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05/30/2008
A tale of the times
I take Rose's advice,
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Once upon a time there was a first son born to a first family. He was a wretched boy; petulant, dishonest, he loved to torture small animals. Someday he would have the world in his back pocket and he knew it.
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A lot of people liked his dad because his dad helped bury inconvenient truths and crimes, keeping the rich and powerful safe at night. His mother was a very mean, sharp tongued woman and because number one son did not dare cross her he projected his weakness and cowardice on his father. Once, he even challenged his father to go mano a mano with him during a drunken rage.
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He wasn't a particularly bright Prince, but he had a knack for cult politics and under the tutelage of a very strange, evil minister named Rove, learned to use intimidation, threats and retribution skillfully. Then, one day, the Supreme Court had him crowned King of the United States.
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Although he had stopped drinking years before, he never conquered his addiction. Alcohol cravings were replaced by, other, more deadly cravings: power, money and military supremacy. Freud would say that thousands have died and millions are suffering as a result of number one's rather small penis.
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The country was lulled into a hypnotic sleep by disembodied voices. The ones that did not fall under its evil trance were demonized by the voices. Men with hairy, thick, tattoo laden forearms rode huge two wheeled machines and took names like Rolling Thunder, the Capitol Police and Blackwater Security in order to become enforcers of the new world order.
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Nowhere was it safe, not at home, work or just attending a casual protest. The King stacked every deck: the courts, the governorships, and the media to name a few. A country that had previously held only minority political prisoners, now locked up white men and women. It was impolite to suggest that a class war was underway. People were afraid and their own fear increased their vulnerability.
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Man-made wars and upheavals competed with earthquakes and typhoons. The once raucous but fabled city of New Orleans was sacrificed to the money Gods. Everywhere people felt abandoned.
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In the darkest hours, the last hours, from amongst the tired, the poor, the huddled masses a black prophet arose, yearning to set them free ...
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To be continued ... Gene
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