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It started out innocently enough. I emailed the following picture from the Last Supper thread to some folks that included my family:
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The subject of my email was "Sacrilege". The reply from one family member was as below (you have to read it with a thick southern Georgia accent):
_____________________________________________________
From: Godsnogger, Cousin
Sent: Monday, December 10, 2007 2:33 PM
To: fubar@fubaro.net
Subject: RE: Sacrilege
fubar,
Like you I am appalled that our Lord and Saviour has been mocked in this way. I remember when I was younger that everyone you knew was a devout Christian and walked hand in hand with Him. God's teachings have always been to turn the other cheek and practice mercy and kindness, but I am weary of watching my values and my Redeemer mocked in a way that no other religion has been expected to bear in such silence as Christians have been subjected to recently.
If we don't rally together now and confront these degradations, show a united front to the evil people who promulgate such violent and harmful images, the world will not be safe for our children, and our children's children to worship our Father God.
Thank you for warning us that a new attack was being made on everything that is good and righteous in this world.
Yours in Christ,
Cousin Godsnogger.
_____________________________________________________
Well, to say that I was a little taken aback by this is a bit of an understatement. I was certain that everyone in my family was aware that I no longer believed in ghosts when one year I returned all of their religious christmas cards, re-enveloped and included with a note that said:
"The religious precepts of your letter are known to be harmful to human life and and foster ignorance and intolerance among those who practice these beliefs. Please refrain from sending these materials as there are children in my house. Thank you."
Unsure how to respond to my god fearing family member, I emailed my cousin a photo of a woman in a habit pissing in her panties.
I have to go now. The phone is ringing. It's probably my mom.
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Once upon a time there was this dude,see,just like you and me. So like this dude liked to give the homeless change and shit.
One day back in the 70's he befriended that dude that made that watered powered engine. Then he got these other plans for a power source by him that elevated things and stuff. So like after he gathered some reindeer and made a sled and made it fly,he killed that man cause this kind of information the world is not ready for.
So like after a sponsorship with Nike,he decided to fly around every year and go down chimneys to drop off presents and shit for the kiddies cause to him it was fun. But then he got arrested for it and spent a couple of nights in jail and lost his sponsorship.
But then thanks to My Space he started getting a fan base and people started getting to know him. But then this parental group kept flagging him for a pedofile so he had to shut down his site and went underground.
Today that site is invite only and the fan base is full grown adults. Some of those adults have kids and those kids are the luckiest kids in the world for this dude only comes to those adult members and gives gifts to the kids. And on Christmas morning,only those select few kids experience the true meaning of Christmas.
I like going on my rooftop every year to chat with Santa. It's sad,though cause Santa tells me that a lot of the adult members have kids that don't believe in him. And for some strange reason,ever since that encounter with David Blane before he became famous,no one can see him or his sled and reindeer unless you truly believe in him.
It's the only time of the year I actually drink a little. Santa's gonna look forward to that 12 pack of Coors Light.
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Listed below are a number of items concerning immigrants and your (and my) feelings about immigrants in the US. I would be interested in knowing what you think about each of the following situations and whether or not you would be bothered (or to use that awful word "prejudiced" about each of the situations below. So as not to influence your feelings at all I will send you my answers to these questions tomorrow explaining how I feel about each of them. I have made a study of each person trying to become our next president and I find that none of them would be significantly bothered by any of the incidents or conditions below. 'Fess up.
How would you feel?
Situation 1:
There are presently in the US a total of 25 foreign nationals convicted of heinous crimes who have been sentenced to death under state laws. One of these persons convicted of rape and murder of an 11 year old girl is a Mexican national and he confessed to the crime during his trial. He was advised of his rights under the Miranda doctrine when apprehended and there is no question of the adequacy of counsel which he was provided at trial. This inmate has now sued
to the Supreme Court of the US asking that his sentence should be put aside and a new trial held because he was never told during the trial that he had a right to seek the counsel of the Ambassador to the US from Mexico. He does not contest the fact that he never asked to have the counsel of the Ambassador during his trial or after his apprehension. If the US Supreme Court finds in favor of this defendant the other twenty four prisoners sentenced to death will have to be re-tried. All 25 of the prisoners have already exhausted their rights to appeal on other grounds.
The Supreme Court has agreed to rule on this appeal. President Bush says he agrees with the prisoner.
Situation 2. You go into a department store to make a small purchase and are waiting in line to pay for your purchase when another employee comes up to the cashier's desk and engages the cashier in discussion in Swahili dialect (at least you think it is Swahili) and frequent use of the word "nguruwe" at which they always look directly at you and giggle. This goes on for several minutes then the cashier turns to you and says in perfect Oxford English "May I assist you now Madam? ( or Sir?). Are you affronted? Do you think that Sears should allow this? Will you do anything about it? Or will you bask in the diversity?
( "nguruwe" incidentally means "pig" in Swahili) but you don't know that.
Situation 3. You are walking down a crowded city street and the two teen age (late teen age–about 19) walking directly behind you are conversing loudly in an Oriental language (you think) and giggling after each time they use the word "bakkhu-shun". Does this get on your nerves? Do you cross the street and walk down the other side of the street? Or do you just accept it and wish that you spoke their language? "Bakkhu-shun" in Japanese means "a woman who is much more attractive when seen from the rear that when seen from the front"—but you don't know that.
Situation 4.
Your eighteen year old son just graduated from high school and you have sighed a great sigh of relief, but he told you this morning that he has been turned down for entry to your state's university because their allowable freshman entries whoops–I forgot that you don't call them "freshmen"–the allowable number of "first year students" has been admitted. This is bad news because that means he will have to go to Texas Hindu University which has a good curriculum and faculty but costs at least four or five times as much as the state university because it does not have the tax support of the state school–your taxes. Then you find out that the state university admitted twenty three first year students from the Easter Island of Rapa Nui in order to achieve greater student body diversity and "culturally enrich" the school—these admissions without regard to the testing scores of the twenty three. You go to the registrar of the state university and stand in line to see someone and the two girls in front of you are talking in an unknown language and you catch only the frequently repeated word "Tingo" but this time you have time you smile. You know what "tingo" means in Pascuense , the language of the Easter Islands—it means ":the practice of taking all of the objects one desires from the house of a friend by borrowing them one at a time and never returning them". You know that because you were the sole survivor of a US submarine which dived in the Easter Islands in WWII–you were too slow to get down the hatch.
But what do you think about the act of the University in allowing the Easter Islanders to enroll as First Year Students in a school supported by your tax dollars when they did not make testing scores as good as our darling child —or even if they did for that matter.
Situation 5.
You land at DFW airport after a tough flight from Teheran Iran and you are already seething mad at Iran because of some things that happened to you in Teheran and you don't notice that your cab driver got his driving lessons from a camel. He stops at the side of the road just off the airport and hands you a small card which says in passable English "Please print in block letters the name of the street and number of your destination. Thank You. May Allah bring you peace".
So you print "904 Rindie St., Irving" on the card and hand it back to him. He thumbs through a MAPSCO and a bright light turns on when he finds the street and he smiles and takes off at about 90 miles per hours When you reach your destination you glance at the meter and hand him a generous tip just because you have been thinking of garotting him with your belt during the entire trip. When he sees the tip he screams "kill", "kill" I realize that he is not Iranian at all but rather Saudi Arabian where "kill" means "friend". But what do you think about the fact that a large percentage of the taxi drivers in New York City and other metropolitan centers are Muslims from Arabia, Pakistan, Yemen, Egypt and Iran as well as quite a few from India. This is purely and simply because the Taxi cab franchise owner can get these immigrants to work for a fraction of what he would have to pay an American citizen but the cab fare is the same or more than when the drivers were American citizens meaning that the franchise owner is making a much larger profit than before he hired all immigrants to drive his cabs. This OK with you?
I could go on all day with other examples but I will let these suffice. I will send my further thoughts tomorrow. What do YOU think about these things which are not exaggerated in the conditions they set.
Let me hear from you.
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10 October 2007 –
It’s 9:13 p.m., and I just put in a dip that I wasn’t really even craving, just to stave off a potential craving later. I’m dipping less and less now, generally twice a day at work and once in the evening. I dipped a great deal more when I was smoking cigarettes. I am willing to be free of tobacco altogether now, and I no longer see that eventuality as something to dread. Those sorts of feelings come and go. I wanted a cigarette badly a few days ago. Hell, a shot of bourbon, dank nugs and some heroin sounded good at that time. That passes. In the eighteen months since I stopped drinking and doing drugs those instances have been truly rare for me. I haven’t given it much thought; I’ve always had something to do that occupied my attention and kept me focused, even if that something was one of the transient impulses that lead nowhere and spring from that same inner well of compulsion that drove my earlier, more self-destructive, choices.
All is well. All was well also when I was feeling miserable. Giving “all” my stamp of approval when the mood strikes seems a bit superfluous, actually. Perhaps I shouldn’t arrogate that sort of authority for making value judgments to my unaided mind.
My walks these past two days have become a bit more energetic, strident even. The follow-up appointments with both my doctors loom large next Wednesday, as if I should be preparing a defense. For what? To prove that I’m being a good boy now? Not quite. I simply use that as a benchmark moment, one of many to follow hopefully, against which I can measure some increment of progress towards a longer-term goal. I suppose I want to buttress my current determination with the approval and encouragement of my doctors for what I’ve been doing so far. There is less my old need for a pat on the head inherent in that so much as just plain nagging fears and doubts I have about my strength of character and ability to follow through in a stepwise, measured process toward an end. I mean, the rubber kinda hits the road here, Pancho. I may not be a new creature, but the building of some new creation is largely in my own hands and no one else’s. Trite as it may sound, this really is no dress rehearsal. I am forty-four years old, and it is likely twenty years past the time when I should be safeguarding my health against the infirmities of old age. So whether in indolence or haste, the walks will continue, I hope, for some time to come.
Cody is taking me to the State Fair tomorrow after work. We were supposed to go to a movie, but he had previously promised a friend he would go with him to the fair, and I’m tagging along. It is something of an attenuation to what I had envisioned as a date, but perhaps that is a good thing. We could use some buffers in our relations at this point. They are at best strained, despite both our protests that we still love each other very much. I assume he is still dating the DJ at the bar where he is now working, and I am, for all intents and purposes, single and available, even if I have not been aggressively so. It’s not like I haven’t had enough on my plate to consider lately. My recent circumstances have put an ice-pack on that fevered dream. It is still there, but I cannot afford to lose myself in it at the moment. Neither one of us misses the relationship we had, or at least what it was becoming, but I do miss him a great deal.
I’ve never had spectacular success with relationships – how do you measure that, exactly – and he’s never done relationships at all. I’ll opt for counseling when things even out for me and that becomes available. I’m open to the idea, whether or not he and I achieve any kind of reconciliation. There are obviously some kinks in my psyche that need ironing out, independent of whatever he brought to the relationship. I keep hearing an unwritten country song in my head this evening with a line to the effect of “too afraid of a broken heart to ever fall in love”. I’m sure it’s already been written. I love him very much and care a great deal about him. That, I know, is genuine. It will be nice to spend time with him, and I do not intend to use the opportunity for anything other than just that.
I’ve noticed something on my evening walks, and during my walks after lunch during the work day as well. I smell things. I smell the Mexican restaurants in the neighborhood. I smell the Thai restaurant. I smell the coffee house. I smell everything. I imagine smells. There is a great variety of things that I used to eat with impunity that I simply no longer consider as viable options. It occurred to me last night as I was walking that I can now enjoy not only the memories of those foods and the experiences I associate with them; I can also simply enjoy the aromas themselves. I’ve read many times that a great deal of what we taste is experienced through our sense of smell. There is no reason I cannot enjoy those sensations just as much now, simply because I no longer fill my gut, and consequently my arteries, with the bulk of material that carries that matter into the rest of my body – and out again into the Trinity River.
I had a great deal of fun drinking and doing drugs over many years. I hung off the precipice by my very fingernails, such as they are, and lived intensely while I was dying incrementally. I swam in the muck and celebrated a good portion of it. I do not regret much of that, but I know that it is something I can never do successfully again, and never really did successfully in the past. How do you define success at something like that, anyway? The point is that those things I can enjoy now in my mind are like the best hit of weed I ever took, the best drink of straight bourbon in an air-conditioned bar when everything was perfect. Those moments rarely ever existed anywhere other than in my self-deceived imagination, but for me they were Platonic ideals that were as real and continuous as the creak of the chair I sit in at this moment. I can taste them, and I can feel their effects right now. And why not? What is the use of a rich interior life, a vivid imagination and a well of experience from which to draw if not to drink deeply for the rest of my days? I not only have the hard lessons of a life characterized by bouts of conspicuous consumption. I also have the thick residue of my difficulties from which I may mine those moments that, for me, represented real joys. The other benefit I gain is that my experience makes me uniquely useful in some other ways, and that is something that only comes with continuous sobriety and continuous cheerful labor and service. But that is for another day’s reflection.
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11 October 2007 –
I had the most bizarre and vivid dream last night, and it was very intense and sad for me even for many moments after waking. It was in color, and it felt very real.
I was meeting most of my immediate family in England, though the principle characters I presently remember being there are my mother, my father and my sister Pam. I believe Danny was there as well, though his presence was insubstantial to the action. We were at a palace that adjoined the ruins of an ancient castle. The palace was bright white and large glass windows everywhere, and the ruins a moss-covered crumbling pile of terra cotta stones, though it was also apparently in use. A coach went regularly over to the castle along a narrow road.
I had apparently changed a great deal physically. I remember that. People commented on it. The main thing I remember though is that my mother and my sister were both creating a big scene about something I can’t remember. I was furious with my sister, and to some extent with my mother as well though not quite so much, because this was the home of the queen and the seat of government, and we were the center of attention, though we were merely there as tourists. If I remember correctly, my sister broke something, maybe a window. I’m not sure. Her and my mother were yelling at each other in tears about some ancient family upset that was meaningless anymore. I remember being frustrated and embarrassed by the fact that we couldn’t be out in public. We were supposed to attend some show or spectacle and ended up being escorted out – at least I remember leaving with my father to go outside.
The palace-castle complex sat atop a large hill with steep sides with a river fronting it. There was a group of peasants, or at least plain folk, sitting amongst some large stones on the hillside in the sun. It was beautiful weather. Dad wasn’t doing well, I think. I sat my father down in that group and took a seat myself at the edge and looked up. A coach was traveling along that narrow road immediately above us, and I noticed that the stones along the edge of the road were crumbling and coming down the hill. Then I noticed that the entire structure of the ruins was collapsing and rolling down the hill toward us.
I jumped. It was as though I had acquired some phenomenal parkour talent. I leapt from one place to the next down the hillside while huge stones crashed around me, knowing that everyone in my family was doomed. I jumped across the boundary between the grounds of the castle and the adjacent buildings of the town. I was in a crevice of some kind about three feet wide that ran down toward the riverbank, and I somehow knew I was safe there. I continued down to the front of the building and turned to the right until I came to a walkway overhead. It was as if I were in some sort of dry storm gutter that surrounded the building. I looked up and there was my sister Pam reaching down to help me up. I was in tears. I didn’t want her help – I was furious at her – and I was devastated that the rest of my family was all dead. My parents were dead, and I knew that. I couldn’t’ speak. She walked me forward from the building to the sidewalk, which was just a dock on the river and into a small reception office about the size of my bedroom where a man behind a counter gave me a lifejacket. I walked to the door and saw the river right there and looked back to my left up the hill and saw the castle gone and the palace remaining and knew my family was gone.
I awoke with a tightness in my chest from sobbing at the man behind the desk and trying to get him to understand that everything was gone. It was REALLY weird.
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good: keeping a can of air freshener on my desk. I have the most explosive, satisfying gas ever lately.
bad: it smells like someone shit a mango tree in here
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I'm okay now but I wasn't on that day. That's the day I was fired from my job of 15 years.
I never told my parents until a couple of days ago. They went back home early this morning along with my younger brother. Tow will be here next week.
This has been a bad year. My heart surgery,my firing of the job that I would have done for nothing,my parents trying to get out of New York for it's getting too expensive to live there.
But a lot of good came out of this year. The generous support of you all when I really needed it. My wife telling me it's okay that I've been reduced to something I feel like less of a man,for I still have my host home.
Well,anyway,the reason for this blog is to bring it out to the public for I already told my parents.
And the reason they came over here for a visit? They want to live close to me.
Happy is not the word here.
There's some obstacles to tackle. My brothers need to find jobs. They plan on taking care of my parents. Were all ready to take tare of them.
What a year.
What a fucking year.
It seems the more pain this world dishes out,the more reward you seem to get back...or some shit.
There are still other options to where they will live...but god I hope they find the right house and live close by.
It's been a long time.
...but I'll never see that house in New York again...the house of my youth.
Tow never tore down that ghey wallpaper surrounding my childhood bedroom. I wonder if he'll take some with him.
My grandparents grave and my auntie's grave will be left there in New york. My other Auntie living in the North Bronx don't want to leave for she doesn't ever want to drive and is attatched to the subways. She'll be the only one left there.
Ooh I hope next year will be better. I hope next year will bring good news.
All we could ever do in this life is hope.
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I'm going to rant a bit now.
I've been in teh military for a while now, and as such, have yet to complete a college degree. Don't get me wrong, I've been working on it, and I was pretty darn sure the class I am taking now was to be my last one.
Just to check myself, I requested an evaluation of my degree plan progress, and these rat bastards are now telling me that after this class I'll be 2 credits shy, because they wouldn't accept one of my transfer classes.
AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH....
Now, normally, this wouldn't be such a big deal, but being in the military, it's a bit more complicated. I have to go get a form signed by the commander (for those of you who were or are now in the military, one knows you simply don't walk up to the commander and say "sign this, please"), take it to the education center so they can un-hold my account (it's on hold waiting for this form, which I wasn't worried about, because I thought I would be done!), then register for a class. Since it's an online thing, classes start every month, but it takes a couple of weeks to get textbooks shipped, and since it's the end of the fiscal year, if I want to register for a class that starts October 1, I really need to do it, like, tomorrow. But I work nights, and my day tomorrow will be spent sleeping, so I'm alert enough not to kill any of our patients tomorrow night.
Stupid college.
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For anyone who cares, my old blog can be found at www.paratroopersaresexy.blogspot.com
I was feeling nostalgic, and reading some of the oldies, and below is one of my faves, from September of 2004:
It was the best of times...
Being in the military, you always here the cliches about how this will turn out to be the best time of your life, and you'll have all these great memories, and what not.
At the time, you really don't think so. I remember running a mission in the mountains of Afghanistan, blowing up thousands of pounds of cached weapons. We got stuck outside of this little village for almost three days because the weather was so bad the pilots couldn't get the choppers in to get us out. We had planned for a 18 hour mission (it was supposed to take 3 hours) After the first 36 hours, we had very minimal food and no water, and really no hopes of getting any. We literally pooled our money and paid the locals for food and firewood to keep warm and thaw out (the first night it poured down freezing rain ALL NIGHT LONG - needless to say the next day was a cold friggin' day). This was by far the coldest experience I have ever had in my life. You know how your fingers get if you spend too long in the tub or shower? My HANDS, to my wrists, were like that, pure white, for 3 days after the mission ended and we finally got back to our tents.
We went from that to having to climb thousands of feet of the most severe terrain I have ever thought about, in full battle gear, in 130° heat. We would drink a gallon of water before breakfast. Everyday. It was so hot that there would be random lightning storms almost every night - very surreal. We were fortunate enough to have our resupply helicopters (we were operating out of a forward base somewhere in the country) carry some of our supplies to the tops of the mountains we had outposts on for us. But everything else we carried. Weapons, ammo, extra water, food. Plus our body armor, and radios (with batteries), and all the other necessary items to sustain yourself on a combat mission.
And you know what? Those cliches are right. I look back at my experiences in Afghanistan, getting 107mm rockets shot at us almost nightly, to my travels through greater Baghdad, Iraq, having 82mm mortars landing in the lake next to our living quarters, and I can't help but to laugh.
We had a couple minutes of downtime today, and we were reliving some of our tales, and we were laughing our asses off about some of the stuff we did. Like driving full speed in a Ford Ranger pickup between bases in Iraq, in the middle of the night, with no lights on because we could see tracer fire in the direction we were going and didn't want to let the bad guys know we were coming, with rifles loaded sticking out the window just in case. Or having to make checks around the perimeter of our base in Afghanistan making sure the towers had batteries for their radios, and having the headlights of our John Deere® Gator going out, so we turned on our triple-A powered headlamps and kept hauling ass.
Everything from our section leader at the time insisting we all got up at sun-up to go running (we all got up before sun-up and left him alone) to the donkey we hired to carry supplies up a mountain that fell down about 700 feet of jagged terrain (we had to put the donkey out of its misery the next morning - our chain of command wouldn't let us risk going out and doing it at night, and we had to pay the locals for the donkey), to the guy who we bet couldn't eat a case of 30 yogurt's in 30 minutes (he made it to 22 in the first 7 minutes, and then only got 4 more in the rest of the time).
At the time, it was some of the most horrible experiences of my life, and some of the things I saw on my world-tour-to-date will be etched into my brain for eternity, forever haunting me at the most inopportune times. But looking back at it now, I had some of the funniest times of my life with those guys, and I will never forget the times we had, and most of the memories we made.
I remember those times mostly with fondness an laughter, lightheartedly making fun of each other for some of the stupider things we did while there (see above night-time driving stories), but I also remember the camaraderie - the knowledge that at any time I could be called upon to literally save the life of my closest friends, or help them kick the living crap out of someone that was trying to kill both of us. If you have never shared the experience of whole-heartedly fearing for your life with someone else, you really don't know the kind of closeness that we soldiers share - I believe even more so in our unit. Shared hardship is one of the things that bring people closest together, and an Airborne Infantry unit that has spent 12 of the last 21 months in a combat zone half a world away have shared a lot of hardship together.
I continue to pray for my brothers and sisters still over there, and I sincerely hope you do, too.
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An old friend (not quite as old as I but nearly) that I used to work with in the electronics business recently sent me a listing of eight reasons why he thought that Fred Thompson should be our next president. I read them carefully and decided that I could and did support most of the reasons and with just a little modification I could adopt them as the reasons that I was going to vote for Fred Thompson for our next president if I and he live that long and the creek don't rise.. Here are the reasons. (in reverse order):
8. Because Fred Thompson's voting record in the U.S. Senate shows that he is a staunch supporter of the Constitution of the US as written and including the second amendment which guarantees our citizens the right to bear arms, he is against abortion on demand, against higher taxes,for a balanced budget, for a strong defense, in favor of ANWR drilling, for limit capping foreign aid, for private property rights, for the Iraq war resolution and for welfare reform.
7. Because among the special interest group ratings Senator Thompson earned and received:
A score of zero from the National Abortion Reproductive Rights Action,
A perfect 100% score from the U.S. Chamber of Congress,
A perfect zero from the American Federation of Teachers,
Only 11% from the ACLU,
A strong 85% from the American Conservative Union,
A strong 86% from the Center For Security Policy,
A very weak 6% from the National Education Association (an organization I once refused to join),
A valid 90% rating from the League Of Private Property Owners,
A strong 97% rating from the National Tax Limitation Committee,
An 88% rating from the National Taxpayers Union,
A beautiful ZERO mfrom the Americans For Democratic Action,
He supported the "Contract For America Actions" 100% of the votes (as compiled by Vote Smart ),
6. Because under his Chairmanship the Senate Governmental Affairs Committee pursued an aggressive agenda aimed at reducing the size of government and making it more accountable to the voter. He was also active in efforts to make the government computer systems more resistant to attempts to violate their security.
5. Because when Thompson makes a mistake he admits it and learns from it. He did vote for the McCain-Feingold Bill but has admitted publicly that the bill was inadequate and was a poor attempt to solve the problem of influence peddling and just plain old bribery. He now favors FULL disclosure of all monies received by any Congressman from any source other than the US Treasury.
4. Because Thompson has the admiration and respect of his fellow Congressmen on the Hill and is the most likely candidate with the ability to acheive some semblance of cooperation between the Executive and Legislative branches of government.
3. Because he scares the Devil out of Leftists, Socialists and Big Government advocates. Democratic strategist Bob Beckel stated in an Interview on Fox News
that Fred Thompson for president would be their worst nightmare" because of his communications skills and his ability to swing voters across party lines. Fred Tompson is much more "Issue aligned" than he is "party aligned" and the voters instantly recognize this. Thompson is not a Ronald Reagan but he is an astute student of Reagan's political tactics. Like Reagan Thompson is more than "just an actor."
2. Because he doesn't scare Independents and Reagan Democrats. Like Reagan Thompson is that rare sort of conservative who can sell conservative ideas to moderates and independents. Thompson may well be the only candidate who can fully mobilize the Republican party at this time. The Republican party made a knowing shift under Bush of recognizing and promoting "Big Government" which turned off a significant segment of their traditional base. The old "pools of dependency" idea where every one depending upon the government will vote for incumbents has not worked for the Republicans and won't work ever. The principal bulwark of the Republican Party always has been and will continue to be the "family values, Christian right, low taxes" which the Republicans deserted under Bush.
1. Because he will beat Hillary Clinton like a rented mule----thats why Fred Thompson should be our next President and a good enough reason to vote for him.
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