deck a few months later and saying, “Mission accomplished.” He looked pretty spiffy, too, all decked out in that leather flight jacket… that Alfred E. Neuman (What, me worry?) clueless sort of grin on his face. Regardless, he’s the President of the United States for gawd’s sake. I just took his word for it.

 

            Well, according to the grapevine, not only is a war raging in Iraq, things are not going well for our side; and a majority of Americans is none too happy about it. My anonymous sources also tell me that those angry Americans handed the Republican Party their asses in the mid-term election back in November because of it. I suspect, in view of the things I’ve found out, that this is true, even though I missed that election because I overslept.

 

            From what I can gather, everyone, except the axis of evil—George Bush, Dick Chaney, and Donald Rumsfeld—thinks we’re in the middle of a civil war. Hold on a second. Someone’s trying to get my attention by talking into my earplug… Um, it seems that Donald Rumsfeld is no longer part of the axis of evil. Some dude by the name of Robert Casey is in there now. Hold on, there’s more… Make that Robert Gates. Also, they’re telling me that George Bush, Dick Chaney, and Donald Rumsfeld have NEVER been part of the axis of evil. Iran, Iraq, and North Korea are the axis of evil.

 

            Look, axis of evil, shmaxis of evil, I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, George Bush and Dick Chaney scare me a lot more than Iran, Iraq, and North Korea. I know that we should not be trusting Iran, Iraq, and North Korea. In fact, I think we should nuke them as soon as possible and blame it on Russia. George Bush and Dick Chaney, on the other hand, are supposed to be on our side. I’m beginning to wonder about it, though.

 

            So yes, there’s a war going on. As of January 26, 2007, the world has experienced over 3,300 coalition deaths, over 3,000 American deaths, over 23,000 Americans wounded, and between 55,000 and 61,000 Iraqi civilian deaths. We are worse off now than we were when we started the mess. We can debate whether it’s now a civil war all we want. The only thing that will change is the body count. It will continue to rise

 

            So, Mr. Bush wants to send more troops. He said 21,000 more troops. Hold on… my earplug has voices again. Oh, they’re telling me that Gates dude said that they’ll be a lot more than 21,000 before it’s all over. I don’t know where they heard this. Probably from the Internet, so, you know it has to be true. Here’s what I think.

 

            This country has a big problem on its hands. I don’t know why we invaded Iraq. Furthermore, I don’t care at this point. I didn’t think it was a very bright thing to do at the time we did it. But, we did it. The tragedy, however, has been the perpetual fact that Mr. George Bush and his band of merry men have been wrong at every turn since the war’s beginning. They are probably wrong now. As has been the case since the beginning, they cover their butts by blaming all failure: past, present, and future, on the war detractors because they “embolden” the terrorists. Of course, they never mention their own incompentence.

 

            I don’t know what the solution is. I know in my gut, though, that there is a good solution. Somewhere within our Congress—both sides of the isle—there are people with brains and open minds. We need to hear from these people. The media, both print and electronic, needs to stop worrying about ratings and stop pitting one side against another for the sake of controversy.

 

            The last Congress is just as liable for our present war woes as is the White House. The Republicans gave Mr. Bush carte blanche authority to do whatever he wanted. The Democrats just rolled over and played dead. The Republicans paid dearly for it last November during our mid-term elections. However, if the Democrats think that all they have to do is criticize, they’ll have just as rude an awakening in 2008. In fact, the Democrats had better rediscover whatever it is that they stand for and begin standing for it or they can kiss their party goodbye for good.

 

            There’s one more thing. I’ve heard some rather blustery “blood-n-guts” conservatives demean the daylights out of others—bleedin’ heart liberals, I think they call them—for voicing opposition against the war. I’ve always found that the chest-pounding gutsy types are brave as all get out as long as it’s somebody else’s blood.

 

            There are people who oppose this war for no other reason than their hatred for George Bush. This is a mistake. There have been myriad reasons for disliking George Bush long before this war. Others hate it because they hate all wars and think that nothing is worth a war. This is an even bigger mistake because the only rights and freedoms we have are those that we are both willing and able to defend, to the death if necessary. However, I don’t think Iraq qualifies in this respect. Others oppose it because they believe it was a mistake. Hussein the Horrible aside, they simply think it was ill advised to invade at the time and for the reasons given. They’re not traitors. They’re the loyal opposition.

 

            We don’t have to worry about car bombs and IEDs. We go about our days debating the mundane; flicking flyshit out of pepper, as it were. We don’t have to look at a fellow soldier’s eyeballs dangling against the sides of his bloodied, contorted face, or watch some Iraqi parent wailing uncontrollably over the goo that was, just a few seconds ago, a child. No, we’re safe. We can afford to concern ourselves with more important issues: gay marriages, whether Mel Gibson is anti-Semitic, whether Michael Richards is a racist, or how much people pay Paris Hilton to show up at various parties, to name just a few of them.

 

            While we debate WHETHER our troops are in the middle of a civil war, they don’t have the luxury of worrying about it. They have done everything we’ve asked of them to the best of their abilities. With very few exceptions, their performance has been exemplary. Abu Ghraib, and a few other criminal episodes, proves only that a few wackoffs slip through the screening process occasionally, not that our military personnel are social misfits.

 

            Unless war’s ravishes affect us first hand, it tends to be an abstract concept for most of us. Relative to the continental United States, wars have always been “over there.” Our concern for the troops, while genuinely sincere, is more clinical than personal. People who do not have loved ones directly in harm’s way have the luxury of being more philosophical about things. But, people who have loved ones on the front lines, “over there” might just as well be in their back yards. There’s nothing clinical about their concern, either. It’s personal and horrifying. Remember this the next time you hear a grieving soul ranting against a war.

 

            That’s it for now. I’ll be back next week. I’m really concerned over this feud between Rosie and Donald. Don’t even get me started about Paris, either.

 

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Copyright laws apply to all material on this site. Send your comments. Just click here.

Whoa, is it cold or what!

 

By Joseph Walther

 

First, I’m tellin’ ya; it’s been colder ‘n a witch’s ti… I mean, it’s been quite cold the past few days in these parts. If I hear, “so much for global warming,” one more time, I’m going to climb a tower and start shooting people. As soon as it warms up a bit, that is.

 

            Many years ago, we couldn’t turn to a TV channel without hearing, “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature.” A supposedly distraught and angry Mother Nature waved her arms, and POOF! All sorts of comical things happened to us lowly earthlings because some of us unknowingly switched from butter to Chiffon Margarine.

 

            Chiffon Margarine used this tag line to convince us to buy its margarine many years ago. Like most TV commercials, both then and now, I thought it was stupid. Besides, I refused to eat margarine of any brand—and I still do. It tastes awful. I’d rather have someone stick an umbrella up my butt and open it, than eat margarine! Apparently, millions of others disagree. Just remember, though! Statistics repeatedly show that such people don’t have umbrellas.

 

            Regardless, media commercials that use a “God” or “Mother Nature” theme to sell products tend to prove a few things to me. First, humans, in general, know precious little about Nature. Second, they know even less about God. Pat Robertson proved this when he claimed to have prayed a hurricane away from his Florida digs. Third, Mother Nature does not get mad. She simply gets even. And, if we humans keep up the mental masturbation over global warming, we’ll find out how.

 

            Legitimate scientists are not debating the occurrence of global warming. In fact, people, most with 3-digit IQs, no longer deny global warming. Furthermore, I don’t hear many people still denying that humans contribute to it. While global warming is cyclical, over ions, twentieth-century humans have accelerated its affects to some degree. How much humans contribute seems to be the issue now. I find this refreshing, but—and this is purely my opinion—the degree of human contribution is not as critical as the rate at which it’s accelerating the affects.

 

            Hurricanes seem more frequent and violent than in the past. Small temperature increases shift the hurricane strength scale to the right by 1 to 1.5 points. In other words, category one-force hurricanes become category two or two and a half as the result of warmer water. Worse, a storm’s exposure time to warm water increases its strength transition considerably. It may take 3-days from a tropical depression to a category one hurricane, but only a day and a half from category one to category two, and as little as eight hours from category two to category three, and so on.

 

            Global warming. Yes, it’s not nice to fool Mother Nature. Only this isn’t about some stupid margarine and her anger is real. There is nothing comical about the consequences, either. And we haven’t seen ANYTHING yet!

 

            As do others, I believe global warming is a naturally occurring phenomenon and that we’re probably in a warming cycle. But, how much of it is nature and how much of it is us? It’s important for us to know this. Even more important is how quickly we’re accelerating it and at what point we’ll reach the point of irreversibility. Since the 1900s, industrialized humans (not just Americans), have contributed to the problem.

 

            As we turned into the twentieth century, 1900-1909 here in the United States, we experienced the dawn of air-conditioning and refrigeration. It took centuries to arrive. But, once we did, it only took a few decades to arrive at the dawn of aerosol convenience and profitability. We developed antiperspirants so we don’t offend, hairsprays so we don’t look crazy or stupid or both crazy and stupid, Pam non-stick spray-on so we don’t screw up the eggs, etc. Before this, of course, we entered the dawn of carbon-based fuels in order to improve the means of getting our butts from point A to point B. The list is seemingly endless.

 

            Remember, too, that profitability was not exactly a secondary motivator throughout all of this dawning. In case you’re not aware of it, compound interest and profit motivation have always been the differentiators between communism and us. Here you thought it was democracy, didn’t you?

 

            The point is that, prior to this time, our contribution to global warming was not a whole lot. Once started, though, it has increased, seemingly, at an exponential clip. When we began our contribution, we were clueless relative to environmental impact. We didn’t mean to get ourselves into our current predicament. But, it always happens when our technological genius is operating on only half of its cylinders. In other words, we had the intellectual means for cooling our butts off and stopping our underarms from stinking, but other than Carl Sagan and Stephan Hawking, we didn’t know nothin’ about no stinkin’ ozone layer.

 

            Well, we don’t have that excuse any more. For many people, situational science is a great thing. It doesn’t complicate or shatter reality with facts. But, if we want to survive as a species, we’d better stop relying on it because it makes us think that we’re an even match for Mother Nature.

 

            We’re not going back to smelly underarms or anything like that because we don’t have to. We do need to stop all of the silly arguing over causes, though. The worst-case proponents have us about ten years from the point of irreversibility. The best-case proponents put it about a century out. Reality is somewhere between these two points. Arguing over how much is Mother Nature’s fault and how much is ours is plain stupid, much like blaming asthma on breathing.

 

            No matter what people say, we’re not going to destroy this planet. People who say we’ll do so are both arrogant and stupid. We may cause our own extinction, and Pat Robertson, in spite of his claims, will not be able to pray it away. But, once we’re out of the picture, nature will rejuvenate the place. Baring some random cosmic force, though, life in various other forms will go on for a few billion more years. And, I’ll bet that the cockroaches in the Middle East will still be at war with the cockroaches in the West.

 

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Copyright laws apply to all material on this site. Send your comments. Just click here.

Whadda Jerk! Or, maybe not.

 

By Joseph Walther

 

“You get twice as much at Pat’s and you only pay about a dollar twenty five more,” she told him in a chiding sort of tone. Without looking up from his plate of spaghetti, he growled, “F*!K you.” Shrugging, she picked up her slice of pizza and took a small bite. “Honestly, Rudolph, I was just kidding,” she replied, flashing a gorgeous smile his way. Again, without so much as a glance in her direction, he said, “Bite me, Marie.” At that, she glanced away and went back to eating her slice of pizza.

 

            I’m not a word snob. I don’t think that there is any such thing as a “bad” word in the absolute sense. However, I believe that certain words are appropriate-sensitive AND, I will not use certain words because I don’t like them. Rudolph’s choice of words struck me as situationally inappropriate. Unfortunately, at least in my mind, they seem to have become typical for public gatherings of the youth-filled age group: mid-teens to mid-twenties. So, why did Rudolph’s language shock me?

 

            Before revealing this, I want you to know that the contrast between these two people was striking. He was inconsiderately loud. He was sloppily dressed and his mannerisms were gruff. He didn’t seem to care that other people could hear his language or that it might embarrass Marie, seated across from him. Marie, on the other hand was soft-spoken, conscientiously thoughtful, impeccably dressed, and linguistically refined. The fact that they were together blew me right out of my socks!

 

            The genuine shocker was the fact that Rudolph was not a young person. He looked to be a charter member of the late 50s to early 60s set. He wore rumpled and dirty clothes. I wouldn’t consider him fat, but “pudgy” certainly fit. He was unshaven, too. You know how some guys have that “Screw it, I’ll shave tomorrow” look? Well, Rudolph looked as though he’d been saying it for several days. He was around five-feet, six-inches tall AND bald, with the exception of about a ten-strand comb over that he managed to gather from a sparse distribution of scraggily gray hair on the sides of his head. Stupid seems so inadequate to describe how it looked, especially the way he parted his hair, about an eighth of an inch above his ear top.

 

            Marie seemed younger, but not by much. She was esthetically pretty. She had a fantastic atmosphere of emotional maturity about her. It lent an air of sophistication to her mannerisms that made her very attractive. She wore beige slacks and a black, ribbed turtleneck sweater, neither of which fit too tightly. Her hair was about mid-neck in length and not a strand out of place. She wore little, if any, make-up. She didn’t need any. She had a beautiful smile. Most men, me included, would consider it an honor just to sit next to her.

 

            I don’t know why, but she seemed to care deeply about Rudolph. No matter how gruff he was toward her, she smiled, sometimes laughing, as she’d reach across and touch his shoulder. I don’t think he said more fifty words to her. When he did speak to her, he used a lot of profanity. Even more troubling to me was his seemingly limited stash of profane words. However, what he lacked in term multiplicity, he made up for in term repetition. In all, this coupling embodied the classic assertion that opposites attract.

 

            I’ve found that women, in general, seem unjustifiably critical of themselves, particularly with respect to certain physical attributes, um… shall we say, both north and south of their personal equators. Something is always either too big or too small. They spend hours picking out the “right” outfit. They spend even longer periods making sure that their make-up and hair are perfect. And still, they’ll be critical about what they see in themselves. As Dave Barry wrote a few years ago, “When a woman looks into a mirror, she sees Chewbacca staring back at her, no matter how attractive she actually is.”

 

            Not so with more than a few males. Such men have an amazing ability to fantasize themselves right into GQ magazine, no matter what they look like. They can be complete slobs: short, pot bellied, bald, and inarticulate, with wardrobes limited to stained, hole-infested tee shirts and filthy, polyester slacks. Most of the time the only missing accessories are a shopping cart filled with assorted empty aluminum cans and an empty gin bottle.

 

            I know guys just like this! And, in no way am I referring to Ted Fincher who works for Ralph’s Auto Parts in Millsboro. Such men, while gazing into a mirror, will comb their three remaining lusterless strands of hair across their greasy bald spots, smile reassuringly, and mumble to themselves, “Yeah, you da man!” No matter how hopelessly out of shape, they figure they’re never more than a couple of push-ups away from a naked hot tub rendezvous with Lulu Luscious!

 

            Anyway, back to Rudolph and Marie. As I was about to stand up and leave, another couple approached their table. They were around the same age. Marie greeted them by their names: Jack and Gladys. Jack asked Rudolph, “How’s the research going, your honor?” Rudolph replied, “It’s going great, but not so loud, Jack. You could ruin the whole day’s data collection.”

 

            Have you ever experienced a divine revelation? Duh! Try as I did, I could not stifle my laugh. Marie looked over at me and laughed back. Rudolph began to laugh, too. I had to admit to both of them what I’d been thinking the past 30-minutes or so. It seemed that, in the midst of my own research for column material, I had become research fodder for someone else’s project. Touché!

 

            We introduced ourselves. I told them about this column. “Are you going to use us?” Rudolph asked. “Are you going to use me?” I asked in return. “Maybe,” he said. I then asked them if they’d mind me using them in view of what I just found out about his research project. They said OK, but made me promise not to use full names or locales. I agreed and gave them a business card with my web location.

 

            We talked for another hour before they had to leave. Rudolph is a legitimate superior court judge. He’s located in another state, which will remain anonymous. For the past year, he’s been researching material for an upcoming book. I promised that I would not give any details. He also made me promise that I would not shorten his name to Rudy. He explained that while he’s never forgiven his parents for “laying” that moniker on him, it’s gotten him a lot of valuable mileage.

 

            Perhaps opposites do attract each other. However, not all of them do. These two prove it. And, for Marie’s sake, I’m tickled pink. She’s way too nice for the person I initially thought Rudolph was. Had my first impression of him been accurate, doubtless she would have eventually seen him as the hangnail of her life and bitten him off.

 

            I’ll be back next week. I’ve been doing quite a bit of research myself. Stay tuned, same time, same channel.

 

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Copyright laws apply to all material on this site. Send your comments. Just click here.

You feigned WHAT?!

 

By Joseph Walther

 

“Oh my Gawd! We’re all gonna get kilt.” This is exactly what he said and he seemed genuinely concerned about it, too. Not that glaze-eyed, call the loony bin nuts sort of concern, but rather a tad expressively distraught, but sincere type of concern. I think the people sitting around him wanted to ask about it, but, hey, why get involved.

 

            He didn’t say it in an alarming, frantic way. He had finished reading a newspaper article. As he placed it on top of his well-worn bible, he just sort of uttered it in a matter of fact way. But, it was just loud enough for others to hear him.

 

            No one has ever accused me of being shy, and smelling a potential column, I couldn’t resist a chance to interview the man. So, with pizza slice in hand, I moved over towards his table, introduced myself, and asked him to tell me about it. As I sat down, he extended his hand to shake mine and said, “I’m Duane Washington.” As I shook hands with him, I said, “I’m Joe Walther and I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Washington.”

 

            He told me to call him Duane. I told him to call me Joe. He said he was a minister. I didn’t ask for specifics. He struck me as a genuine, sincere, bible carrying, come-to-Jesus fire-‘n-brimstoner, whose flock is wherever he happens to be, at the moment. And, where he happened to be was Mamma Gina’s Pizza Parlor at the New Castle Farmers Market just south of Wilmington, Delaware.

 

            My regular readers know that I partake of my share of Mamma Gina’s pizza. It’s good stuff. They’ll also recall several columns that I wrote about Earl Swiggmon. Earl, unlike Reverend Washington, is not what you’d call a monument to wisdom. Duane Washington, on the other hand, seemed quite affable and definitely in possession of a 3-digit IQ. Also, Earl, they’ll recall, does not trust Republicans and blames every human social evil, EVER, on George Bush.

 

            I’ll be writing more columns about Earl later. Unfortunately, he’s in a world of hurt right now because he’s in jail. Bush’s fault, no doubt!

 

            “How do you know that someone or something is going to kill all of us?” I asked. “Have you ever heard of the 700-Club?” he asked in return. My immediate thought was, “Uh oh, God’s been talking to Pat Robertson again.” Digging deep within my vault of self-restraint, I stifled a laugh. Instead, I explained that I had heard of it and also about Pat Robertson. “What did Pat say?’ I asked. He handed me an Associated Press printout dated January 3, 2007. It was a short blurb quoting some things Rev. Pat had said. You may wish to make some notes and prepare accordingly.

 

            Paraphrasing a bit, the article related that Pat Robertson had said that God told him terrorists would strike the United States in late 2007, resulting in “mass killing.” Continuing, the article quoted him as saying, “I’m not necessarily saying it’s going to be nuclear.” The quote went on, “The Lord didn’t say nuclear. But I do believe it will be something like that.” Oh, the article also quoted Robertson as saying that God told him the “U. S. only feigns friendship with Israel and that U. S. policies are pushing Israel toward ‘national suicide.’”

 

            “Wow,” I said, shaking my head and sliding the article back towards him. “Do you know what really scares me about that article, Duane?” Before he could answer, I said, “It’s not WHAT Robertson said, it’s the facts that one, the Associated Press gave this cretin a measure of credibility by printing it and, two, that YOU, Duane, seem concerned about it; you may even believe it.” He told me, “The thought of additional attacks here in the United States has crossed my mind a few times. It’s a possibility. You have to admit that much.”

 

            First, I don’t think that God, if He wanted to speak to the human race, would do it through a self-aggrandizing twit like Pat Robertson. Sometimes I flip through the TV channels late at night looking for intelligent life. Inevitably, his squinty-eyed face flashes before me. Two things happen immediately. First, I think of how consistently he misses golden opportunities simply to shut the hell up. Second, my gag reflex kicks in, and I change channels as quickly as I can before I throw up.

 

            Of course there’s a possibility for more attacks inside the United States. So what? That possibility has always existed. I’m not going to let it govern my life, though. In spite of what the current administration tells us, terror is a tactic. I’m not sure how we overcome it. Trying to impose our way on the rest of the world, won’t do it. Every civilization that’s tried it, ultimately failed. History is replete with examples.

 

            But, I digress. Back to my point. I don’t believe God spoke to Pat Robertson, this time or ever. I just can’t picture God using a word like feign. School board members use it. Educational administrators, at all levels, use it. Intellectuals LOVE to use it. But God, NEVER! You know why? Because regular people never use it. They use words like fake or phony, or pretend, or make believe. Regular people outnumber the others by a margin of, at least, 10,000 to 1. So, if God wanted to make a point, He’d use regular words.

 

            So, feign is THE dead give away. I mean, think about it. How many wives or girl friends get mad at their significant other and say, “Oh yeah, dippy, well, I’ve been feigning my orgasms for years.” It sounds so phony. Downright stupid, in fact. No! They would use the word faking. They’d use faking because every man knows what faking means, especially in this context. The male reaction is instant and devastating, manhood wise, if you get my drift.

 

            I am going to receive a lot of hate email by saying this, but I don’t care. Someone has to say it. Pat Robertson proves, every time he opens his mouth, that sincerity and stupidity are mutually exclusive. Regular people have been talking to God since the beginning of time. There’s nothing wrong with it. However, when regular people admit to hearing God talking back, others look at them as if they’re nuts. Sometimes, they even end up in padded rooms, using blunt edged scissors to make rags.

 

            The media—print and electronic—prove that they’ll report anything for ratings every time they quote people like Robertson. And, the fact that ratings go up as a result of this, proves the diminishing collective IQ of the human race. Perhaps George Carlin is correct and we’re already circling the drain of extinction.

 

            Listen up. God granted MEN the ability and thrill of competing in pissing contests because he gave them the facility to pee standing upright. He did this at Adam’s insistence. That’s right. Adam, a MAN, was that tight with God that he was able to ensure that future generations of men would always be able to enjoy the thrill of seeing who could shoot a pee stream the greatest distance. Yep, you women lost that one. You had to settle for being able to experience multiple orgasms. Trust me! A God like this is not going to go around using words like feign! And, you women! Let this be a lesson. Don’t even try to challenge us men when it comes to being in tight with God.

 

Have a great week. Check in next week, same channel, day, and time.

 

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Copyright laws apply to all material on this site. Send your comments. Just click here.