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What a liar!

 
 
Reply Sat 22 Mar, 2008 07:34 pm
George W during his 2000 campaign touted his compassion by 'not leaving a child behind'. Of course, he didn't care for the children's parents as he left a lot of them behind in New Orleans' flooded homes; Iraq's desert and dusty roads loaded with hidden road side bombs; Afghanistan and on America's bridges as well in homes that were sub-primed. This man is an abomination yet McCain, a war hero, embraced him thus submitting his credentials as a man of character to that of an opportunist to gain the big prize of the White House.

The Bush Adminstration in many ways mirror the Nazi Regime of Adolph Hitler as his Goebbels was Karl Roverer and his Goering a pilot made head of the Luftwaffe, was Donald Rumsfeld a flight instructor who dodged Korea yet made a mess of Iraq.

So does military service make a credible man of war. In WWI, Hitler was a corporal and Goering was a pilot when in WWII, the former became Commander-in-Chief of the German military and the latter the head of the Luftwaffe, their combined interference was a disaster for the Germans. Goering failed to provide fighters for his bombers and Hitler repeatedly interfered with his generals so much so that they planned to assassinate him. It was General Guderian, General Erwin Rommel and another General von 'something or other' who were the architects of the successful German takeover of France and Europe. Guderian was the father of the blitzkrieg while the General von 'something or other' planned the Ardennes route while Erwin Rommel saved the day when he in desperation used anti-aircraft guns against the French slow to re-arm two-man tanks. Rumsfeld never served on the ground so he knows not what he deals with and Cheney dodged Vietnam but was a great schemer as he was the one who drew up plans for the attack in both Gulf wars, the first as Defense Secretary and second as VP and former oilman with a map of the oilfields of Iraq. He too never served on the ground and war to him were maps attack routes and video war games.

McCain was a pilot but could be an effective Commander-in-Chief or would be like Goering, Hitler, Rumsfeld and Cheney?
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Type: Discussion • Score: 0 • Views: 589 • Replies: 9
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Ramafuchs
 
  1  
Reply Sat 22 Mar, 2008 08:58 pm
Kathleen Hall Jamieson has been negotiating the space between image and reality in American political campaigns for years — from deciphering the overt and hidden messages of campaign ads to fact-checking stump speeches.

Find out more about how the Internet has changed the face of elections, review the colorful history of campaign ads, learn how to fact check the candidates and explore the world of women and politics using the resources below

http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/12072007/profile2.html
0 Replies
 
talk72000
 
  1  
Reply Sun 23 Mar, 2008 11:08 pm
The problem in America is that public institutions are under attack and there is public spirit any more. There is no public news media like the BBC, CBC that is financed publicly for the public good. The infrastructure is being ignored till there is a collapse like in Minneapolis. The elections are dependent on privately run TV and radio stations that charge a lot for advertising political messages when these stations should be benevolent by having a set number of hours for public discourse free of charge.
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paull
 
  1  
Reply Mon 24 Mar, 2008 08:37 pm
I clicked on this thread thinking you were talking about Hillary's Bosnia lies. Sorry.
0 Replies
 
talk72000
 
  1  
Reply Wed 26 Mar, 2008 09:09 pm
Everyone lies to an extent. The bigger the lie the more it is believed unfortunately. The 'compassionate conservative' is one of those big lies.
0 Replies
 
Ramafuchs
 
  1  
Reply Thu 27 Mar, 2008 04:57 pm
Talk
excuse me please.
about the lie I had posted and deleted a thread which had attracted/arressted the attention of 14 participants of A2 K.
Here is the American who speaks Rama Fuchs Sprache/ language.


"Lies take on a life of their own. They take wing... can soar, dive and
hover, can mate in air like dragon flies, and, like those flying-****
insects, they will devour their mate. Then: Eggs are laid, gestates
occurs, and a new generation of lies swarms forth into the delusional air.
This is all well and good, but, after a while, an earnest liar expects
more of himself and of his lies.

I know this, because I am a lie. Saying this is the closest I can come to
not telling one. I have experimented with the truth from time to time: It
did not take: I did not get hired, laid, nor was I even remotely liked,
much less even mildly tolerated by others for the effort. The phone
stopped ringing, folks quit dropping by, I got lousy service in
restaurants, grocery store cashiers bruised my produce, my landlord
refused to renew my lease, and my family cut me from the will. I've
learned my lesson: I'll never pull that stunt again. I do, after all, have
some sense of shame.

I have learned truth can be an ugly thing: Repulsive as a hunchback bell
ringer; unsightly as hairs that sprout from inappropriate areas of the
anatomy; repellent as the stench of a dead rat decomposing between the
walls.... This stench can lead to where the bodies are buried -- but the
exhumation is anything but pleasant. Do we have any volunteers to dig up
those truths we buried years ago? No, then let's not disturb their rest;
there is little chance they will rise like flesh-eating, b-movie ghouls.
This is the real world -- and it will remain that way as long it is largely
populated by lies.

Here: We arrive at the ill-defined borderline where the wilderness of our
lies merge with suburbs of our self-deception and then proceed upward to
the shining city on the hill of out-and-out delusion.

Hence, the conspiracy theory of my unknowable motives: Hidden within my
mind are secret chambers that hide the bodies of dead aliens; my mind
contains hidden sniper nests where assassins perch; it is a city of
intrigue where cabalists plot and sharpen their swords; here, in my head,
resides an unfathomable alliance of propagandists and dupes, schemers and
patsies who covertly thrive and languish. I point to a grassy knoll when
you ask me what happened to my life. Lee Harvey Oswald took a bullet to
the gut fired by my hair-trigger denial. The Warren Commission of my
sanctioned self-awareness tries to explain that there is less to my life
than meets the eye.

Only the most unhinged outsiders, sleepless cranks, hard-drinking
expatriates, and all the rest of their
ill-suited-to-the-everyday-useful-delusions-of-coping ilk know the truth
about me. They scrawl fervid letters to the editors of the respectable
news sources of my waking life. The letters are given a dismissive glance
by harried interns then are cast into the trash. But still these missives
miss the point, regardless of the sincere insanity of their intentions.

The truth may be unapproachable: not in the sense of a cordon sanitaire
that exists around those who have immense power and carry its attendant
secrets; rather, they consist of the variety of lie that allows us to live
(provisionally) in our own skins. Now, I would never make the claim that
these are comfortable accommodations: They are cramped, stuffy,
windowless, poorly lit rooms where I pace in perpetual agitation until I
collapse on my battered mattress and curl into a sodden heap. There: I
jerk off like a caged monkey; I chew my fur like a neurotic dog; I am as
banal as Eichmann calculating the weight capacities of boxcars.

Still, I know that something essential has fled -- has been lost like a
seductive dream to an insistent alarm clock, has been diminished like an
exquisite song that has been appropriated for a commercial jingle. A
hopeful school girl has become an embittered crone. The soil of
possibility has been sown with salt.

All around me, the world is clamorous with the prattling of pushy
ignoramuses like myself: Each chanting, "I, me, mine." Everywhere, black
magicians of consumerism cast their incantations, dangling shiny objects in
front of us overgrown infants and mall-meandering imbeciles who have yet
to develop the ability to differentiate the distinction between "I want"
and "I need." All I care to know about that subject is: If I do learn it,
what's in it for me?

Now, wars are fought for our instant gratification. It's all about my
comfort level. Bombs are dropped like anti-depressants: I feel much better
now, thank you: The bombs may have even possibly landed upon those distant
strangers who were causing me such internal distress. But if they happen
to blast to shreds the wrong people, oh well, we can always try again: We
have many more bombs.

In this way, I'm hoping to transform the crumbling flophouse that I have
erected from the flimsy material of my own shabby lies into an
impenetrable fortress of collective delusion. But I cannot do it alone;
alone my lies are nothing, a whimpered prayer mouthed into a roaring
windstorm -- but, I'm certain, that together, we can construct a new
dwelling place, a walled city which will exist beyond all harm. And we
must build it, brick by brick, lie by lie: this is the stuff that empires
are made of.
http://www.swans.com/library/art9/procks01.html
New world order= Papa Bush( one time occupant of White house)
what is New?
which world?
what kind of order?
The two time approved son had answered.
0 Replies
 
Ramafuchs
 
  1  
Reply Thu 27 Mar, 2008 05:55 pm
Talk tell me about lie.
Are Indian's ( Asian's)not truth-seekers?

All USA's citizens are cultureless contangerous,conporate consumers?
I am a communist and i will visit hell where I find a better USA
0 Replies
 
hanno
 
  1  
Reply Fri 28 Mar, 2008 02:28 pm
Platitudes baby!

(Thanks Mr. McCain)
0 Replies
 
Ramafuchs
 
  1  
Reply Fri 28 Mar, 2008 03:02 pm
Hanno
here is the definition my my dictionary

Devil's Dictionary: platitude
A cynical view of the world by Ambrose Bierce


n.

The fundamental element and special glory of popular literature. A thought that snores in words that smoke. The wisdom of a million fools in the diction of a dullard. A fossil sentiment in artificial rock. A moral without the fable. All that is mortal of a departed truth. A demi-tasse of milk-and-mortality. The Pope's-nose of a featherless peacock. A jelly-fish withering on the shore of the sea of thought. The cackle surviving the egg. A desiccated epigram.
0 Replies
 
Ramafuchs
 
  1  
Reply Sat 29 Mar, 2008 04:15 pm
Hanno
a simple question.
Do you think there is a civil, decent constitution in usa after Bush family's regime.
Let me get clarfication about your noble country's constitution devoid of lie.
0 Replies
 
 

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