Wednesday, July 26, 2006

LBJ meets FDR


click photograph to enlarge

Congressman Lyndon Johnson is gladhanding President Roosevelt. In the middle is Texas Governor Allred. When LBJ would haul out this photo for use in later campaigns, he would have the Governor airbrushed from the photo, creating an intimate moment between FDR and Representative Johnson. Roosevelt's expression (this is, surprise, entirely conjectural on my part) seems to say "now. . .just who the f*** is this guy anyhow?"

S0me other recent LBJ appearances on All This Is That:

Lyndon listening in on the war
LBJ and Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King meet up
LBJ howls like a dog
Another good LBJ photo
And another. . .
One of Jack's heroes and villains paintings
LBJ In A Characteristic Pose
Running Mates: Senators Lyndon Johnson And JFK
The Johnson Treatment, Part 6: The Hump and Senator Russell get the treatment
The Johnson Treatment, Part 5: Senator Richard Russell (Dem., Georgia) Undergoes The Treatment
The Johnson Treatment, Part 4: President Johnson Gives The Treatment To Supreme Court Justice Abe Fortas
---o0o---

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Drawing: The lost ones - Pt. 15, sooner or later

Paranoia strikes deep: The infamous George Dahl letter

Upon returning to New York I began looking for a place to live. I looked at around ten apartments and called to inquire about several others. Since the secret police had already selected and prepared an apartment for me this proved to be a futile endeavor. I signed a two-year lease for apartment twenty-four at 620 East 11th Street and moved to the building in November. The apartment provides me with a place to live but it also provides the secret police with a living environment they control. The building where I live, the surrounding buildings and the neighborhood serve as a theatrical set; and the "tenants" of my building, neighborhood characters, and intelligence agents stage a theatrical production. Controlling the immediate neighborhood is a security measure and it allows maximum freedom of action for staging operations. The building I live in is connected to four other buildings; when I look out my only window with a "view" (one window is boarded up and three others face an interior light well) I see the back of a row of buildings on 10th Street. These buildings form a unit that is flanked by three empty lots. the secret police use these nine buildings for staging operations and own some or all of them. The buildings may have been purchased but it is very likely that they were acquired from the City of New York through Mayor Koch. The city government owns many buildings in the area due to non-payment of taxes and abandonment. I believe most of these buildings have no tenants or caretaker tenants. The two largest buildings were being renovated when I moved to my apartment and appeared to be almost tenantless until the summer of 1982. Either they acquired tenants that summer or the secret police expended a greater effort to make them seem inhabited. The two buildings were renovated at a minimum cost of $500,000 each, so even if all the other buildings were acquired from the city, the secret police spent over one million dollars to provide me with a $115.00 a month slum apartment. ...

The basic strategy of the secret police is to be everpresent; at all times and in all places they make themselves an intrusive, oppressive and inescapable presence. They involve themselves in every detail of my life and are present everywhere I go. At first I dismissed the strategy of being everpresent as silly game-playing, but the intelligence agents responsible for planning operations clearly intended their use of thousands of collaborators to be a form of non-violent harassment; a psychological assault designed to have a negative psychological effect. Being everpresent is intended to be more of an invasion of consciousness than an invasion of privacy. Being everpresent is used as a means for stealing reality, and thus the ability to function normally in a real world. The secret police have imposed upon me a substitute reality; they have dismembered and appropriated the real world and placed me in a labyrinth of intelligence operations. It is difficult to relate to and impossible to adjust to the artificial, arbitrary and hostile living environment the secret police have created. By being everpresent they try to turn the most commonplace life experiences and the activities of daily life into a maze-like obstacle course and to make the living of everyday life a frustrating, unnatural and disorienting experience. Since secret police operations began I usually made a note of a detail or incident only if it stood out as unusually intrusive, offensive or bizarre. Sometimes I kept daily accounts of every aspect of secret police operations and listed every encounter with an agent or collaborator. Basing an estimate on the days and weeks when I counted agents and collaborators, and acknowledging that the nature and intensity of operations has changed over the years, I believe that a minimum of forty thousand American citizens have participated in secret police operations since they began in 1977. It is a curious reversal of everything this country has ever stood for that two Presidents, many of their closest associates and supporters, and personnel of law enforcement agencies now constitute the single largest group of citizens engaged in organized criminal activity.

I am followed everywhere partly as a security measure but also because it is necessary to know where I am at all times in order to conduct secret police operations. At any given moment several intelligence agents work together choreographing street theater and surveillance operations. Agents and collaborators follow me on foot and in vehicles; while maintaining radio contact, they pass me on like a relay team passes on a baton. Most of the surveillance agents appear to have been recruited from the FBI and the New York City Police Department. After observing my behavior and interests for over five years it is not hard for intelligence agents to predict when I am likely to go out and where I am likely to go. Whenever I leave my apartment I encounter intelligence agents, collaborators, and a theatrical production stage managed by the secret police. After several years this provocative annoyance has come to seem rather like running the gauntlet; a form of military punishment in which an individual is made to run between two rows of men who strike at him as he passes by. While descending the stairs from my apartment I usually meet one or more of the "tenants" trying hard to look as if they live in the building or staging a scene for me to observe. As I left the building one afternoon two fat men stood with their backs against opposite sides of the narrow first floor hall so that I had to turn sideways and step between them. Frequently groups of men are standing or sitting on the stoop when I go out or come in; sometimes blocking the steps so that I have to ask them to move. Several times a week one or more collaborators walk by me just as I step outside. On days when it is felt some special intimidation is necessary a police car will drive by as I go out and again as I come home. When I go out I almost always head west, walking through the intersection of 11th Street and Avenue B. Since I then might head in any of three directions, this is the only place that operations can be planned for with near certainty that I will enter into the staged scene. The secret police operations I encounter at this intersection are usually more elaborately detailed and choreographed than they are elsewhere, and it is very likely there are hidden cameras. There are usually twice as many people around this intersection as at any other in the neighborhood, frequently from ten to twenty people. A corner with a hardware store, a sometimes open grocery store and two abandoned buildings is not likely to be a favorite neighborhood hangout yet there are often groups of Puerto Rican and black men standing around. Often one or more collaborators will be placed on each corner so that the only way I can avoid them is to walk in the street. As I approach the intersection, a signal is given and people, most of whom are young men, start crossing the intersection from every direction; people walking on the sidewalks, boys riding by on bikes, and other people driving by in cars. Intelligence agents frequently use this kind of collaborator saturation placement at other intersections. This operational technique became obvious when several times, after having gone through intersections that were inexplicably busy, I stopped to count the number of people and vehicles that moved through the intersection during the next few minutes.

The majority of collaborators have been involved in one basic situation; a male child or a handsome young man (sometimes an ordinary looking or older man) presents himself to be looked at while other people observe me. Presumably, if I look at the conspicuously displayed bait the observer-witnesses claim to have seen proof of sexual interest or an attempted seduction. Within this basic situation the secret police have devised a relatively limited repertoire of scenes but with infinite variations. The actors have basic roles and patterns of interaction; it is somewhat like watching the same play over and over but each time with a new cast. A few thousand such scenes were staged to create incidents that could be used to discredit me, to manufacture "evidence" that I was immoral, and to make a fictitious propaganda portrait of me seem to be true. More time and effort have been invested in staging such scenes than in any other single aspect of secret police operations. Intelligence agents made such encounters the centerpiece of their operations because political leaders found that making an issue of homosexuality was their most effective means of gaining political support for a criminal conspiracy. Every system of morality, whether based on religious beliefs or philosophical principles, is concerned with the difference between right and wrong. Without defining what is right and what is wrong, everyone can nevertheless agree that morality is a hierarchical system; there are greater and lesser evils and there are greater and lesser goods. It is a wildly distorted sense of morality that considers two human beings expressing sexual desire or love for each other degenerate and immoral while considering a political conspiracy to violate a citizen's constitutional rights, the creation of an illegal domestic secret police, the police-state tactics of intelligence agents, and the suspension of the country's system of government by the rule of law, to be matters of no importance. ...

On Tuesday, September 8, I left my apartment around 3:30 intending to pay my Con Edison bill. Just as I stepped out of the building, a car that was waiting a few feet from me, pulled away from the curb accelerating rapidly, "burning rubber" as if it were in a drag race. The secret police frequently set up similar incidents as a distraction; I believe the screeching tires and the brazen display of contempt were intended to induce angry thoughts that would preoccupy me and influence my behavior. As I walked to the Con Edison office at 4 Irving Place I counted sixteen collaborators engaged in street theater; the next day I encountered at least twenty. At the Con Edison office I looked in the window; the office was unusually crowded and the bill-paying line seemed suspiciously long. I was generally apprehensive about entering a trap, so I decided to come back the next day. I left my apartment around 3:05 P.M. on Wednesday. Walking across 14th Street, I looked at every newsstand for a copy of the New York Times so that I would have something to read while waiting in line. Over a two year period I frequently bought or saw papers late in the afternoon at the various newsstands; it is highly unlikely they would have all been sold out. I believe intelligence agents asked the newspaper sellers to hide the papers so that I would have nothing to do while waiting except to observe the planned operation. Inside the main floor customer service office, intelligence agents placed a minimum of twenty-five people and it seemed as if all the employees had been given some sort of briefing and were participating in secret police operations. I joined the bill-paying line, there were around ten people in line and as I approached two young men placed themselves directly ahead of me in the line. Within a few minutes around fifteen more people lined up behind me. There were five bill paying windows. While I waited in line the clerks closed their windows until only one window was left open for customer service. The four people in front of me all went to the same window. I believe this was a delaying tactic to keep me in the office for a longer period of time. While waiting in line the secret police operation being staged was very obvious. Seven young men presented themselves to be looked at and a man and a woman each walked by me twice staring holes through me. The situation reminded me of the movie "The Sting." Sting operations are frequently used by law enforcement agencies; police agents create and operate fictitious companies as a means of entrapment. In this case intelligence agents set up an elaborate but thinly disguised covert operation within the office of a legitimate business. A few weeks earlier I found myself surrounded by game-playing collaborators in a line at my bank. I became angry and denounced them for participating in secret police operations. I believe intelligence agents chose to restage a similar scene in Con Edison's offices hoping to elicit the same or a similar response; an angry outburst that could be used as "proof" that through paranormal powers I had somehow triggered the transformer malfunction and resulting blackout. I was in the Con Edison office about ten minutes, from approximately 3:20 to 3:30; the power failure began at 3:24. I believe intelligence agents committed an act of sabotage timed to coincide with the provocative secret police operation being staged in Con Edison's office. The secret police involved at least forty people, many of them Con Edison employees, in staging their scene in Con Edison's office. Although these people were intended to witness an angry outburst they were also witnesses to the fact that intelligence agents were expending a great deal of effort to manufacture an incident. ...
---o0o---

Drawing: The lost ones - Pt. 16, the willies


click drawing to enlarge

I am a fraud. Everything you know about me is a lie. I can never tell the truth when a lie is close at hand. The lies multiply logarthmically. The best part is keeping the intertwined lies straight. It's my game, sorting out who I told when, and who they know who heard another version.

---o0o---

Bush resigns



I don't know who made this. I found it, in three different places, all uncredited.

Monday, July 24, 2006

"I would love to kill George Bush"

Betty Williams is just a touch more bellicose than your average Nobel Peace Prize Laureate. Yesterday, she ripped into US President George W. Bush during a speech to hundreds of schoolchildren.

Campaigning for the rights of young people at a forum in Brisbane, Australia, Ms Williams spoke about children killled during wartime.

"I have a very hard time with this word 'non-violence', because I don't believe that I am non-violent," said Ms Williams, 64.

"Right now, I would love to kill George Bush."

Her young audience at the Brisbane City Hall clapped and cheered. Click on the link in the first paragraph for more details. . .but, hey, I gave you the good part.
---o0o---

Painting: President George W.Bush does a face plant on the world stage at the G8 meetings


Click image to enlarge

A portrait of the President's speech at G8. As Maureen Dowd wrote in a recent column:

"In snippets of overheard conversation, Mr. Bush says he has not bothered to prepare any closing remarks and grouses about having to listen to other world leaders talk too long. What did he think being president was about?

"The world may be blowing up, and the president may have a rare opportunity to jaw-jaw about bang-bang with his peers, but that pales in comparison with his burning desire to return to his feather pillow and gym back at the White House.

“Gotta go home,’’ he tells the guy next to him. “Got something to do tonight. Go to the airport, get on the airplane and go home.”

It was indeed time to go home, following the highly publicized open mike eipisode. . .not to mention his ill-considered attempt to give Chancellor Merkel a backrub...
---o0o---

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Alien Lore No. 82 - The gay grey


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I don't know where this story comes from--I bet it's from the Weekly World News. It has their smarmy stylistic feel ("It didn't seem to me like a manly thing to be doing") . I couldn't find it in their archives, but it may be older. . .

Stunned Farmer Comes Face-To-Face With. . . THE PANSY FROM PLANET X!

LEXINGTON, Ky. -- For the third time in as many weeks, a gay space alien has tried to seduce a male human! This time, the terrified recipient of the unwanted advances was a Kentucky farmer who describes the incident as "the most sickening and disturbing" of his life.

"He looked like a regular Earth man but he walked with these prissy little steps and swished his shoulders back and forth," says 38-year-old James Swaise of the May 17 encounter.

"He landed in the south meadow in a little round spacecraft just big enough for one person. He got out and started mincing up to where me, my family and six of farmhands were working.

"He had something in his right hand and at first I thought it might be a ray gun or something. But as he got closer, I saw that it was a bunch of wild flowers he had picked from my field. He kept putting them up to his nose and sniffing them.




"It didn't seem to me like a manly thing to be doing.

"When he got close enough, we saw he wasn't really human. His skin was an off-green color and his arms were longer than a regular person's. They came down almost to his knees.

"There were eight other men there, my two sons -- 18 and 19 -- and my six employees. But the alien seemed to zero in on me.

"Without saying anything, he came over in front of me and did a girlish, mincing little dance for me.

"He tried to give me the flowers but I wouldn't take them. Then he put his filthy hands on me and tried to bring his lips up to mine. He kept putting his hands on me and I kept pushing them off.

"Finally, I got mad and punched him hard in the face. It didn't seem to hurt him
physically, but he hung his head down and started making these whimpering, sobbing noises.

"Then he just walked back to his UFO, got in and took off."

Authorities have interviewed all nine witnesses -- Swaise, his two sons and the six farmhands. All tell the same story.

One of the workers even made a sketch that portrays the effeminate humanoid
with a baffled Swaise looking on.

UFO experts say that although close encounters with extraterrestrials are
commonplace, up until recently, reports of homosexual E.T.s have been extremely rare. The other two incidents -- one reported in Bogota, Colombia, the other in Paris -- occurred on May 1 and May 10 respectively.
---o0o---

Beautiful women, above average children


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A group photo from the Curran Reunion last week in Montana. The ages--this time--spanned from 83 to 2. The women are all beautiful and the children all above average!
---o0o---

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Drawing: The lost ones - Pt. 14, the willies

Click image to enlarge

Who
what
when
where
why?

I'm still sorting it out and there are roads and byways yet to explore. Half the fun is the chase.

I'm not lost yet.
---o0o---

Friday, July 21, 2006

Repeal the 2nd Amendment

The right to bear arms made sense in the 18th Century --for our defense, and to prevent the rise of absolute monarchs. Today we don't rely on a militia to defend the country internally. Tyranny would involve spying and suppression, rather than firearms. The second amendment was created as the last great stand against tyranny. The second amendment is now a pointless and devastating license to kill.

Last week guns, and someone bearing them, killed two family friends on Mount Pilchuck. Mary Cooper and Susanna Stodden--wife and daughter of my daughter's long time premiere soccer coach, were murdered while they were out hiking. These were good people, northwesterners that spent their lives in the outdoors hiking the mountains. They worked for charities. They were loved by many. And someone with a gun took their lives. I won't go back over all the tired and shopworn arguments for freedom of gun ownership. Maybe I take it personally. These deaths, the two times I was held up at gunpoint in New York City, and all of the senseless killings between these events are argument enough for me.

The right to bear arms is a "freedom" I am ready to surrender. I am a pretty strict constitutionalist, but it is time, alas, for us to give up this freedom and by giving up this freedom, we may discover, as Kris Kristoferson wrote, that "freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." By losing this particular freedom, we just might find ourselves truly untethered and find that freedom from guns is freedom indeed.
---o0o---

Drawing: The lost ones - Pt. 13, the winds of mercy


Click drawing to enlarge

"It wasn't me, but I could never prove it. I had no evidence I didn't do it; they had no evidence I actually had. The lack of evidence was inconsequential and the finding of guilt was a foregone conclusion. The winds of mercy were blowing in the wrong direction."

---o0o---