The other day I heard some hired gleeman whining out Bob Dylan’s “Like A Rolling Stone”, and smirked a bit to myself as he sang the line, “You’re invisible now, you have no secrets to conceal.”

So how does it feel?

How does it feel to be on the wrong end of warrantless wiretapping, illegal surveillance that would have been a felony in many a previous decade, and the continued off-the-rails abuse of power wielded by law enforcement and governmental agencies?

Eight years ago today, my husband arrived home early from work. As he walked into the room, I rose from my bed and announced that I wanted to get something to eat.

This was a big deal because I hadn’t eaten anything for three days. I’d spent most of that time laying in bed, not wanting to be alive, not wanting to be awake, trying to wish the nightmare away. Sometimes I would get up out of bed and wander around the house. I’d drink some water and see if anything new was on TV. It wasn’t. I’d stand there for a few minutes watching on the idiot box what I’d already seen with my own two eyes, turn it off, and go back to bed. I slept a lot. I cried more than I care to remember. I’d reassure the cats, who were all expressing the worry and concern of communication-challenged but emotionally astute children.

Most television channels still had footage of the crumbling towers on eternal repeat, but a few were starting to show other coverage. The TV coverage didn’t come anywhere close to the chilling, thunderous sound of the collapses as I experienced them from only a mile away. It was very lost on me, and therefore very easy to walk away from or turn off.

The worst of my horror was the certain knowledge that there was no way the US intelligence community hadn’t seen this coming. I tried to push what I knew to the back of my mind, denying it, unable to deny it, unable to forget it, and unable to share it with anyone. The knowledge of this was kind of like the sound of the towers coming down – it was something you’d never understand unless you’d been there. It wasn’t going to be on TV. Trying to talk about it would get one looked at with the level of sympathy reserved for the insane. That didn’t make it any less real or any less horrifying.

My husband gently asked me what I wanted to eat, fully planning to make it for me. I said I wanted something that we wouldn’t have to cook ourselves. I’m not really a junk food fiend, but for whatever reason I settled on Burger King.

We went to the “Bravo Kilo” as we used to call it in the military, and I ordered my usual, which was a whopper with cheese, no tomato. While we were sitting and waiting for my first meal in three days, a fire broke out in the kitchen. The fire alarm began incessantly shrieking and strobing. Shortly a hook and ladder company came barrel-assing into the parking lot. The other people in the restaurant glanced uncomfortably and sadly at the firemen, still feeling the shock themselves from 9/11. I was quietly laughing like a crazy woman – the last damned time I’d been outside the house there had been the same scene… smoke and incessant sirens. Just what I needed, another overload of adrenaline. Nobody there except my husband would understand why I was laughing, but it wasn’t like anyone could hear me over the siren anyway. Eventually after what felt like an eternity tied to a mast, the husband returned bearing my food.

Three days of not eating won out over the adrenaline. I took my burger to go and we got the heck out of there. I ate it in the car.

Every year on September 14th, rich or poor, sick or well, at home or a hundred miles away from home, I go to my local “Bravo Kilo” and order a whopper with cheese, no tomato.

Now you know why.

September 10, 2009

New York – In a last minute decision, lawyers for the City of New York have conceded that the New York City Coalition for Accountability Now (NYC CAN), a group comprising 9/11 family members, first responders and survivors, indeed did submit over 30,000 valid signatures to put the referendum for a new 9/11 investigation before the voters of New York City this November.

Short and not so sweet: A Yale graduate student who was to be married this weekend has disappeared. She left all her personal stuff in another building and went into a lab building. Hasn’t been seen since.

Lasthorseman, you’re just gonna LOVE what her major is. Pharmacology.

How many biochemistry researchers does this make who have had interesting things like this happen to them over the last several years, now?

If I were the FBI I’d be tearing that goddamn Skull and Bones building apart brick by brick.

Charlie Sheen Requests Meeting With Obama Over 9/11 Cover-Up.

Regardless of whether or not President Obama agrees to meet with him, Sheen is confident that his letter will serve as a catalyst from which questions surrounding 9/11 and other false flag events will be brought to national attention.

This is a call to action and a declaration of war on the lies of 9/11 that have formed the foundation of the endless wars abroad and the police state at home as the Republic falls. Sheen is demanding that truth activists and those who simply care about the future of the country stand up beside him and speak truth to power.

Sheen is now urging grass roots political organizations and individuals across the country, such as the town hall protesters and We Are Change groups, to go to press conferences and other public events and demand answers about the truth behind 9/11. As much awareness as possible around the issue of false flag terrorism needs to be generated in order to prevent tragedies like 9/11 from happening again. Sheen emphasizes in his letter that we cannot let 9/11 become ancient history, try and forget about it or just move on, because if a nation forgets its history then it is doomed to repeat it.

We cannot allow governments to continue to advance their political agendas by exploiting forged pretexts, argues Sheen, and the fact that big budget hit pieces against 9/11 truth are still being rolled out proves that the establishment is upset that the population is waking up to false flag terror.

The forced resignation of Van Jones based on his (apparently retracted) signature on a 9/11 Truth petition, conveniently and suspiciously timed just prior to the eighth anniversary of the attacks, is clearly an attempt to perpetuate the Bush administration’s fairy tale. It creates the impression that the Obama administration does not buy into the LIHOP or MIHOP theories about the 9/11 attacks, but it also serves as a means to assess the public’s opinion on this matter.

Therefore, the community demanding a new investigation of the events surrounding 9/11 needs to hit back at this, and hit back hard. One way is to involve high-profile, well known celebrities such as Charlie Sheen and Jesse Ventura, but there needs to be grassroots backing as well.

Working in parallel with Sheen, who will speak via livestream on PrisonPlanet TV Wednesday and Friday; Richard Gage (head of Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth) will be livestreaming his own commentary tonight at 5:45pm Pacific Time from the Commonwealth Club in San Francisco. Livestreamed audio will also be broadcast here starting at 8pm Eastern Time.

In a manner of speaking, the front paging in mainstream media of the reason for Van Jones’ departure is a victory for the 9/11 Truth movement. The issues surrounding the attacks can no longer be ignored. The genie is out of the bottle about the nanothermite, and that is opening a lot of people’s eyes. Other questions which point out the logical holes in the Bush fairytale are coming fast and furious. Why did the buildings burn for months when jet fuel dissipates quickly and is designed to burn clean? Why did NIST never test for the presence of thermite? Why, when physicists, mechanical engineers and architects have simply asked questions about the official story, have they been shunned, blacklisted by their communities, and fired from their jobs as if they were witches in a world of priests?

How did a jumbo jet which has NEVER been seen on camera mysteriously evaporate into a few pieces of detritus from OTHER planes on the Pentagon’s unscorched, unscratched grass? Where is the footage of the “plane” hitting the Pentagon? Why is that classified? Why are there portions of the audiotapes and radio transcripts for first responders who were inside the WTC that are classified?

Why was there a site wide powerdown of the entire WTC complex the weekend before? Who coordinated that effort? What was the supposed purpose of that effort? How involved with that effort was Securacom, the corporation run by Bush’s youngest brother? As witnesses have stated, did they pull the bomb sniffing dogs off the site that weekend, and were they kept off the site for the duration?

What are the links between what happened on 9/11 and the controlled demolition of the gas towers in Maspeth on 7/15 of that same year? Who performed that controlled demolition, and was it deemed necessary by the site’s owners? How much explosive did they bring? How much explosive did they use? What type of explosive was it?

Why did not ONE of the supposed 19 hijacker’s names appear on the passenger manifests of the planes? How is it possible that ordinary cel phones were supposedly successfully used on an airliner in flight at an elevation of several hundred feet? Why is there no explanation of the multiple-G-force hairpin turn – a turn that experienced pilots have said would stall the airplane in midair – made by one of the flights from Boston, supposedly executed by a poorly trained and incompetent-at-best terrorist pilot as it deviated from it’s flight path to smash into the WTC?

Why, during the time immediately following the attacks, while all commercial air traffic had been completely grounded, were members of the bin Laden family allowed to fly out of the country? Why were USAF fighter jets not scrambled within 15 minutes of the first attack? The USAF Major General who supposedly gave the order to scramble those jets is just a little dead, one of the victims of a DC Metro train crash. So he’s not around to ask. How… convenient.

The questions go on and on, and they need to be asked until we have the answers. They are NOT going away, and neither are the people who are asking them. Gossip is swift, as the saying goes, but truth endures.

Travel is expensive and newly dangerous, and thus only available to the wealthy. Bands of mercenaries vie with robber barons for control of our world. Borders and nations do not matter half as much as the machinations of secret societies, dynasties, and political factions. We have an upper and a lower class, and not much in between. The rich build corporate fortresses and congregate their vassals around them, which they use to control their other resources. The warrior class has resumed it’s role as protectors of those with money and power. Human rights like privacy and affordable health care are purchasable commodities. Your skin color, your gender and what religion you practice still matters a whole lot more than it really should.

This is the America that Bush and Cheney left us with – a corporate feudal state; a sick, twisted car accident between multinational corporations run amok and a fascist government to support them. A moronarchy, if you will.

I knew this promised to be quite a show. Farmingville is a hotbed of right wing racism on Long Island on the best of days, and Bishop’s previous Town Hall in Setauket (held in June) dissolved into chaos thanks to the Freeptard presence. This was one of the reasons my husband The Martial Artist(tm) was also in attendance.

I have to admit, I was a little nervous when I didn’t see a single person I knew from Vets for Peace, IVAW or Code Pink anywhere in the 800 person, fully packed auditorium of Sachem Public High School tonight. I needn’t have worried. The angry looking tattooed skinheads and flag wavers in veteran regalia were strutting around, but for every one of them there were THREE people holding “We support Obama” signs.

Before the event began, freeptards planted throughout the room started chanting, well, whatever the heck they were chanting. I honestly couldn’t hear it because the Obama supporters started a counter chant, and the room (which already sounded like a sold out Led Zeppelin concert at Madison Square Garden) became a deafening cacaphony of unintelligible chanting. Signs were waving frantically over heads, the room went completely nuts for about 15 minutes.

Most awesome experience of the night: the supporters of health care reform – obviously present in larger numbers – started completely drowning out the wingnuts. Slowly, like an ocean of sound growing higher and higher and then crashing over the heads of everyone in the room, the louder chant became recognizable as…

“YES! WE! CAN! YES! WE! CAN! YES! WE! CAN! YES! WE! CAN!”

As my husband and I realized what was going on we added our pair of sergeant-like leatherlungs to this endeavor. What press were in the room were going crazy, running up and down the aisles trying to capture this. It was frickin’ beautiful.

This incident pretty much set the tone for the entire evening. The astroturfers weren’t going to have a prayer in hell tonight. Newsday falsely reported that the opponents of health care reform outnumbered supporters, but those who were actually there know this is a blatant lie. There also were no buses in the parking lot for supposed “union imports”. Suffolk is a very large county and people are just going to have to understand that plenty of people in the unions actually do live in Bishop’s district, and they drive their own cars.

There were cards being distributed for people to ask questions, and most of the first were asked by opponents of health care reform. This was very clever, because it gave Bishop a chance to totally derail the agenda the wingnuts had to disrupt the meeting. It wasn’t like they weren’t getting their questions addressed, after all. They certainly didn’t LIKE the way a lot of the answers debunked the propaganda they’d been programmed with, but they couldn’t complain that they weren’t being allowed to ask their questions and GET the answers!

The freeptards sitting directly behind me were obsessed with screaming accusations at Bishop of not having read the bill. This was pretty stupid. Bishop (who is on the Health Care Committee) made several specific references to sections and pages of the bill, which an assistant would flash up on a screen at his request. He was quite well prepared for every question they threw at him.

The moderator was this lady who did a really good job, in general, of keeping people calm. She was trying very hard to be reasonable, but there are just some people in this world who are too stupid to reason with. “I’m Italian,” she said, “I know all about passions, but we need to be respectful” and she went on like that for a bit. So the racist bastard sitting behind me heckled her, “Oh, I know how to speak Italian!” and I whirled around and gave him my Brooklyn best – “Oh yeah? FANGOOL!” That shut HIM up for a while. ;-7

There was only one person who the freeptards managed to shout down from the podium, and that was a Mr. Mitchell, head of the Long Island Federation of Labor, who lived outside Bishop’s district. It seemed to be a big deal that people who got to ask the questions live in the district, but you’ll never see a Town Hall in NY 3, which is my district, because Parasite Petey King, like most Republitards, doesn’t give a flying sideways fuck about what his constituents think. It is not and it has never been my fault that Parasite Petey is my Congressman, I never voted for the bastard in my life. So if I want to see democracy in action I’ll go where I can see it, and anyone who doesn’t like that can kiss my sweet Brooklyn ass.

Anyway there was a short scuffle as the freeptards shouted down Mr. Mitchell, and immediately other union members began surrounding the man as he stood at the podium – not doing anything, just standing their passively with their arms down, but obviously shielding him with their bodies. They were about two feet deep around the guy before he decided to waive his question rather than allow this single disruption to continue. I was not able to see whether anyone got removed from the room during that single scuffle in the audience, but there were no other incidents. The video (by a freeptard) shows that a guy in an orange shirt in the audience started a fight which threatened to become physical with a union guy (in a red shirt) and was removed from the hall. Toward the end of this video you can see the other union folks shielding Mr. Mitchell with their bodies in case the freeptards jump him.

The event went on until 8:30pm and the crowd dispersed peacefully. There was a lot of freeptard chanting and mugging for the cameras outside, but most everyone else decided not to stay around for that.

So that was my big whoop-de-doo Town Hall experience this evening. I think it went well, overall. Didn’t bring the camera, so no pictures from me today, sorry.

I would like to express my thanks for the extreme professionalism, courtesy and OPSEC displayed toward me this evening by two members of the Department of Hopeless Insecurity.

Let’s start with what first called my attention to the fact that I was being tailed today. I understand completely that when false taxicabs are deployed to follow a scary scary New York based suburban housewife around that a person completely unfamiliar with the area will think that the most practical color to paint them is NYC screaming yellow, but someone needs to explain to these poor sods that suburban Long Island taxi companies don’t usually do this. The NYC yellow cab is an entity entirely unto itself, and generally confines itself to the city proper. Seeing them an hour outside of city boundaries is extremely unusual.

I don’t think I really need to apologize for the fact that the one who tailed me this afternoon had to sit in a parking lot for several hours while I wandered merrily about supplanting our meager income with bottles n’ cans, because when I returned from the first foray he was stuffing his face. Our tax dollars at work. I am so proud, and so will you be too when I inform you how his successors behaved.

You see, I had to fare forth yet again this balmy evening to pick up my husband and stepdaughter from the train station. They’d had a long day travelling and I figured I would save them a few steps. I apparently did not save our doughty and vigilant Protectors of the Homeland, Knights of the 21st Century any steps at all. They were right there with me, parked right next to my car in the same screaming NYC yellow “this SO does not belong here” taxi.

I wandered around the train station and sure enough, found a few more bottles n’ cans. Then I returned to my vehicle. It was about 8:30pm, and there was no one else near the two cars – mine, and the taxi.

Ordinarily I would have simply found it odd that a NYC yellow cab with the incongruous company name of “Island Taxi” was making a point of travelling in the same circles I did, except that as I approached my vehicle, the stalwart defenders of… well, whatever the fuck you want to call this travesty of a country now that it’s no longer quite a democracy… looked at me and said rather loudly, “LIGHT ‘EM UP.”

This military euphemism for announcing that a target has been spotted and needs to be filled with lead, incendiaries, and other assorted things that go “boom” was not lost on me, and it was clear that since I was the only other person around, that they meant no one other than me.

Their sentiment is 8 years and 20 days too late, but the assholes that blew up my office building on 9/11 can ALSO kiss my sweet Brooklyn ass.

I mean, don’t you think it’s really special and heartwarming to know that I lived through that awful day just to be threatened with death in my own town by hypocritical, power-tripping pieces of shit who pretend that they have EVER “kept America safe”?

I snorted something about “Hopeless Insecurity” – it was clear that this was who they were now – then held my tongue, and my temper, as I have gotten entirely too good at doing over the years. The way they reacted to what I said, well, let’s just hope you don’t send these two cluetards to infiltrate a poker game any time soon. Never mind their morals, which also suck. Their mad seekrit agent man skillzors also need work. If this is the best you’ve got anymore, I truly fear for America.

The train arrived, and I hugged my stepdaughter in front of these pieces of shit – YOUR pieces of shit, President Obama – to show them what a scary, scary suburban housewife I am, and how right they were to waste the nation’s tax dollars following me to the train station where I was doing scary, scary things like picking up beer cans to help pay my rent while I waited for my family. How right they were to threaten to “LIGHT ME UP.”

Your creatures need to be schooled, Mr. Obama. They need their asses kicked.

That is not my job. It is yours.

If you make it my job, a lot of people will be very, very sorry. I will not be one of them.

I am, I am indeed, a scary, scary suburban housewife. You have full access to my files. You know exactly how scary I can be. But I am also a woman who remembers when the warriors of this country fought ONLY to protect and defend, and only a fraction of them had been so thoroughly brainwashed as to consider “only following orders” to turn on the citizenry of their own country.

I will take no shit off terrorists, President Obama. Including yours.

As Vets Await Checks, VA Workers Get $24M Bonuses

Wow, that’s special. Like olympics special.

The official, Jennifer S. Duncan, also engaged in nepotism and got $60,000 in bonuses herself, the IG said. In addition, managers improperly authorized college tuition payments for VA employees, some of whom were Duncan’s family members and friends. That cost taxpayers nearly $140,000.

Separately, a technology office employee became involved in an ”inappropriate personal relationship” with a high-level VA official. The technology office employee flew 22 times from Florida to Washington, where the VA official lived. That travel cost $37,000.

So, people like THIS are considered “employable” in your world? Yeah, right. Fuck you. Yeah, you – you know who you are.

In the meantime, does this remind anyone else of that little well-worn joke about how bureaucrats describe a crock of shit to their supervisors? “This wonderous and highly decorative container is full of the stuff that makes things grow…”

Coca Cola’s adroit, questionable practices during the Second World War are legendary. The company managed to play both sides of the European front against each other with breathtaking chutzpah, opportunism, and outright greed.

I stumbled upon this facet of history (or to be more accurate it whopped me over the head with a 2×4) as I wandered an area on Long Island steeped in history, looking for my bottles n’ cans. I was going to get more than I bargained for today.

There’s a building in Garden City – now boarded up and abandoned – just past the Roosevelt Field shopping mall on Old Country Road that used to host a data center for a gigantic hospitality industry “octopus” company called Cendant. Cendant had purchased the Avis rental car agency headquarters and made it their own, so most locals still knew it as the Avis building.

I made waves at Cendant during my first few weeks at Sun Microsystems by solving a three-month-old “severity 1” NetBackup tech support escalation in fifteen minutes. As a result there were those within the company who respected my skills, and for a period of time they became one of my regular clients, until they rolled up the sidewalks and moved their headquarters to New Jersey.

It didn’t hurt that an old college friend worked there, albiet in a completely different department. She was the one who explained to me that the building had been a munitions factory in World War II, and that was why the walls were three feet thick in places, and why it’s hallways were laid out in a maze that otherwise would have made no sense.

Several years later – oh, the rich irony – I stumbled upon the disused railroad tracks that obviously had led between the factory and the Roosevelt Field airfield.

It was rather bewildering. The dusty bottle I’d pulled out of the ground said “Sparkling New Orange Soda” in stylized applique paint that indicated that it would date anywhere from the late 1930s to the early 1960s. OK, fine, there were lots of weird little fly-by-night soda brands that came out back in the day, but on the back of this one it said “Coca Cola Bottling Company”.

I was boggled. WTF?!? This was obviously a Fanta bottle. Come on now, everybody knows that Coca Cola’s version of orange soda is Fanta. Right?

But for whatever reason, it wasn’t being CALLED Fanta. Why?

I found out why.

While I was serving at Ramstein during Desert Storm, “Overseas!” magazine came out with an article with that incredibly cheesy title. It featured a tough looking gal in chocolate chip cami’s with a firm set to her jaw and a pair of the ubiquitous 1980’s ZZ Top “cheap sunglasses” that were being offered for sale in every AAFES store, BX, PX, and commissary. I believe she was either standing there holding a weapon or standing behind a gun emplacement. The very idea that this woman would be in combat was laughable at the time, women were having enough problems being allowed to fly C130 cargo missions for USAFE’s arm of the Desert Storm operation, Proven Force.