Sunday, January 17, 2010

Robbery by one class of another

If a group of thugs cornered you, or the people on
your street, or city, or country, and stripped you
of your wallet, cash, jewelry, car, bank accounts and more
(You get the picture?) and told you "Get used to it".. for the
next year, or five or ten or more years. Or if they said, "There
is nothing that we can do. We'll do our bit too, but you must do
without a lot to help US all get better financially, or things will
get really, really bad".

What would you do?

Would you roll over and play dead?

Would you say "there's nothing we can do?"

Or, "okay." And, would you tell your children "we
have NO other choice...but your children or grandchildren
may have it a bit better if we do as these men say"?

And what if these men went on regular holidays, had big
expense accounts, and their families didn't have to suffer like
everyone else?

would you still roll over and play dead?

At what point would you say "No"?...and teach your children
a lesson in how to deal with thieves and other parasites and

If you haven't noticed it's happening in Ireland, Iceland, The
USA...and many places...except that the thieves wear suits and
ties, and carry briefcases. Oh, and politicians in the back of their
pocket to enforce this crime(s).

I have a different view than many people. I was in Vietnam-
Marines...a rifleman...a 'grunt', or a bullet stopper. I've had
people try to rob me. I've had a gun to my head, balls (same
man). I disarmed him, and let him feel what a gun to his head
felt like. It felt good to me.

I've had a knife to my ribs. Disarmed. There is more.
To me, what is happening in Ireland and elsewhere is robbery
with a brief case. But, to me it is still robbery!

It is what has happened across time and history; one group
oppressing another group and living off of them. They are
parasites. We had parasites in Vietnam; they were called
leeches. They live off others...I took them off me and squished

In life they are, to me, politicians, banking families, developers
(in Ireland), and more.

As a society, we must reject what they say, and are trying to
implement, and tell ourselves that it would be better to take
them all and put them on a small island...Like the Isle of Man?
Give them their bad bank notes etc...and say good bye. Don't
leave or else!

But, first they must be tried, and punished for their crimes.
They should rehabilitated if possible (not much of a chance).
Why? Because they are thieves, and destroy families, homes,
communities...and countries.

People have a choice. When foreigner occuppiers are tossed out
of a domestic ones arise for control.

My second summer in Ireland (Cork), I was sitting at a cafe
in Carey's lane with my then wife, when I saw a fella (about 40-
50ish) looking at me. I thought, 'Oh god, he sees a yank, and wants
to have a a few words. He had come out of a pub next to Fellini Cafe
(where we were),and was lubricated a bit.

He started to tell me about famous Irish-Americans and how they had
contributed to America (I have three Irish grandparents), and at some
point he asked me if I knew what contributions the Irish have made to

I was waiting for that one. I said, 'Yes, political corruption (Tammany
Hall, Mayor Curley (I'm from Boston:-)...Mayor Daily...ward bosses..
'no-show al. I was just messin a bit.

He was a nice man; a teacher from West Cork, and he raised his hand
to make a point, but after I rattled off a few things he dropped his hand.
His head went down, then up and he laughed and said...'You got
me on that'...and then we had a good chat.

Politicians work for the wealthy, and when our country is being robbed,
sacked and pillaged...we must stop it by putting millions of bodies in
the streets. But, we must not let this go on.

He then asked

"Banking was conceived in iniquity and was born in sin. The Bankers own the earth. Take it away from them, but leave them the power to create deposits, and with the flick of the pen they will create enough deposits to buy it back again. However, take it away from them, and all the great fortunes like mine will disappear and they ought to disappear, for this would be a happier and better world to live in. But, if you wish to remain the slaves of Bankers and pay the cost of your own slavery, let them continue to create deposits." : Sir Josiah Stamp (1880-1941) President of the Bank of England in the 1920's, the second richest man in Britain

“I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies. If the people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around [the banks] will deprive the people of all property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered. The issuing power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to whom it properly belongs.”

"I hate banks. They do nothing positive for anybody except take care of themselves. They're first in with their fees and first out when there's trouble." - Earl Warren (American Republican Politician and Judge, 1891-1974)

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The Girl I Met On Christmas Day 1968- DaNang

Tues. 26, January 2010

My first time to Vietnam I landed in Da Nang early on Christmas morning
1968 at about 2-3am. Later, I would fly north to Dong Ha, and hitch a ride
to Quang Tri to join the 3rd Marines.

As we had time to spare we were taken into a militarized part of Da Nang.
We were warned to be careful of begging children, and that they could be
thieves and may use razor blades to cut our pockets. We soon came upon a
group of 20-30 such children.. I had some sweets and money to give. Most
were under 10...small.

I gave sweets, mostly, whilst I looked the crowd over for thieves. But, they
just seemed like nice kids. It felt good to meet, chat, joke and to give to these
children. But, I felt bad that they were begging. Why? I thought that we were
here to help them? And, why is this happening on Christmas day? And why
aren't we (the military) feeding them? My first awakening that things weren't

Some children had missing limbs. Some had scars, and some had shrapnel
wounds. I felt bad; very bad. Most, most were okay. But, this is what this hard
and tough marine, so eager for combat saw on his first day in VietNam. My only
thoughts were of killing people, and winning medals for heroism. I had not
thought of, nor imagined that I would be seeing child victims of war...our war.

I was naive and innocent. War destroys your innocence first. And yet, these
children were friendly, chatting and smiling. Save one.

I felt someone's presence at the back of the group...a couple or more steps behind
the if she was separate from the group. I could feel that she was looking
at me, and when I looked at her, I saw a lovely girl of between 11-13. She was
looking into my eyes, softly, and for a bit, then she lowered (bowed) her head.
But, by then she had torn my heart out.

She did not hold her hand out like the others. I think that she felt different...not
as young or cute as the smaller ones? And, marred. I saw pain and hurt in her,
and I felt pain, hurt and agony for her in my heart and soul.

She raised her head again and looked into my eyes for a few moments. I had
been frozen in place. But, as she lowered her head again I was wading through
the middle of the group of children until I stood in front of her.

She lifted her head, and we looked at each other for a long moment. I nodded to
her and she to me. Then, I took her right hand (shy) and put all the money I could
get (mostly, if not all coins) into her hand quietly, and covered it with
hide from the other children. I made gestures and nods to that effect. She understood
and nodded. I understood, then, how cruel war is.

Then, we looked at (and into) each other for a long, long moment. It was a very
poignant and meaningful moment in time and space that is forever etched across,
and in my mind, heart and soul. Though, she was alone and apart from the group...
I came to her only. And, I have often wondered why she was looking at me.

You see, this beautiful Vietnamese girl had no right eye, nor even a patch.
She only had basic treatment...she did not wear an American uniform! She
may not have felt beautiful, but she truly was. Her eye was so beautiful and was her soul was and is. (Da Nang had no eye hospital until 1998).

She may have appreciated what little I gave her (I don't remember how much I
had or gave), but it felt completely inadequate to me. I felt bad that my $ bills 
were in my boots (to protect from child and other thieves that I had been warned
about). And, I felt worse when I thought about how much money I spent getting
drunk in Okinawa, and to see a prostitute for my first time with a woman just days
before. I didn't care if I had any money left after seeing her.

She took my heart and soul and humanized me in an instant. As we looked into
each other she melted my hardness, toughness and brought tears to my eyes, and
agony to my heart and soul. Without speaking a word she showed me what war is
and does to people, especially children. And, I would never, ever be the same again.

I felt awful leaving her. I would have food, water, and medical care if wounded.
But she and the others? It hit me like a ton of bricks that our (America's) war did
this to her. She may have been marred, but I saw the whole her-a beautiful human
being and soul. She has been with me ever since, and I have wept many, many times
whenever I have thought of her.

I believe that our meeting was not by chance, nor a coincidence, and I have always
wondered what became of her. And, I have never forgotten her. And, I weep for
her before, and on Christmas day, and after.

War is horrible and criminal. It makes super profits ''for the few'' at the expense
of ones like her and I.

But, she is 'The Girl I Met On Christmas Day 1968- Da Nang.'

It is those things-what happens to children, old people, and (especially
young girls and women), homes, families, villes, cultures, societies, and
also, to other Marines blown to bits, maimed, traumatized for a medal that
hurts and causes pain most every day of my life.

Those of us who survived had to fight our own government as veterans for
recognition that their wounds/conditions merited treatment. But,the children
of Vietnam Afghanistan, Iraq (or Fallujah, where the U. S. waged chemical
warfare against the civilian population, and now their children have a higher
rate of congenital birth anomalies that Hiroshima after the bomb was dropped),
or any country America wages war upon...the children have to fend for theirselves.

War is a criminal enterprise! Or, as Major-General Smedley D. Butler said,
'War is a Racket'.

Friday, January 1, 2010

A true story: don't get sniped whilst playing with your tool;-)

This is a true, but somewhat tongue-in cheek,
story. Whilst I did draw sniper fire as the
platoon Sgt's radioman (as did many other
people), but some jobs more than others:-).

But, there was one occasion where I
wasn't carrying the radio, and could
have been sniped at, and decided that if
I were...I didn't want to be found in an
embarrassing position:-)

I was at FSB (Fire Support Base) Charlie II
-our home base, and had to relieve another
man...(let's call him avoid embarrassment)
from his shift of guard duty-perimeter watch
(2-4 hours-I'm not sure).

Jackson, was another good man from 2nd platoon,
and possibly my team leader at the time. He was
the grenadier-'Blooper' man; he carried the blooper-
M-79 grenade launcher...and was excellent at it(I
wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of
his fire) On this day Jackson was taking me to relieve
B of his shift.

As we got nearer to the bunker Jackson noticed that B
wasn't on top or around the bunker; he wasn't visible.
Jackson got pissed when he realized that B might be
'copping some ZZZ (sleep). It's a major NO-NO in war,
but it happens. I learned how to sleep with my eyes
open;-) But, shit the snoring kind of gives you away;-)
I was never caught...and to scared to sleep.

( an aside: I was in an Amsterdam coffee shop after an exam,
and I closed my eyes for a bit. I was just trying to
remember my answer to one question when the
bouncer, Pete, tapped my shoulder and said to wake
up, or no sleeping. He was just checking to see...

I told him that I learned to sleep with my eyes
open in Vietnam, so he better check me even if my
eyes are open;-) )

But, as we got close to the bunker, Jackson and then I
heard heavy breathing. There are no women there, but
loads of porn magazines of all types...Swedish etc. So, you
get my drift? B was just taking care of his needs, or releasing
stress, if that sounds better;-) He had more time in the Nam
than both of us combined.

Jackson whispered what we'd do. As we came to the top
of the hill we got up and ran towards the bunker door with
our rifles, and we screamed 'Gooks' several times, or such.

What we saw was a man trying to finish what he was doing,
whilst at the same time trying to put his pecker back into his
pants like it never happened, and we never saw it...AND grab
his rifle and respond to the threat he just heard...from us.

After they left...and Jackson probably warned me about
sleeping and... I decided to sit on top of the bunker. It was a
beautiful day. And, being me...I tried to think of what B
did wrong...(I did the same in criminal law class. Whilst the
professor was explaining what part of the law was violated
in a criminal act, and why; I would always be thinking...the
guy, or woman was stupid. He/she should have done this or

So, as I was sitting there atop the bunker it came to me. I said to
myself B should have done it right here on top of the bunker...
that way there be no suspicion because he would be visible, and if
done right no one would see.

And, then, I saw what the end of that scenario could be, and put
that idea out of my head.

I pictured myself being found laying on my side. A snipers bullet
through my skull, my dick in my right hand, and a porn magazine
in my left hand with blood all over the place...and giving everyone
a big laugh.

So, I just enjoyed the nice day;-)