Gott Mit Uns

Gott Mit Uns?

Yup. Guilty as sin.

Watchdog: Keeping hawks and doves in line

Hawks and "Ragheads"

Army recruiters are signing up mental patients in Ohio, over in Colorado they´re coaching kids how to cheat on the military entrance exam and how to get rid of dope traces before drug tests. Oberfeldmarschall Myers just signed a report that basically concedes victory to a bunch of half starved "Third World insurgents" and urges Congress to shovel more money his way.

I just walked past Albertson´s in Orcutt, where a bunch of birds are nesting in the trees between the shopping center and a retirement home. A hawk circled golden in the morning sunlight, easily, lazily, as if out for a nice flight before breakfast. Gradually, he tightened his circles, reined in his range, concentrated on something beneath his wings.

Suddenly, up came a small bird, an insignificant bird, one without all the ruffly feathers glowing in the sun, without the arrogant, downward poised beak, without the might and power and glory that are the birthright of God´s Own. He had nothing, that bird, no beauty and no size, but he was pissed. Totally. He aimed his little IED-body right at that hawk, let out a feeble screech and attacked. The hawk paused, seemed surprised, and then took flight. The hawk fled, and the little dark bird, incapable of harming a huge hawk like the one in his sights, attacked relentlessly, could not keep up with the fleeing hawk but tried to intercept it in its flight, seemed as though he knew where the hawk would go in his haste to get away from the scrappy little guy, and zoomed in.

The hawk finally rid himself of the pesky midget. He did that by simply retreating faster than his enemy could follow.

It reminded me of Saigon in April of 1973, and it was a portent of Iraq next year, or the year after, or whenever the hubris finds an end.

I´ll make any bet the hawk tells all his hawk buddies back at the nest how he won his battle with the overwhelming power of small, dark attackers. And how the sky above Albertson´s market in Orcutt is now free and democratic.

Promille

Gut voll? 1,25 Promille, morgens um sieben? Wow, Peter. Stramme Leistung.

Aus der Los Angeles Times.........

Hyping his Social Security privatization plan, President Bush stated, "It just makes sense for people to watch things grow." True. These last four years, I have seen the dollar grow from 83 U.S. cents for one euro to $1.33 for that same euro. That's an increase in value of more than 60% — for the euro.

Peter J. Kraus

Die Amiversion vom Kopf im Sand ist "having your head up your ass". Mr. Bush looking for the vanished value of the Dollar. On his watch? On his watch.

......in Southern California. Oh, yeah!

It never rains.......

handy man

Homo habilis means "handy man"

Let Freedom Ring........................

From today´s article "Why Graft Thrives in Postconflict Zones" by Mark Rice-Oxley in The Christian Science Monitor: And earlier this week, it emerged that the Pentagon's auditing agency found that Halliburton, the Houston oil services giant formerly run by Vice President Dick Cheney, overcharged by more than $108 million on a contract.
A Halliburton subsidiary, Kellogg, Brown and Root, faces a number of investigations for overcharging, including one case where it charged the Army more than $27 million dollars to transport $82,000 worth of fuel from Kuwait to Iraq, according to excerpts of the report released this week by Rep. Henry Waxman (D) of California.
In a written statement. Halliburton defended the cost, explaining that delivering the fuel was "fraught with danger."

Too Much

Brothers in Arms: Nina at 50, The Pill against Too Much

Nina Hagen (African Reggae, Knockin on Hermann´s Door) und die Pille

Junge, junge, Jesus. Fünzig, die Nina, wa? Leck-Mich-Am-Arsch. Dabei war es wie vorgestern, als wir an der Theke der Dorfdisco standen, draußen stürmte der Schwarzwalddezember, drinnen dröhnte Nina und die Herrschaften benahmen sich wie die deutsche Horde am kalten Buffet, nur daß es statt Kaviar und Leberschnittchen Amphetamine, PCP ("neues Ding aus Amerika, Alter. Ne Prise, und du fliegst") und das gute alte Weißbrot der westdeutschen Drogenkultur der späten Siebziger, Roten Libanesen, gab. Nebst Bier, natürlich, in rauhen Mengen, und dem gelegentlichen Schnäpschen.

Ich flog wirklich. Aber nur einmal. Ich lerne schnell. Und gründlich.

Die heute gute Pille ist die oben abgebildete. Fuckitol, in aller Munde derzeit. Amerikaner jeden Alters führen sie stets bei sich, zu ihr greift man wenn der Cowboy in den Abendnachrichten auftaucht und wenn seine Totschlägerriege, allen voran dieses abschreckende Beispiel deutscher Herkunft Rumsfeld, im Gleichschritt über die Bürgerrechte trampelt. Dann wird der Ruf "Ahh, Fuckitol" laut.

So weit ist es mit uns schon gekommen. Wir haben die Initiative aus der Hand gegeben, haben resigniert. Fuckitol.

Würde Nina nie machen. Die kämpft, auch auf verlorenem Posten, auch gegen übermächtige Gegner, auch unter unmöglichen Bedingungen.

Deshalb fordere ich:"Nina for President!"

Fuckitol. Happy Birthday, Mrs. Präsidentschaftswunschkandidatin.