| (no subject) |
[Jan. 25th, 2006|10:23 am] |
"List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your LiveJournal along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they're listening to." (I won't be doing the tag part, since I doubt I even know 7 people on here that will ever read this).
1. Norah Brandoni - Sam and the No Minutes
2. Genius - The No Minutes
3. I'm All You Can Think About - They Might Be Giants
4. Albany - They Might Be Giants
5. Use Me - Bill Withers
6. Worried Man - Willie Nelson
7. I've Got a Feeling - Beatles |
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| dug bacon |
[Mar. 3rd, 2005|11:52 am] |
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Well, it looks like I'm going to start posting primarily on www.dugbacon.com now. It's still in it's fetal stage, I hope to do much more with it, eventually leading to my sacrilegious cult leader status or something, but in the meantime, the blog works. |
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| Taking a shot of freedom |
[Feb. 24th, 2005|10:23 am] |
The advertising genius that brought you such notions as McCain and Kerry and Max Cleland aren't war heroes, while A.W.O.L cokehead pathological liar W is the high (pun intended) and righteous path, are at it again. USA Next, a bullshit façade - I mean, completely autonomous and independent lobby group who just happens to have $200 million in soft money and shares office space with RNC marketing - is poised to release their new ad against Social Security, which we're apparently on the edge of declaring war against too (BUT NOT IRAN, that would be "ridiculous. And having said that, all options are on the table" - GWBush 2/22/05).
The ad (which can be seen here: http://bsd.democracyforamerica.com/page/petition/stopusanext) shows two pictures. One is generic desert camo guy, symbol of peace (ignore the gun) and freedom and democracy and what would Jesus do. The other picture is of two fucking faggots in tuxedoes kissing, symbol of Hell and damnation and Hell and Satan and HELL. Then a red X appears over the honorable soldier, while a green check mark appears over the amorous anti-Christ's and the text at the bottom says "The REAL AARP Agenda."
I'm reeling.
Okay, quickly, before all the fluid in my brain clots. The American Association for Retired Persons wants future generations to face a bankrupt Social Security because Grandma and Grandpa support hot man on man action and hate U.S. troops; while George W. Bush, renowned economist who brought his "spend it all on hookers and blow" mentality to the world's richest nation's government and sent us into crippling record deficits is the only person who can save Social Security now and forever. Is that the 1,000 words the picture is telling me?
Because, I'm starting to wonder about who wants gays to do what to whom anymore. See, I think I've figured out what this war thing is about. WMD's? Nope. Spreading democracy around the oil rich desert like butter on toast? Noooo. Human rights? Hahahahaha!
This war is about buttsex.
While here in the motherland, we're at constant odds with the ruthless agenda of ass-piracy; abroad, troops are given carte blanche to infiltrate the rectum of anything that moves. Today, as three British soldiers are convicted of abusing 'detainees' (the media euphemism for "guilty of being Iraqi in Iraq"), it struck me. Would I even know what Abu Ghraib is if it wasn't for sodomy? Nope.
So, we patriotic monkeys cower in fear as the Queer-O-Meter stays in alert level red, duct taping our cracks shut and frantically reciting the Old Testament, while America's real heroes are double penetrating the colon of freedom! It's all so clear now. Don't ask; don't tell; just fuck 'em! It was never Saddam we were after, it was Sodom!
To bring it all around, don't sweat the AARP kids! They're on our side! They're on our backside, even! They don't support homoequality because they hate our troops; they support our troops because they support homoequality! Taking a shot in the ass is the new American way! From the top down, from the bottom up! If you asked me in the 90's to let some stranger put his hot dog in my buns while his buddies photographed it, I'd have said "No, sir!" After 5 years of neoconservatives running the show, I'm so used to taking it in the ass, I could freely pass a Winnebago out my rear without lubrication!
Sing it with me now:
My knuckles are white
My cheeks are chaffed
But it's alright
Cause America's safe!
(repeat until 2008) |
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| Social Security |
[Feb. 11th, 2005|01:07 pm] |
Obviously, something must be done, and soon!
"Because the — all which is on the table begins to address the big cost drivers. For example, how benefits are calculate, for example, is on the table; whether or not benefits rise based upon wage increases or price increases. There's a series of parts of the formula that are being considered. And when you couple that, those different cost drivers, affecting those — changing those with personal accounts, the idea is to get what has been promised more likely to be — or closer delivered to what has been promised. Does that make any sense to you? It's kind of muddled. Look, there's a series of things that cause the — like, for example, benefits are calculated based upon the increase of wages, as opposed to the increase of prices. Some have suggested that we calculate — the benefits will rise based upon inflation, as opposed to wage increases. There is a reform that would help solve the red if that were put into effect. In other words, how fast benefits grow, how fast the promised benefits grow, if those — if that growth is affected, it will help on the red." —George W. Bush, explaining his plan to save Social Security, Tampa, Fla., Feb. 4, 2005 |
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| My Mani-breast-o |
[Feb. 10th, 2005|11:36 am] |
Boobies. Such an interesting phenomenon.
I've come across many females in my travels, and in talking to them, during the short time that precedes them telling me where to go, I've found most of them hate boobies. They're always too small or too big or too something. This breaks my heart.
Granted, I'll never know what it is to carry two weight bags around on my chest. Correction: I'm hoping that my aging doesn't see the development of two weight bags on my chest, but with my steady diet of beer and more beer, one never knows. Anyway, at this point in time, I have no frame of reference. I don't understand their physics, I don't understand size changes and soreness. I'm just a simple boy.
It's no secret that males are absolutely and irrationally captivated by them. I'm sure there's members of my gender that are so enlightened and splendiferous that they aren't wildly consumed by simple mammaries, like a kitten enthralled for hours by nothing more than a string. To those few males I say: good for fucking you, ass.
In an odd way though, I'm jealous. Not in the obvious "If I had boobies I'd never leave the house" kind of way. Rather, I envy the desire. There's nothing about me so simple as a body part that the opposite gender gives two shits about. I'll never have a girl interrupt me and say, "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening because I keep staring at your chest hair, or third nipple, or backne, or beard, or the barely noticeable rolled up sock in your shorts, etc., and it's driving me wild" I know this gets old, and eventually infuriates women, but it's something I'll never know first hand.
Sure the grass is always greener, and it's always easy to speculate from a basis of ignorance, but that won't stop me. I'd wager to say that if women near and far were inexplicably drawn to my belly button, or that wart shaped like Graceland, or whatever, I'd be generous with my objectification. "Wanna see it? No problem, and thanks for making me feel desirable."
See, that's the key. As a boy, I'm no object, I'm not desired for any natural and easy way. If I even show up on ladies' radar at all, it's for some stupid intangible like my 6th grade reading level or my ability to make an occasional funny. FUCK THAT. Sometimes the monkey doesn't want attention for dancing in a funny hat; sometimes the monkey wants attention just for being a monkey. Love me for my tail, not the poo I fling.
Maybe that's lazy of me. I'm certain it's insensitive and blah blah blah. I don't care. Boys want to feel sexy too. I want to feel objectified for just being, I want the easy moth-like adoration. I want to catch you staring. I imagine that's got to feel good, to be empowering, even if it's just the first time.
The angler fish has a fleshy tipped spine it uses to entice its prey. Peacocks have lovely plumage to grab attention. Women have enticing instant fantasy inducing spherical beacons of lust. I mean, Christ, everyone needs a bosom for a pillow. What do I get to feel desirable about? Nada. This is my envy. |
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| This just in... |
[Jan. 12th, 2005|12:52 pm] |
Breaking News: US officially gives up hunt for WMD's
In other news: The planet is round
W's approval rating is poop right now. Apparently a bunch of the myopic assholes who voted for him don't like how he's handling things now that the re-election marketing blitz is over. Way to go, dickheads.
The Iraqi elections are going forward, if you consider 'forward' to be 'some people get to vote; some don't' in the democratic scheme of things. Apparently democracy is the Trojan Horse of the 21st century.
Allawi gave Arab reporters $100 each to help lubricate his backdoor entry to the Iraqi presidency. I guess we did accomplish the mission of bringing them our brand of democracy after all.
W's second attempt at naming a Security Chief comes in the form of Mike Chertoff. He was an architect of the Patriot Act. Need I say more? Providing Chertoff doesn't have a bevvy of untaxed illegal aliens cleaning his carpets, W will succeed in his apparent effort to get a bald guy with a moustache into the Security Chief position. Go team!
Here's a news tidbit I'm not even going to bother putting in my own words: "A Miami-Dade grand jury strongly recommended expanded use of Tasers by police in crisis situations involving mentally ill people as a safe alternative to guns despite reports about deaths of stun-gun targets."
I'm not sure I understand the big song and dance about CBS firing 4 people over the "Bush is a fucking liar" news story. Who cares? News is business, that's how it goes. It's not particularly symbolic of much other than news being business. Maybe Jon Stewart told CBS to fire them. It seemed to work for CNN in getting rid of the obnoxious prick Tucker Carlson.
Lastly, Kennedy is trying to rally Dems into a unified party with a clear direction in mind to combat the Republican Fear Machine. Good luck there. It's hard to get a forward thinking message of hope out to people who are busy duct taping Bibles to their vaginas. Until we can prove negatives, people are just going to keep thinking Satan is a pro-choice tranny with nuclear capabilities and nothing better to do than hate Nebraska. That, or the mass media stops toeing the GOP propaganda line, but proving negatives will probably happen first. |
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| Tom Ridge, out of focus |
[Jan. 6th, 2005|01:24 pm] |
(01-06) 13:01 PST WASHINGTON (AP) --
U.S. intelligence monitors are picking up less terror threat talk than a year ago, Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge said Thursday.
A variety of factors could be contributing to the lull, Ridge said, and he warned that terrorists "are strategic actors and long-range planners" who could be merely lying low before striking again.
"There certainly is a diminution, reduction in the amount of intelligence, and the decibel level is lower," Ridge told reporters, comparing information picked up over the past several months to the similar period a year ago.
Ridge offered no single explanation for the drop, saying it could be stepped-up U.S. efforts to boost security, increase military action, disrupt terrorist leaders and their finances or, simply, the "hardening of America."
"Could be any of those and none of those," he said. "I suspect it's probably all of them."
At this point, one of the reporters had what alcoholics refer to as a 'moment of clarity' and stood up yelling at Mr. Ridge, "You are the vaguest fucking person in the history of mankind. Indeed, your inability to speak using anything even remotely resembling factual statements, or provable concepts is so unparalleled that I'm forced to question your very fucking existence. Your entire worthless vocabulary is made up of Thesaurus entries for "maybe" and "I don't know." I can't believe this country gave you a job in intelligence and you gave us answers straight from a magic 8-ball. We're not expecting you to be Nostradamus here, but I've seen fortune cookies more specific than your press release guestimation proclamations. How do you like that, bitch?"
An unwavering Ridge replied, "I may like that very much; I may not; I could like it just a little or be completely ambivalent. Only through the vigilant support of our Lord and President may we ever have a small chance of possibly knowing the quasi-definitive answer to that in either the distant or immediate future, or not." |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 4th, 2005|04:46 pm] |
My, if it isn't difficult to motivate to write after the holidays. Difficult to motivate to just about anything, for that matter. I'll be sure to speak more soon.
For now, what the fuck was the debate over holiday semantics this year? I don't remember it being such a big deal in years past. The difference between someone saying "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas" to me is nil. I don't feel that "Merry Christmas" is pushing Jesus on me in the least. Christmas is a day, and wishing me a merry one is a nice sentiment indeed. Jews can have a merry Christmas, they could have a shitty one too. I'm sure I've had both pleasant and horrible Yom Kippur's. Who gives a fuck? The Christians do, those fucking psychos. It's their effort to 'reclaim' Christmas or some such poppycock. Last I checked, it was still theirs, and solely up to them to ruin. I don't know how Reagan convinced American Christians they're oppressed, but he did, and they won't fucking shut up about it now. Maybe we should start persecuting them, maybe the next jackoff who tries to hand me some Jesus Saves horseshit on Powell Street should get flogged (like telling a crying child you'll give it something to cry about). Whatever the case, it boggles the mind someone would even bring up the debate between "Happy Holidays" and "Merry Christmas." That's like telling someone not to say "Happy New Year" because it's insensitive to Chinese people. |
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| Protecting the Institution |
[Dec. 15th, 2004|10:06 am] |
I just read Mark Morford's most recent offering on the Chronicle today. It's about those wacky Canadians and how they're on the brink of faggy marriage legalization (among other things this country is scared shitless of). Then, in the elevator on the little screen o'news which spews almost entirely useless tidbits, I saw that people are putting off marriage longer and longer nowadays.
That got me thinking about something my cousin said during the election. He, who is married, pointed out that it's insane to think you can 'protect' marriage. As for the sanctity part, gimme a fucking break. Talking about the sanctity of marriage is like talking about the chastity of priests or the nobility of the Presidency (or the heroism of soldiers shot the fuck up by "friendly fire").
Then I got thinking about the 'institution' of marriage. Just to be clear on what the hell that means, I looked up 'institution,' where I found two very interesting definitions. 1) A custom, practice, relationship, or behavioral pattern of importance in the life of a community or society. 2) A place for the care of persons who are destitute, disabled, or mentally ill. Sounds about right.
I like the concept of marriage, in the same way I like the concept of Santa Claus, and being a Fireman when I grow up, and being rich. I'm not so cynical that I can say I'll never get married, but as more and more kids I grew up with are getting hitched, I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. |
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| Read it and weep |
[Dec. 14th, 2004|11:27 am] |
Chely Wright - Bumper Of My S.U.V. Lyrics
I've got a bright red sticker on the back of my car
Says United States Marines
And yesterday a lady in a mini-van held up a middle finger at me
Does she think she knows what I stand for
Or the things that I believe
Just by looking at a sticker for the US Marines
On The Bumper Of My SUV
See, my brother Chris, he's been in for more than 14 years now
Our dad was in the Navy during Vietnam
Did his duty then he got out
And my grandpa earned his purple heart
On the beach of Normandy
That's why I've got a sticker for the US Marines
On The Bumper Of SUV
But that doesn't mean that I want war
I'm not Republican or Democrat
But I've gone all around this crazy world
Just to try and better understand
Yes I do have questions
I get to ask them because I'm free
That's why I've got a sticker for the US Marines
On the Bumper Of My SUV
Cause I've been to Hiroshima
And I've been to the DMZ
I've walked on the sand in Baghdad
Still don't have all of the answers I need
But I guess I wanna know where she's been
Before she judges and gestures to me
Cause she don't like my sticker
For the US Marines
On the bumper of my SUV
So I hope that lady in her mini-van
Turns on her radio and hears this from me
As she picks up her kids from their private school
And drives home safely on our city streets
Or to the building where her church group meets
Yeah, that's why I've got a sticker for the US Marines
On the bumper of my SUV
Used to be a time when country music was about your wife leaving you with your dog and truck and all you've got now is a bottle of whiskey. Now it's just Fox News with a steel guitar. Every country single that gets shit out about headlines makes me think about Willie Nelson's role in Wag the Dog. I can't believe that movie came out before W's reign of terror. Seems less political satire now and more of an instructional video. Watching Wag the Dog today is like watching Star Wars right after the fucking Death Star blew up Earth. |
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| One Mom, Two Sons, Red Mom, Blue Sons |
[Nov. 17th, 2004|09:14 am] |
In the preamble to the election, my mommy sent me plenty of red email forwards. It's the mommy email way in this age, they send forwards more than they actually write to you, but still complain you never call them. Since moving from republican upstate New York suburbia to retirement mecca Florida, I'm sure her exposure to the smug propaganda of our sore-winners administration has increased.
And whenever she'd send me something saying Kerry wanted to burn your bible and pocket your social security check and build low income all-gay terrorist housing in your backyard, I tried to reply as honestly and informatively as humanly possible. I sent her articles and websites and explained my case, sometimes very articulately if I do say so myself.
Then the election. I haven't talked to them since then. My folks took a trip back up to NY for a friend's retirement party or some such shindig. We're not much of phone people, so it's no concern to go weeks and weeks without talking, but today I get another email forward. Some shit about a cruise to Afghanistan for all the Hollywood Stars who vowed to leave the country if Bush got a second term, with Bill Clinton as the captain and Monica Lewinski as the activities coordinator.
I failed to see the humor in it. How can you reason with someone who thinks Monica Lewinski is still funny material when 105,000 Iraqis are dead (the Darfur GENOCIDE has claimed only 70,000 people; think about it, read that over and over again until you fucking puke)? The new Secretary of State has an oil tanker named after her, the new Attorney General thinks international law is 'quaint' and widely open to interpretation, but did you hear the one about Dukakis and Lewinski and the Gettysburg Address? Man, that was fucking hilarious.
I just don't know how to respond anymore, to my mother, to the other 59 million Clinton joke telling ignorants out there. It's become clear to me that we just don't speak the same language anymore. They all can keep forwarding the one about how many democrats it takes to run up a world record deficit, and I'll just sit here, patting them on the head, and waiting for the collapse. The only solace I can take is that somehow, someway, Bush will get caught, he will be tried for warcrimes, he will be impeached, and he will be publicly shamed for the entire world to see. When that happens, I won't say "I told you so" to anyone, I'll just finally exhale, and welcome my fellow Americans back to America. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 12th, 2004|02:44 pm] |
(11-12) 13:47 PST WASHINGTON (AP) --
Federal judges are jeopardizing national security by issuing rulings contradictory to President Bush's decisions on America's obligations under international treaties and agreements, Attorney General John Ashcroft said Friday.
Ashcroft had prepared a song he wrote on the supreme authority of our Lord and Savior Jesus W. Bush, but was stopped before he started singing by Mrs. Worthington's sixth grade social studies class who pointed out that the government of the United States was based on a checks and balances system.
A clearly enraged ex-Attorney General immediately had the class deported to Cuba's School for the Moderately Literate indefinitely without bail or legal counsel while an independent investigation was carried out by high ranking Klan members into whether the Ten Commandments had any information on "all this checks and balances hooey." No child was left behind. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 10th, 2004|09:10 am] |
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www.sorryeverybody.com |
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| BULLSHIT |
[Nov. 9th, 2004|03:18 pm] |
(11-09) 15:06 PST WASHINGTON (AP) --
Attorney General John Ashcroft and Commerce Secretary Don Evans resigned Tuesday, the first members of President Bush's Cabinet to leave as he headed from re-election into his second term.
Ashcroft, in a five-page, handwritten letter to Bush, said, "The objective of securing the safety of Americans from crime and terror has been achieved."
Ashcroft then ate a slightly seasoned live fetus whole and used the Bill of Rights as a napkin. |
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| Happy Frankday |
[Nov. 8th, 2004|01:43 pm] |
Today is Frank Policastro's birthday, or more specifically, the anniversary thereof. The actual date of his birth was long ago. Frank was born at a very early age to a woman and man who turned out conveniently to be his parents. A bunch of time passed in which nothing terribly important happened to Frank aside from getting taller and learning to drink without spilling much. When I met and befriended the manchild, he was an aspiring sex god at a nearly all-boys school called RPI. I started hanging out with his school's chapter of the fraternity I had joined in Florida because I was a very lonely man and sought the latently homosexual companionship offered by such fraternal organizations. The majority of the RPI chapter of Pi Kappa Phi recognized me for the complete douchebag I am, but not Frank. It wasn't so much that he saw past my flaws as it was I didn't give him a choice as to whether he'd have to hang out with me. Verily, I accompanied him whilst doing his laundry for some fucking reason, where he enlightened me with ancient family laundering secrets, which I can't divulge here, since they're secret. Franklin Polifatso enjoyed wine, women and song, sometimes right in front of me. He dated a lovely girl everyone named Tubesox, and received much crap for dating her, though not from me, since I had designs on stealing her from him (which is not true, but I would've banged her). As Francis grew older and upward and outward, he rose to power as king of Schwampland. Here he fisted with an iron ruler, or something like that. I recieved Schwampland's highest honor when I cleared a six footer and got to scribble my name on his wall. Fidel PoliCastro is salt of the earth, a real stand-up guy even when he's sitting. I would tell you about the times I remember, but we were really drunk those times, and so, I don't remember them so much. I think there was some cider once, and some peeing off castles another time, and some shuffleboard, and then there was drugs. I'm only guessing though, and those memories could have nothing to do with his royal Frankness. Maybe I'm thinking of that other guy...
Happy Burfday Frank! |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 8th, 2004|01:02 pm] |
I pledge allegiance
To the King
Of the Un-tied States of America
and to the Republicans
For which it stands
A nation under one God
Divided, with power and money
For straight WASPs |
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| I was wrong; I hate you |
[Nov. 3rd, 2004|09:39 am] |
I was wrong. I can admit it now, I've seen the light.
This isn't a progressive country of freedom. This is an oppressive country of hate. That's how we were founded, and we've come nowhere.
I was naïve and stupid. I allowed the unrealistic noble ideals of my liberal city to infect my mind and make me want freedom and sanity for all. I bought into the drum beating and the pursuit of happiness and the liberty and justice for all, when all I should've focused on was Under God.
But I'm putting that all behind me. My fellow countrymen have spoken, and I will not be deaf to their call. I will toe the American line, I will be uber-American, I will stand with the counted, I will volunteer to lead blonde, blue eyed Bush Youth into a new millennium of American Imperialism with my head held high.
It's all so clear to me now. I was wasting my time giving two shits about faces I'd never seen, in bullshit backwoods banjo towns I'd never been to. They don't want my bleeding heart, they'd prefer I kept my hugging to trees and let Jesus H. Christ look over them like he always has and always will.
No more though. I'm on the right side of the tracks. I have the hate now, I have been baptized in the hate and ignorance and I'm ready to serve George W. Bush's country to whatever end. I read our history and realized Bushco was a foregone conclusion. The masses have spoken and the word is hate. I hate. I hate the faggots and niggers and wetbacks and towelheads and hippies and lesbos and babykillers and treehuggers and chinks and slopes and injuns and the diseased and handicapped and the young and the old and the poor and the English language and Jews and Muslims and especially the fucking French.
It doesn't matter that I've walked and talked and laughed and drank and had good times with faggots and niggers and wetbacks and towelheads and hippies and lesbos and babykillers, those were just the 'good ones.' It doesn't matter that without the French, I'd be asking God to save the Queen and be drinking tea and have bad teeth. You're either with us, or against us (and by "with us," I mean "me;" and by "against us," I mean "not me").
Such an ass I was to believe things mattered. 9/11 wasn't the issue. The home of that attack voted for Kerry. What the fuck do New Yorker's know about anything? This isn't about war or government or the economy or health care or social security. Washington D.C. voted for Kerry. What the fuck does Washington know about politics?
This is about God. God created man in his own image, and that image is white and male and healthy and wealthy. God is powerful and hateful and vengeful and doesn't need your permission to send thousands and thousands and thousands of heathens to their grave. God has a plan, and it doesn't involve jobs or medicine or facts or accountability or freedom or the future, and not one fucking iota of love. God's plan is simple. All you need is a community college, a Bible, a coathanger, an automatic weapon, and maybe another Bible just for safe keeping. This is his plan, and you're either with it, or you're unAmerican.
And here's my warning, to all you unAmerican liberal faggot terrorists: It's coming. The wrath is coming. God's in the White House, the Senate, the House. God will be appointed to a lifelong throne in the Supreme Court. The Judgment is coming, and you will all be against the wall in turn. In fact, this isn't a warning, this is a promise, this is my fucking platform. |
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| I should know better |
[Oct. 27th, 2004|10:33 am] |
After reading Mark Morford's column today, I spent most of the morning perusing various sites regarding the events of 9/11. Over coffee, I examined photos of the Pentagon attack, and the fairly clear lack of a 757 airliner. I watched the videos of the WTC collapse and saw the pretty blatant demolition wave like you see in controlled sky scraper removal. I read about the physics of kerosene and commercial airplanes and impacts and concrete and steel. I read about how almost half of the 19 hijackers came out after 9/11 and said "Well, actually, we weren't on those planes, as somewhat evidenced by our not being charred masses of rubble currently." I read how the senators targeted by the anthrax letters were also coincidentally the ones who opposed the Patriot Act, which eventually got passed without anyone reading it, or it even having been printed at the time.
And here's where my anger is, where it comes from. I feel like the whole thing just happened again, I feel like it's that morning again, but instead of being angry at anonymous bearded men from far away, and instead of being angry at rich white men smoking cigarettes in dimly lit rooms, I'm just angry at the information. It's past the time for me to want a face to blame, I just want to feel like I have a grasp on something close to the truth. I want to tell Jack Nicholson that it's not the truth I can't handle, it's the thinking I'll never know one way or the other.
http://www.911review.org/index.shtml
http://www.physics911.org/911/
http://www.public-action.com/911/4flights.html
http://home.earthlink.net/~flight77/pentalawn.html |
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