countdown to 11/22/13: JFK disinfo in multi-media

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like, seemingly dreamy

Postby IanEye » Thu Apr 27, 2017 9:17 pm

Norman "Hurricane" Smith! The many talents of Loudon Wainwright III! The return of John Fred & His Playboy Band! And the strange origin of "Dancing in the Moonlight"!

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Re: countdown to 11/22/13: JFK disinfo in multi-media

Postby MinM » Thu Apr 27, 2017 10:20 pm

Who woulda thought that Mama's Family's Vicki Lawrence was more subversive than Cher?

That’s the night that the lights went out in Georgia
That’s the night that they killed an innocent man
Well, don’t trust your soul to no backwoods, southerly lawyer
‘Cos the judge in the town’s got blood stains on his hands

Vicki Lawrence, 1973
Image ... rgia/26753
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Re: countdown to 11/22/13: JFK disinfo in multi-media

Postby Spiro C. Thiery » Fri Apr 28, 2017 5:00 am

JackRiddler wrote:
Philip Shenon wrote:Historians agree that the trip, which Oswald apparently undertook in hopes of obtaining a visa to defect to Castro’s Cuba, much as he had once tried to defect to the Soviet Union, has never been fully investigated.

Besides the laughable unidentified "Historians agree" and "has never been 'fully' investigated," how can you be on the beat for like 20 years and so badly mangle the details of something everyone who cares knows? Seriously.

Anyway. Release of 3600 documents scheduled for October, unless Trump objects. ... les-215079

From the comments:

This is the angle the Warren Commission was tasked with making it look like they were trying to hide. This is the angle they have been spinning consistently as background to their ostensible conviction of a lone gunman: to eventually "uncover" the truth that this "Duplessis" in the comments thinks is "not the most implausible" theory. I have very little faith that any documents eventually released will reveal that which leads to another conclusion. But if for some reason it does during Trump's term, it will be attributed to just more Russian subterfuge. Bottom line is: everything the CIA claims is true, is true. That is evidence enough.
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Seeing the world through rose-colored latex.
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Re: In Russia, podcast listens to you!

Postby MinM » Tue May 02, 2017 6:23 pm

Curiouser and curiouser.....
Hollywood Reporter‏Verified account @THR May 1

New police reports shed light on Ronni Chasen murder case

IanEye » Wed Apr 26, 2017 5:11 am wrote:Dave Anthony used to have a podcast called “Walking The Room”. Now, he has a podcast called "The Dollop”. Dave shills for a razor company with his son Finn, then he tells a guy named Gary about the time a bunch of cops went on strike in Boston.

Karen Kilgariff talks about how when she was lonely in New York City back in 2010 she used to listen to “Walking The Room”. Then, she talks about the murder of Ronni Chasen.

Comedian’s comedian Bruce Smirnoff talks about the first time he met Donald Trump on his way to a gig in Mar-A-Lago, and how he got to sit in the cockpit of a jet airliner during takeoff in 2002.


JFK propaganda is ramping up with the centennial and records release this year. Remain skeptical. Max Holland...

@thedailybeast Apr 29

Many Americans believe that JFK was assassinated as the result of some sort of conspiracy, perhaps even by the CIA

Max Holland has been thoroughly debunked by @jimmydie1963

Max Holland's Weird "Science" by @lisapease ... ience.html
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Re: countdown to 11/22/13: JFK disinfo in multi-media

Postby Iamwhomiam » Thu May 04, 2017 7:03 pm

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Ballad of the Green Berets

Postby MinM » Sat Sep 23, 2017 11:20 am



Recently I was listening to a program about Vietnam-era music on Music 101, a very interesting feature of a very interesting new public radio station in the Denver area. Thus I came to hear SSGT Barry Sadler sing The Ballad of the Green Berets, the #1 hit of the year 1966, per the American Billboard pop charts. Here are the lyrics:
Fighting soldiers from the sky
Fearless men who jump and die
Men who mean just what they say
The brave men of the Green Beret

Silver wings upon their chest
These are men, America’s best
One hundred men will test today
But only three win the Green Beret

Trained to live off nature’s land
Trained in combat, hand-to-hand
Men who fight by night and day
Courage peak from the Green Berets

Silver wings upon their chest
These are men, America’s best
One hundred men will test today
But only three win the Green Beret

Back at home a young wife waits
Her Green Beret has met his fate
He has died for those oppressed
Leaving her his last request

Put silver wings on my son’s chest
Make him one of America’s best
He’ll be a man they’ll test one day
Have him win the Green Beret.

That this unabashed paean to nationalistic militarism and the American invasion of Vietnam in particular was such a huge hit is a good reminder that the Vietnam war itself was very popular with the American public at the time: indeed, in August of 1965 — Sadler recorded the song in December — war supporters outnumbered opponents by nearly three to one.

I’m not quite old enough to remember the song when it was dominating the airwaves in March and April of 1966, but I heard it a couple or three times in the decades since, and this most recent encounter caused me to wonder what subsequently became of SSGT Barry Sadler.

Sadler was born in Novemnber 1940. His parents divorced when he was five, and his father died two years later at the age of 36, leaving Barry in the sole custody of his mother, who moved around the American west working a series of fringe jobs. They were living in Leadville, CO, in the mid-1950s — Leadville is the highest inhabited town of any size in the USA, and must have been an exceptionally isolated place at the time — when Sadler dropped out of the 10th grade, thus ending his formal education.

For the next couple of years he seems to have been more or less what in those days was called a juvenile delinquent, before he joined the Air Force at the age of 17. He spent some time in Japan as a radar tech, and then enlisted in the Army Airborne and Special Forces in 1962, shortly after his discharge from the Air Force. In later years the story he gave out was that he enlisted in the Army rather than re-upping with the USAF because the Air Force recruiter happened to be out of the office that day, so Sadler just went one door down to the Army recruiter. A lot of stories Sadler told after he got famous should be taken, like the margaritas which he drank like lemonade, with many grains of salt. (Much of Sadler’s life story until he joined the Green Berets bears an eerie resemblance to that of his almost exact contemporary, Lee Harvey Oswald, before Oswald defected to the Soviet Union)

Sadler opted to become a medic in the Special Forces, and spent five months in Vietnam before he was seriously wounded by a Punji stick while on patrol in May of 1965. He was then sent back to the States for treatment and recovery. During his convalescence, he began to try to write songs about his military experience. Sadler eventually wrote The Ballad of the Green Berets with some assistance from Robin Moore, the author of the novel The Green Berets, which formed the basis for the 1968 movie of the same name, starring John Wayne, a shamelessly warmongering script, and a sunset into the eastern Pacific.

The song became such a massive hit that the Army decided to send him around the country on publicity tours, which he hated. The brass were certainly not going to put their handsome and telegenic pop star in harm’s way again, and Sadler left the service in 1967. At that point the publishing industry thought it would be a good idea to offer the 25-year-old’s dictated life story, I’m A Lucky One, to the public. (The ruthlessness with which both the military and the entertainment industry exploited Sadler’s sudden popularity testifies to the extent to which the Vietnam war was, among many other things, a propagandistic money-making venture).

Sadler made a lot of money from his hit song and the album it was on. How much precisely is hard to nail down, but $500,000 seems like a reasonable estimate. (This would be nearly four million dollars in current money).

Sadler had gotten married in 1963 at the age of 22, and after leaving the military, he moved with his wife and two children to Tucson. He had a few bit parts in TV shows and one movie, and then quickly disappeared from the mainstream media consciousness.

By all rights that’s when this mildly interesting bit of social history should have exhausted its narrative potential, with Sadler becoming a salesman for the military division of Lockheed and settling down in Newport Beach or something. Instead, we are just getting started. Sadler opened up a bar in Tuscon, but proceeded to drink up all of his profit margin. (This is only a mild exaggeration. Everyone who knew him testifies to how prodigious Sadler’s feats of alcohol consumption were).

The then moved to Hollywood and started a movie production company with much of the remaining proceeds of the Ballad. This went about as well as you might expect, although he did meet a lot of interesting film industry people in area bars, drinking all of them under the table. He had a scheme to start a chain of battery stores that never got off the ground. He moved to Nashville in 1973 with the ambition of becoming — wait for it — a country and western singer-songwriter. This also went nowhere. By now — around 1976 — he was out of money, drunk much of the time, and constantly getting into love or lust affairs with various single and married women.

At this point it somehow occurred to Sadler that he should become a historical novelist. Armed with a 10th-grade education, a library card, and a bottomless bottle of tequila, he started cranking out a series of what have been called male bodice-ripper historical romances. The most successful of these was what eventually became a 22-book series featuring a character named Casca Rufio Longinus. The protagonist was (and is: the series was revivified by other authors after Sadler’s death, and is now approaching 50 volumes) a combination of Longinus, the Roman soldier who qua medieval legend pierced Christ’s side with a lance, and the Wandering Jew, who, who according to a related tradition taunted Jesus en route to the Crucifixion, and was cursed to wander the earth as a result.

Casca is thus a soldier who was cursed to remain a soldier until the Second Coming. Apparently he is doomed to be killed in many nasty ways, only to be brought back to life, so that he can suffer and inflict ever-more martial carnage. Now I have to say this is just a fantastic — in every sense — premise for a pulp fiction series, and I’m tempted to track down one of these texts, which over the years have developed quite a fan club. (With any luck at least one LGM commenter is a member).

The Casca series doesn’t represent all of Sadler’s literary output by any means. I’ve tracked down 31 (!) novels written by him over the dozen years or so between his rebirth as a novelist and his untimely death. Apparently Sadler’s method was to write books in five-week dusk to dawn spurts of furious composition, that involved little if any re-writing or editing, and stupendous amounts of drinking.

Speaking of histories of violence, Sadler started publishing the Casca series immediately after he shot a man to death. It was, as you can probably imagine by now, a complicated situation: At the time of the shooting in December 1978 Sadler was involved with Darlene Sharpe, a woman who was the former girlfriend of country singer and songwriter Lee Emerson Bellamy (Bellamy was an ex-con who at one time managed the careers of both George Jones and Marty Robbins. I apologize to Erik for not saving this tale for his peripatetic cemetery visits).

Bellamy had apparently been harassing both Sharpe and Sadler, and had already had one violent confrontation with the two of them in a Nashville parking lot, during which, per court records, he threatened their lives.

One night Bellamy made several harassing phone calls, including one to the restaurant where Sadler and Sharpe were having dinner with friends. Sadler called the police, who did nothing. The couple then went to Darlene’s apartment, where soon Bellamy appeared. Sadler slipped out a side door; Bellamy saw him and retreated to his van. In court, Sadler testified that he saw a flash of metal, which he took to be a gun. He then shot Bellamy right between the eyes. (From forty feet away, with only a single streetlight for illumination, as he proudly related several years later to a bemused journalist). This is already not the greatest case I’ve ever heard of for a successful self-defense claim, but it gets a lot worse, as, according to court records, Sadler then planted a gun in Bellamy’s van.

Sadler was charged with second-degree murder, but eventually pled out to voluntary manslaughter. He was sentenced initially to four to five years in prison. Sadler had hired the top criminal lawyer in Nashville, who somehow subsequently managed to get the sentencing judge to reduce his client’s sentence to 30 days (!) in the country workhouse, of which he ended up serving 28. (The district attorney hadn’t wanted to bring the case to trial, because he thought that, in 1979, a Nashville jury would be reluctant to convict a war hero who had brought The Ballad of the Green Berets to America).

The final twist in this tangled tale is appropriately gothic. After the Bellamy affair, Sadler’s wife Lavona had had enough. She told her husband to leave and not come back until he got himself straightened out. Sadler traveled to Mexico and other central American locales, before eventually settling down, sort of, in a ranch near Guatemala City, which he rented for $300 per month. This price included a staff of three. At the time, Sadler was earning about $100,000 per year ($220,000 in current dollars), 90% of which came from his Casca novels. with the remainder made up of ongoing royalties from his long-ago music stardom. He dubbed the place Rancho Borracho.

Sadler kept cranking out Casca novels at a pace of two or three a year. He also intermittently provided free medical care to villages that I suspect reminded him of Vietnam, while sending regular checks back to Lavona and their three children in Nashville.

Barry Sadler was shot in the head in a taxicab in September 1988, in Guatemala City. He never recovered and died the next year, five days after his 49th birthday. The local authorities concluded he accidentally shot himself while drunk. This is needless to say a plausible theory, as is the belief of his family and friends, that he was murdered by a never-identified enemy of some sort (At the time he was shot, Sadler was, as was his inveterate custom, keeping company with a woman other than his wife).

In his latter days Sadler often lamented the success of The Ballad of the Green Berets. He told friends and acquaintances that, if not for that song, he would have just stayed in the Army — which he said he loved — for 20 years, and then retired with a pension that would have allowed him to travel the country in an RV, hunting, fishing, and not brooding on the fate of the eternal soldier.

A biography of Sadler has just been published. Written by Marc Leepson, it has the appropriately pulpy title Ballad of the Green Beret: The Life and Wars of Staff Sergeant Barry Sadler from the Vietnam War and Pop Stardom to Murder and an Unsolved, Violent Death. ... reen-beret

IanEye » Sat Aug 20, 2011 6:54 pm wrote:
justdrew wrote:
well, the Ventures are clean :thumbsup

I have actually felt for a long time that The Ventures might have been Government Agents. From the mid-60's into the 70's, while the U.S. was in Viet Nam, The Ventures would tour Asia extensively.
They would perform at an Army base, then at a private club, then on a Naval battleship, then another private club. It seems like the ideal cover to gather intelligence, then debrief, gather more intelligence....

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Re: countdown to 11/22/13: JFK disinfo in multi-media

Postby seemslikeadream » Thu Oct 26, 2017 10:16 pm

Mazars and Deutsche Bank could have ended this nightmare before it started.
They could still get him out of office.
But instead, they want mass death.
Don’t forget that.
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Re: countdown to 11/22/13: JFK disinfo in multi-media

Postby PufPuf93 » Fri Oct 27, 2017 3:14 am

NY Times video clip about the umbrella man. ... tion=click>ype=vhs&version=vhs-heading&module=vhs
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Re: Live at the O2 Academy in Glasgow

Postby IanEye » Fri Dec 21, 2018 10:21 pm

IanEye » Wed May 02, 2012 9:43 pm wrote:
I mostly listen to comedy oriented podcasts.


Karen and Georgia cover the Burke & Hare murders, as well as the Bible John murders.

IanEye » Sun Mar 06, 2016 6:15 pm wrote:

- -

peace when times are hard
light to guide you through the dark



Peace be with you.

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The Apes From The Black Lagoon

Postby IanEye » Wed Jun 05, 2019 5:32 pm

Our show this month has two in-depth interviews, one about a book, and one about a documentary, about two classic summer movies, specific to the world of special effects makeup.
The book is entitled The Lady From The Black Lagoon and was written by Mallory O’Meara. It tells the story of Millicent Patrick. Millicent worked in the Universal Studios makeup department in the early 1950’s. One of the things that Millicent was responsible for was the design of none other than the Creature From The Black Lagoon.

Now the normal expression would be Millicent’s “claim to fame” was designing the Creature From The Black Lagoon, but the fact is, she is not famous for it, because her credit was, shall we say, appropriated by a lesser talent with more clout and a different gender. Highlight the last part. Not only is The Lady From The Black Lagoon a fascinating look into Hollywood in the 1950’s but it’s still relevant today, especially in the way it tells the story of the struggles women still have in male dominated film genres, just in being treated as equals.

We also have Hollywood makeup legend Thom Burman and William Conlin who are here to talk about their new documentary Making Apes. And here – here – is how these two stories are connected.

The Westmores were known as the first family of Hollywood makeup. At one point, it seemed, every major studios make up depertment employed or was run by at least of the Westmore Brothers.

Universal Studios was run by Bud Westmore, who I think we can safely describe as the Fredo Corleone of the Westmore Clan. Bud was a man of average artistic talent, but he knew how to hire the right people and take credit for their work Just ask Millicent Patrick.

Another film that was made on Westmore’s watch was The List Adrian Messenger which mad early use of a new kind of screen makeup, latex appliances. Basically rubber pieces that were glued into actor’s faces as opposed to putty that would be built up. Fast forward to 1966, and 20th Century Fox has just greenlit a movie called Planet Of The Apes. But nobody knows how they are actually going to make the apes work. This seems unusual in that the entire film rests on this concept, but I admire their chutzpah. In any event, at that time the Fix makeup Department was run by a guy named Ben Nye, and Ben, who was nearing retirement, felt that Planet Of The Apes was beyond his grasp. So he said, “Call Bud Westmore. He’s just done some amazing work on a film called The List Of Adrian Messeneger,

Now in the shop at that time was a young apprentice makeup man. And in those days, apprentice make up men’s jobs consisted of cleaning up and shitting up, but this apprentice knew something that Ben Nye didn’t, and before he knew what he was saying, words came out of his mouth: Bud Westmore didn’t do it. That was John Chambers.”

Now, nobody knew this because, well, that’s how Bud Westmore wanted it, but by now that cat was out of the bag. Ben Nye turned to his outspoken apprentice and said, quite simply, “Then call John Chambers.”

Making Apes is a new documentary that tells the story of how Chambers, and that apprentice, a man named Thom Burman, revolutionized special effects make up, and did it in only a couple of months. It’s also the story of John Chambers, who, if you saw the film Argo, was the man played by John Goodman. Oh yeah, I forgot, the whole time he did this, he was also secretly working for the CIA.

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06-06-19: Cheers.

Postby IanEye » Thu Jun 06, 2019 11:24 pm


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Re: Jeff Wells vibratin' today...

Postby JackRiddler » Fri Mar 27, 2020 12:28 pm



Released last night at MIDNIGHT.

Bob Dylan wrote:Twas a dark day in Dallas, November '63
A day that will live on in infamy
President Kennedy was a-ridin’ high
Good day to be livin' and a good day to die
Being led to the slaughter like a sacrificial lamb
He said, "Wait a minute, boys, you know who I am?"
"Of course we do. We know who you are."
Then they blew off his head while he was still in the car
Shot down like a dog in broad daylight
Was a matter of timing and the timing was right
You got unpaid debts; we've come to collect
We're gonna kill you with hatred; without any respect
We'll mock you and shock you and we'll put it in your face
We've already got someone here to take your place

The day they blew out the brains of the king
Thousands were watching; no one saw a thing
It happened so quickly, so quick, by surprise
Right there in front of everyone's eyes
Greatest magic trick ever under the sun
Perfectly executed, skillfully done
Wolfman, oh wolfman, oh wolfman howl
Rub-a-dub-dub, it's a murder most foul

Hush, little children. You'll understand
The Beatles are comin'; they're gonna hold your hand
Slide down the banister, go get your coat
Ferry 'cross the Mersey and go for the throat
There's three bums comin' all dressed in rags
Pick up the pieces and lower the flags
I'm going to Woodstock; it's the Aquarian Age
Then I'll go to Altamont and sit near the stage
Put your head out the window; let the good times roll
There's a party going on behind the Grassy Knoll

Stack up the bricks, pour the cement
Don't say Dallas don't love you, Mr. President
Put your foot in the tank and step on the gas
Try to make it to the triple underpass
Blackface singer, whiteface clown
Better not show your faces after the sun goes down
Up in the red light district, they've got cop on the beat
Living in a nightmare on Elm Street

When you're down in Deep Ellum, put your money in your shoe
Don't ask what your country can do for you
Cash on the ballot, money to burn
Dealey Plaza, make left-hand turn
I'm going down to the crossroads; gonna flag a ride
The place where faith, hope, and charity died
Shoot him while he runs, boy. Shoot him while you can
See if you can shoot the invisible man
Goodbye, Charlie. Goodbye, Uncle Sam
Frankly, Miss Scarlett, I don't give a damn

What is the truth, and where did it go?
Ask Oswald and Ruby; they oughta know
"Shut your mouth," said the wise old owl
Business is business, and it's a murder most foul

Tommy, can you hear me? I'm the Acid Queen
I'm riding in a long, black limousine
Riding in the backseat next to my wife
Heading straight on in to the afterlife
I'm leaning to the left; got my head in her lap
Hold on, I've been led into some kind of a trap
Where we ask no quarter, and no quarter do we give
We're right down the street from the street where you live
They mutilated his body, and they took out his brain
What more could they do? They piled on the pain
But his soul's not there where it was supposed to be at
For the last fifty years they've been searchin' for that

Freedom, oh freedom. Freedom cover me
I hate to tell you, mister, but only dead men are free
Send me some lovin'; tell me no lies
Throw the gun in the gutter and walk on by
Wake up, little Susie; let's go for a drive
Cross the Trinity River; let's keep hope alive
Turn the radio on; don't touch the dials
Parkland hospital, only six more miles

You got me dizzy, Miss Lizzy. You filled me with lead
That magic bullet of yours has gone to my head
I'm just a patsy like Patsy Cline
Never shot anyone from in front or behind
I've blood in my eye, got blood in my ear
I'm never gonna make it to the new frontier
Zapruder's film I seen night before
Seen it 33 times, maybe more
It's vile and deceitful. It's cruel and it's mean
Ugliest thing that you ever have seen
They killed him once and they killed him twice
Killed him like a human sacrifice

The day that they killed him, someone said to me, "Son
The age of the Antichrist has only begun."
Air Force One coming in through the gate
Johnson sworn in at 2:38
Let me know when you decide to thrown in the towel
It is what it is, and it's murder most foul

What's new, pussycat? What'd I say?
I said the soul of a nation been torn away
And it's beginning to go into a slow decay
And that it's 36 hours past Judgment Day

Wolfman Jack, speaking in tongues
He's going on and on at the top of his lungs
Play me a song, Mr. Wolfman Jack
Play it for me in my long Cadillac
Play me that "Only the Good Die Young"
Take me to the place Tom Dooley was hung
Play St. James Infirmary and the Court of King James
If you want to remember, you better write down the names
Play Etta James, too. Play "I'd Rather Go Blind"
Play it for the man with the telepathic mind
Play John Lee Hooker. Play "Scratch My Back."
Play it for that strip club owner named Jack
Guitar Slim going down slow
Play it for me and for Marilyn Monroe

Play "Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"
Play it for the First Lady, she ain't feeling any good
Play Don Henley, play Glenn Frey
Take it to the limit and let it go by
Play it for Karl Wirsum, too
Looking far, far away at Down Gallow Avenue
Play tragedy, play "Twilight Time"
Take me back to Tulsa to the scene of the crime
Play another one and "Another One Bites the Dust"
Play "The Old Rugged Cross" and "In God We Trust"
Ride the pink horse down the long, lonesome road
Stand there and wait for his head to explode
Play "Mystery Train" for Mr. Mystery
The man who fell down dead like a rootless tree
Play it for the Reverend; play it for the Pastor
Play it for the dog that got no master
Play Oscar Peterson. Play Stan Getz
Play "Blue Sky"; play Dickey Betts
Play Art Pepper, Thelonious Monk
Charlie Parker and all that junk
All that junk and "All That Jazz"
Play something for the Birdman of Alcatraz
Play Buster Keaton, play Harold Lloyd
Play Bugsy Siegel, play Pretty Boy Floyd
Play the numbers, play the odds
Play "Cry Me A River" for the Lord of the gods
Play Number 9, play Number 6
Play it for Lindsey and Stevie Nicks
Play Nat King Cole, play "Nature Boy"
Play "Down In The Boondocks" for Terry Malloy
Play "It Happened One Night" and "One Night of Sin"
There's 12 Million souls that are listening in
Play "Merchant of Venice", play "Merchants of Death"
Play "Stella by Starlight" for Lady Macbeth

Don't worry, Mr. President. Help's on the way
Your brothers are coming; there'll be hell to pay
Brothers? What brothers? What's this about hell?
Tell them, "We're waiting. Keep coming." We'll get them as well

Love Field is where his plane touched down
But it never did get back up off the ground
Was a hard act to follow, second to none
They killed him on the altar of the rising sun
Play "Misty" for me and "That Old Devil Moon"
Play "Anything Goes" and "Memphis in June"
Play "Lonely At the Top" and "Lonely Are the Brave"
Play it for Houdini spinning around his grave
Play Jelly Roll Morton, play "Lucille"
Play "Deep In a Dream", and play "Driving Wheel"
Play "Moonlight Sonata" in F-sharp
And "A Key to the Highway" for the king on the harp
Play "Marching Through Georgia" and "Dumbarton's Drums"
Play darkness and death will come when it comes
Play "Love Me Or Leave Me" by the great Bud Powell
Play "The Blood-stained Banner", play "Murder Most Foul"
We meet at the borders of our being, we dream something of each others reality. - Harvey of R.I.

To Justice my maker from on high did incline:
I am by virtue of its might divine,
The highest Wisdom and the first Love.

TopSecret WallSt. Iraq & more
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Re: countdown to 11/22/13: JFK disinfo in multi-media

Postby Elvis » Fri Mar 27, 2020 9:22 pm

^^^ WOW.

Poet Laureate.
"Frankly, I don't think it's a good idea but the sums proposed are enormous."
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Re: countdown to 11/22/13: JFK disinfo in multi-media

Postby thrulookingglass » Sat Mar 28, 2020 8:29 am

Love how the corporate media has sidestepped the elephant in the room when evaluating Bob's latest offering. Thanks for posting. What happened to our generations of social activist artists? They gave those dogs steaks so big, they couldn't open their mouths for anything but themselves. Stifle dissent, the law that tyrants praise.
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