Marine on Liberty Dies in Gunbattle With Police (you gotta read this - click here for article details)

Knowledge becomes a problem, when what's learnt becomes a barrier to learning something new. - Adeon

A sound byte from the Advertising Campaign for the United Negro College Fund contends: A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste.

What are we doing to our young military men and women who get insights without borders, then come back home and are expected to leave these horrifying insights, their post traumatic stress and existential crises at the shoreline so they can become PC?

G.W. [Bush]. Get frickin real! You girly man. Why don't you get your beltline bandits and your handlers to arrange another photo op where you can throw on your flight jacket and make another tailhook landing on another aircraft carrier to tell us all How Well WE Are Winning The War.

Or better yet . . . why don't you do what Jane Byrne (former Mayor of Chicago) did--take up residence in Cabrini Green, one of Chicago's most "notorious" housing developments, infamous for poverty, gangs, drugs, and violence during her astounding publicity stunt to protest the violence of the time? Meanwhile, like your flyboy stunt, other projects in the city were just as distressed, but they weren't as lucky to have the mayor as their neighbor. Why?

Hey . . . G.W. why don't you take up residence in Baghdad, better yet, the province of Babil (the so-called Triangle of Death) as your astounding publicity stunt to protest the violence of the time?

Then instead of your bullshit patriotic anecdotal sound bytes and your faith based rhetoric circle jerks (especially those with Rumsfeld) can be substituted with your first hand account of what you see, hear, and feel when you communally live with Iraqi families, especially women and children in the Triangle of Death.

Or even better. Why don't you get off your prissy arse in the Oval Office, and go into combat in an inadequately armored Humvee, or fly a sortie, or if you feel like it a number of them. Knock yourself out. You sir, don't walk the talk.

G.W. Get a frickin life. I am so sick and tired of you telling me from your polls and pundits You Know What The American People Think, Feel, and Want!

When's the last time you walked your trash bags down to the end of the driveway, or stuck your hand down into the garbage disposal to get shit stuck in it?

Oh . . . I forgot. You know how to chop wood on your ranch. And I suppose you also hook-up with your senior exec buddies, fly around in a chopper shooting down buffalo on private ranches in Montana, so y'all can hang the heads on your office walls.

Yeah right, what ever dude. Let's all stand up and say the Pledge of Allegiance to your war trophies!

Welcome

On The Road To Insight Without Borders

Similarly to Carl Rogers' metaphor about one's fantasy of feeling like a prisoner in a dungeon yearning for others to truly hear our private personal meanings, I believe this blog is my venue where I willl tap out my Morse code message, "Does anyone hear me? Is anyone there?" And as Rogers asserts when we hear faint tappings that spell out "Yes"

By that one simple response he is released from his loneliness; he has become a human being again. There are many, many people living in private dungeons today, people who give no evidence of it whatsoever on the outside, where you have to listen very sharply to hear the faint messages from the dungeon.

My Once and Future King

OK . . . Come on girls. Y'all calm down! I know, and he knows, he's a hotty. Don't think for a New York minute I'm gonna let him out of my sight. Y'all are gonna have to get in line . . . while you do get your references ready to go.