When I hear end-of-the-world ranting and raving about entitlements in this country and what harm they do to us I can't agree more with that assessment! Entitlements most certainly play a huge role in our demise and when I hear impassioned speeches how they must end or we'll all sink I know I'm hearing the voices of true conviction and clarity. And that makes perfect sense. After all, who knows more about the sin than the sinner committing it?
Let's take a quick review of a few of America's laundry list of entitlements:
So when I hear outrage about entitlements, I'm right there with you, brother! This shit gotta end! These people are going to bleed us dry. Hell we're almost already there! There's obviously some bad actors among us wielding the vast majority of power who feel no sense of responsibility whatsoever if we are to judge them by their actions. Damn straight we need to "cut them off!"
But then I hear this funny satirical bit about how it's the poor hogging all the wealth of this country. Any money they get they better give right back, by God! That's sort of like robbing a man's home then throwing him in jail when he asks you for food. "Learn to be responsible!" we lecture while munching on his frozen pizza. Hey dude, I'm entitled to your groceries!
It gets even weirder when I hear many of those who've been robbed feel too guilty to even claim their due. The rich man is always right! He deserves everything! It must be true I saw it in a commercial - every commercial, that is. If someone's taking your money, work harder! Do it long enough and you too can enjoy the free ride of the rich.
In fact, this propaganda is so engrained in us it's been taken up as a moral cause. What did the commie Jesus know when he said what we do unto the least of us we do unit him? In that case, how about getting your lazy ass to work, hot shot! Notice how when you gave up your carpenter job is when you got crucified? Coincidence? I think not! Luckily, there are a few "pragmatists" among us who know better than to listen to a socialist:
I don't need a crystal ball to make this forecast. Entitlement cuts are on the agenda not only for Republicans, but for the White House, which included cuts to Social Security and Medicare in its budget for the fiscal year that was supposed to start October 1st. So, the dialog in Washington will keep moving in the wrong direction: taking money out of the pockets of older Americans at a time when Social Security benefits already were cut by 1983 legislation, pensions are vanishing and many approaching retirement haven't saved enough.
"[I]t is the workers who have benefited least from the economic recovery who are bearing the largest share of the burden of these domestic sequester reductions," said the National Employment Law Project in a statement.
Some states are already embracing deep cuts to the food stamp program similar to those passed by House Republicans in Washington, ending the food subsidy for tens of thousands of low-income Americans regardless of what Congress does.
There is a massive redistribution of wealth going on - upwards. There are dishonest people living their life at the expense of millions: CEO's and the top 1%. There is a complete lack of respect for the work ethic: by those who fail to pay a living wage. Yes, we surely do need to "crack down" on these parasites among us. If we don't we'll all surely sink, just like the radios ranters say.
"My lack of education hasn't hurt me none.
"I can read the writing on the wall."
SAN FRANCISCO (AP) Autopsy results were returned today for Deborah Hanssen, aka the Black Widow Killer accused of poisoning each of her three husbands. Chemical analysis revealed Mrs. Hanssen died of the same poison she used on her spouses. The poison presumably was smuggled on her person when booked into jail. Her alleged killings of three high profile Bay area businessmen caused a national media sensation with a trial date yet to be set. A suicide note was found at the scene in her own handwriting. Police report the note simply stated, "I only know how to kill".
*****
"I'm trapped...I'm trapped..." She slumped down, crestfallen, finally unable to escape the gathering doom chasing her for so many years. She'd waited and waited, always kicking the can down the road, letting her emotional debts pile up and now...it was too late. A lifetime of lies had come home to roost.
She couldn't stand another day living the lie of her marriage contract. She'd bet her life on living it forever, that she had made the right choice, that she was one of the "smart ones". But with his new plans to move to a Caribbean island and "go native" for the rest of their lives she knew she could not possibly stomach that in any form, fashion or manner whatsoever. She'd tried every argument she could think of, every possible scenario of making it work. But she inevitably was drawn to the same conclusion over and over.
"I'm trapped...I'm trapped..."
Her roots, her life support system, the last vestiges of her identity were firmly planted in San Francisco. She knew it was dangerous to have made such an extreme commitment but comes a time when the weight is too heavy and the burdens have to drop. She'd secretly anchored her ship and any moving it would rip her in two. She knew her dire predicament may sound outrageous to an outsider but she had learned over the years this was a reality she could not ignore without devastating consequences.
She considered divorce, of losing everything. She told herself she could always step out on her own even as she decayed inside, immersing herself more and more into a lifestyle of luxury and painless pampering that became her single last pleasure. But now, in this instant, in the twinkling of an eye, she knew she could never go back. The luxury and the insulation had become as much a part of her as the limbs on her body.
Hard to go back after a taste of this. Very, very hard.
The slide had been long and gradual, selling her considerable charms for a life of ease and approval. She thought she'd be called out for giving away pieces of her soul. But no one said a word! Some were even encouraging. Everyone was doing it - how bad could it be? She hated being called the "good girl" and wanted show she too could walk on the wild side. For the longest time, she lived the dream, having her cake and eating it too.
Not that there's hadn't been any side effects. Many of the things she most liked about herself were disappearing. But what the hell. Had 'em once, could always get 'em back! But time stole her physical charms and she was stuck as a pauper at a market with nothing left to sell. She knew that day was coming but on that day she'd then right all the wrongs of her past. Or would she?
Or could she?
Her causes, her precious causes she'd fought for over the years. What did they mean now? What did it all add up to? Nothing and nothing. She'd fought for "justice" in the lives of others, never bothering to pursue justice in her own life. Damn him! If only he hadn't decided to make this infernal move! However miserable, life could still limp along if he changed his mind. Or better yet, have him be simply out of the way.
She'd once read about the murder of a man by slow poisoning. She made a mental note of it. Did she know even then this was her fate? Sure, this was a sin. But who had ever said a word against her sin before? If no one had found out by now, would they ever? And just imagine the reward! No more threats to her life. She'd be on easy street that no one could take away. There were only two ways out of the trap: either she died or he died.
Her topless volleyball would have mortified her religious parents
At the funeral she surprised even herself with her authenticity. "Bad heart" the lamented diagnosis. The widow in the black veil. It suited her so well! The world really is rotten to the core, never suspecting a thing. Her school friends who'd mocked her as a "goody-goody" were right. There are no rules to life. Why bother to be good? Why bother to be anything but a taker? To be anything else is to be a sucker!
Having sipped from the cup of betrayal her thirst became unquenchable. The enigma of her smiling vixen persona attracted ill bent suitors by the dozen, appealing to the worst of men's desires of mistreatment. Hell, she figured, why not kill these losers? She'd be doing them a favor. The seduction kept her alive, feeding off their naïve offerings, fools thinking if they deified her as an angel that somehow made them an angel too. That made her feel morally superior.
For the second murder she recruited a helper, sharing the thrill of the kill. Life was only getting better and better! Double the fun with a co-conspirator. Sex was off the charts, driving them both crazy in unfettered honesty. Not only that, but her accomplice was a long time friend of her second victim. Planning the deliberate demise of the willfully ignorant put him on a new high too. "I feel like the President!" Worse than crack is this drug of betrayal.
Too late did her accomplice realize his fate. He'd thought himself smarter, free of disillusionment. Sharing the secret was a bond she'd never break, he believed. But she couldn't kill him slowly like the others, he'd catch on. He had to be poisoned in a single stroke then come up with an explanation later. After him, she'd be done with marriage and its false promises. The world is a sham. Life is a sham. Right and wrong have no meaning. She'd spend the rest of her life proving that - in high style to boot!
But her explanation proved false and payment had to be made. Discovering her last husband poisoned caused her previous two to be exhumed. Her dark odyssey played out on the front page day after day to her horror. She'd convinced herself she'd be embraced for wicked ways by a wicked world. But even a wicked world need keep pretense of morality. They must prosecute her in full rage lest they betray their own selfish desires. But avoiding payment had been the theme of her life. Swallowing the fatal dose, she wondered if there had been any other way...
Braswell. That's all anybody called him. "Bastard Braswell", "Old man Braswell", "Braswell the butthead". No one ever had much use for him nor he them. Hell, I think even his kids called him Braswell. They couldn't wait to get out of that damn house. I don't blame them.
He got more eccentric over the years after the two sons left. He irked his oil fearing Texas neighbors to no end when he put solar panels up on his house - this was looong before solar was chic. He also got religion, becoming a devoted follower of prosperity preacher Kenneth Copeland. It further irked his neighbors when Braswell made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I don't think anyone really had a beef with that sort of pilgrimage per se, it was just the fact he was doing it.
"Individual responsibility" was his wall to the world. He'd never take anything from anyone no matter how dire his situation. The idea of feeling obligated filled him with a whole and irrational fear. He'd lash out like a wounded animal at any offers of help or even simple kindness. After a while, no one offered anymore out of a sense of self-preservation. Negative is as negative does and Braswell built his life around justifying that negativity.
Patrolling his property like a staff sergeant, he maintained a pristine environment. No way would he ever give possible cause for complaint to his enemy neighbors to give them the upper hand - and thus be obligated. But there was one curious exception to this rule: one half of Braswell's two car garage. It was there he stored his 69 Hemi Cuda. "Stored" being a gracious term as it was permanently parsed out in hopes of one day being the "baddest Cuda ever built."
To me that strung out car represented something more: an unfulfilled dream. Somewhere deep inside lay Braswell's unfulfilled dream and only he knew what it was. Knowing him, he'd never admit it but he had to express it somehow. And he did that through detached tires, primed unpainted fenders and an open hood never closing, waiting on something to come along and make it complete. Everyone else called the car parts nothing but an "eyesore".
One day I caught him crying in the garage. I was across the street and something drew my eye over to look at him. He immediately sensed me, scowled and stormed inside. That got me to thinking - thinking of something that'd never crossed my mind before: of doing something nice for Braswell. In fact, it struck me as curious I'd never thought of it before. How obvious! That's when I wrote my letter to Overhaulin'.
In the Overhaulin' show they sneak away a person's car for a week and return a one-off customized Chip Foose mind-blowing car that's out of this world. Chip is a happy giver and leaves no detail unturned. I often catch myself crying when the end reveal is done and the unsuspecting owner "has his life change", as they like to say on the show.
To nominate someone you're supposed to say how deserving they are. Having gone through some sort of sacrifice or health issue helps. But Braswell was the neighborhood asshole. So I had to come up with something unique.
Hi Chip,
I've often heard you say you love changing people's lives by giving them their dream car. You like to find deserving souls and reward them, so to speak. But I think that's limiting yourself and should try giving a so-called undeserving soul a chance. Talk about changing a life! Negative people never expect anything good to happen to them. They even avoid it sometimes just to hold on to their negative attitude! Believe me, I know. We have just such a guy here in our neighborhood reviled by everyone. No one reaches out to him anymore, he just keeps biting people's heads off.
I know this request may sound crazy to you but it makes perfect sense to me. I'm not even sure what kind of reaction you would get from him. I do believe it would be one of your most watched episodes. I do hope you will give this some thought. Thanks.
In the no-good-deed-shall-go-unpunished category, guess who got named as the insider. Chip even replied he wondered why he'd never thought of this before too. So I guess I was hooked at that point. And the stars really aligned for this endeavor when I learned Braswell was taking his undercarriage out to be powder coated, a long and arduous process as the entire car has to be dismantled. Knowing where he was going to have this done, I told Tony, the shop's owner, of the plans for Braswell's car.
He agreed to come up with an excuse for Braswell to bring along the car's dismantled body panels so the Overhaulin' crew would have those available to them. I was starting to get excited! As part of the surprise, the car's owner is pranked as to why his car is missing. This case was a little different as it would easily take a week for the powder coating. But my devious mind had something else in store!
I told the Overhaulin' pranksters that if Braswell thought something had happened to his car due to negligence that would completely feed into his negativity and anger. My suggestion was for Tony to say he forgot to lock the chain link fence one night and Braswell's car got stolen. The fake police would tell Braswell since his car was already in pieces it would make it very easy to sell them on the black market and would be virtually untraceable.
Tony actually knew Braswell and couldn't wait to deliver the "bad news". Braswell took it as expected. "How could you be so careless! I'll sue you for all your worth! You're an idiot! Do you hear me? An idiot!" Most marks on the show get upset to one degree or another when their car is gone but no one ever exploded like Braswell. Boy howdy! Talk about a bleepfest. I actually got worried we were going to give him a heart attack.
Hardest part of the prank was when I had to mosey over to Braswell's garage and ask him about the empty space to make sure he was buying our story. I expected to get his "nosey parker" routine but he was actually glad to see me. It gave him a chance to rage and vent, never once getting angry at me for violating the almighty sanctity of his privacy. I made all sorts of sympathetic sounds as my stomach churned to get out of there. Funnily, I actually felt good afterwards for approaching him even it was under false pretenses.
When the Overhaulin' fake police knocked on Braswell's door to ask him to come identify a stolen hemi Cuda they'd found the hidden cameras showed a confused but hopeful face. The old fucker could smile after all. God knows it had been a week of hell for him. He couldn't help but spill his guts on the ride over telling how much that car meant to him and this was perhaps the worst week of his life. He even started thanking the officers for their good work even at the risk of being - gasp! - obligated.
Unfuckingbelievably gorgeous result!
When they showed him into the warehouse where his fully restored car was Braswell was crushed. He immediately turned on the police for their gross incompetence explaining his car looked nothing like that. That's when the Overhaulin' crew revealed themselves and that the gorgeous beast in front him was actually his car. The man almost fainted and had to be grabbed before he fell from dizziness. Braswell was very distrustful at first but gradually came to accept that yes indeed, that was his beloved 69 Cuda.
Shit, I was bawling at that point. Braswell was like a little boy, scared to even touch it. He ran his hand along the fender as he would the body of a beautiful woman. He caressed the interior seats with awe but what really got him was the engine. I told Chip that Braswell wanted the baddest Cuda around so Chip arranged for a special high performance "Terracuda" hemi to be built and installed. Braswell not only had a one off car design but a one off engine to match! That's when Braswell broke down and cried, unable to face the cameras or the crew.
Things went south from there. I heard him mutter "I don't deserve this, I don't deserve this" on his way back out the warehouse entrance. I stayed hidden watching on closed circuit TV but no one could coax him back inside. I suddenly realized maybe I hadn't been so smart playing God with somebody's life. I knew how he must be feeling: Braswell was torn between his desire for the car and the desire to hold on to his negative ways. Accepting the car would mean never again being able to say "everybody's out to get me!"
I can't tell you how it finally turned out. You'll have to tune into the episode to find out. One thing I can tell you I was right about this being one of - if not the most - unique episodes in Overhaulin' history. Kindness really can change the world and this affair made me think of my own insanity in sometimes refusing kindness just like Braswell had. I guess maybe a lot of lives got changed that day. Be prepared to be surprised.
"Inequality For All" is the name of the new movie hosted by Robert Reich. It's a shocking film in some respects but nothing is more shocking than the simple fact it will fade into existence without ever being heard. Part of this is because without wanting to admit it, Reich lays out a case for the final unworkability of capitalism (which NOBODY wants to face). Instead, he presents the case we are on the wrong track but that it can be corrected.
Wrong.
But it is that false hope that allows him to be so clear in facts that should have the entire country up in arms. As can be seen by the graph above, ever since the Reagan devolution workers' wages have remained stagnant while income concentration has skyrocketed among the top percentile. Workers' wages aren't rising because there is no money for it. It's simply because profits are no longer equitably shared. Since most people don't have the esteem to fight for themselves, workers have compensated in other ways.
One worker in the film claimed this was fair treatment for him
First was the introduction of women into the workforce. Now it takes two wage earners to get by instead of one (minus childcare costs, of course). But you can only do that trick once. As wages remained flat workers then pulled the equity out of their homes to maintain their lifestyle. Again, a one time trick. Finally, debt has exploded in the last twenty years to keep from facing the hard truths. We've reached the limits of that too.
So where do we go from here? Into a vicious cycle of less spending, creating less job opportunities which leads to less spending, etc. We're out of tricks and permanently damaged. After thirty years are workers suddenly going to rise up and demand equity? Too late for that, suckers! Workers are now in the position of simply groveling for a job, willing to sell heart, mind and soul to the corporation just to survive. All leverage has been given away in a misguided idea of self-interest.
Ask almost anyone and they will tell you unions are evil, government regulations are hurting business and taxing the "job creators" is immoral. These are all conservative talking points we've come to accept as axioms for responsibility. The fact that anyone believes this garbage shows how few people truly are interested in responsibility. We have put greedy people in power as way to protect our own greed. Why does anyone expect a good outcome from this?
One of the talking heads in the film is the CEO of a large pillow manufacturer. He "absolves" himself of his wicked ways by verbally lamenting our current situation of inequality while oblivious to the solution he's free to implement. He states his income tax rate is 11% of his salary in "eight figures". This allows a huge absorption of money going to the top as working families spit out double or more his tax rate. But what is never addressed is why doesn't this CEO simply pay his workers more? Clearly, the money is there.
One good point the CEO does make is that he is not a job creator nor is there any such thing as a job creator. Only customers can create jobs, he points out. So if all those who allege concern over protecting the "job creators" were sincere they'd be fighting for the middle class since 70% of the economy is based in consumer spending. But greed is not a rational state of mind so even facts of self-preservation have no bearing.
If Robert Reich were to read this he'd say I'm being cynical in my assertion that nothing can be done without giving up our greed based system. But I don't subscribe to cynicism anymore than I do to a Pollyanna outlook. Optimism lies only in the truth. I simply observe the laws of nature that rule over us with or without our consent. And the truth of the matter is: give up your greed or give up your life.
Notorious artist AndNowForSomethingCompletelyIndifferent caused an uproar with his latest photo staging designed to "break the taboo of mixing sex and war". Labeled "incredibly sexist", "appallingly disrespectful" and "borderline treasonous" by its critics, the show nonetheless has attracted record crowds - even if only to scoff at it. The artist, however, is pleased to have "as many viewers as possible regardless of motivation".
The opening photograph "Women Love A Man In Uniform" was shot in Afghanistan showing two opposing platoons of men charging one another in focused fury dressed in French maid uniforms exposing their buttocks as onlooking women laugh and take pictures. This photo shoot reportedly enraged both the U.S. army and the Taliban. The artist took great pleasure in these reactions of "faux outrage".
A second entitled "Blind Obligation" shows a son performing oral sex on a gun held by his father protruding in profile at the same angle as a penis. The artist's explanation of "exposing the homoerotic nature of military conquest" was greeted with widespread skepticism from families with multi-generational traditions of military servitude.
Ready for combat!
A continuation of that theme was furthered in "Thanking The Victors" showing the U.S. President performing oral sex while pinning a medal on a taut, saluting soldier. Behind the President extends a long line of worshippers - both men and women - applying lipstick in eager anticipation. A woman in line stands with her head excitedly turned to the man behind her. She's quoted on the photo to claim, "This will keep us safe!"
"Jesus Loses" also sparked worldwide protests with its depiction of a Muslim soldier anally penetrating a cross bearing American soldier who smiles in the prone position while grabbing his groin. As the Muslim soldier readies to fire he is reading from the Koran and also smiling. The artist wanted "a sense of ambiguity so that the viewer will fill in the empty space with his or her own demons. A world without demons would be nonplussed by this photo."
"Grabbing The Wrong Magazine" displays an American soldier rushing into battle with an open Playboy while his fellow soldiers hold magazines of ammunition. The "Playboy soldier" is charging with an exposed erect penis. Surrounding soldiers ignore the field in front of them as they strain to see the centerfold. Awaiting enemy forces prepare to ambush their easy prey. An enemy soldier is quoted, "You've got to be hard to win!"
"Bikini Battalion" and its companion "The Final Rape" stirred controversy with its depiction of bloodied bikini clad models in combat as viewed by masturbating males. The second photo then depicts the male viewers performing necrophilia and forcible rape on helpless casualties. "Every man for himself!" shouts one rapist. On their backs is seen the phrase "Dogs Of War".
One outspoken critic called the series "a denigration of war, as if it were some useless, pointless exercise in futility substituting for sexual satisfaction." The artist found that description "most satisfying". Others were not as articulate but equally enraged. When asked to explain why the most common reply was: "I don't know, I'm just mad."
