Lock your doors!

So only 300 days left and we can wave good by to Georgie Jr and hopefully look forward to being a prosperous, respected world power once again.

Early this morning I was driving at full speed into Babylon (manhattan) with two strippers who had been up all night crazed out of their minds on high quality cocaine and beating the shit out of each other in a $30 per night sleazy hotel room. They picked me up at 5am. When i got the call to take a ride I thought, what the hell? These are my people, bent, twisted, creatures that try depserately to be acceptable socialites and fail so misreably that the end result always leads them back to skid row, dreaming and waiting, for something or anything to happen.

I hopped into the car and put the radio to AM CBS 880. If we were going to briefly visit the land of the sodomites its always best to get traffic updates every ten minutes or so.

The girls started talking about how great it would be if Hilary was president. They were obviously out of their minds. Any fool can see that we havent had a solid presidential candidate since ’72

And then it happened--traffic-gridlocked. No way around it, no exit to get off. The shoulders were jammed packed as well. Suddenly, the girls were ripped from the car by Bear Stern’s Executives and carried off into some back alley to be violently penetrated in all orifices. I wasnt armed. Nor was I prepared to take on a gang of unruly finance people. You need high power weapons and ammunition if you plan to do battle with these brutes. As they carried away the girls I just yelled " I told you fuckers years ago to buy gold."

But i understood. If my company was riding high on the crest of financial superpower and then suddenly that wave crashed making my personal net worth only 1/10th of what it was the week before, I too would go crazy. I too would also roam the streets with my coworkers striking back at society anyway possible. And what better place to savagely kidnap someone than in broad daylight rush hour traffic.

I thought about calling the police or maybe even the FBI to report this at once. But it would only tie up my day. Plus at that exact moment the break down lane had cleared giving me a open lane to the next off ramp. So i hopped into the driver seat and mashed the accelarator. The exit ramp was a sharp hair-pin turn and the yellow signs indicated that the DOT reccomended all vehicles to slow down to 15 mph to properly navigate that turn. However, the DOT forgets that sometimes people are driving precision tuned Mercedes Benz’s and when you pay over 100K for your automobile that just means that you have bought your right to ignore all those posted signs. I took the turn at 70mph without so much as a peep from the tires.

Total control.

The S600 is truly a beast, I thought, as I headed back northbound to safety. I thought about the situation and I was glad that I didnt get involved with the kidnapping of helpless girls by obvious cannibals. Plus I had a lot of things to do today.

A dedication was in order along with a moment of silence. I scanned through the radio and found a station playing a classic that I dedicate to the memory of those poor girls

Peter Sarstedt: Where Do You Go My Lovely?

You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there’s diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes there are

You live in a fancy apartment
Off the Boulevard Saint-Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do

But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

I’ve seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does

When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pins
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan on your back and on your legs

And when the snow falls you’re found in Saint Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon brandy
But you never get your lips wet, no you don’t

But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Won’t you tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

Your name, it is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for Christmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh, a-ha-ha-ha

They say that when you get married
It’ll be to a millionaire
But they don’t realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, or give a damn

Where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly-born tags, so they try

So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes you do

I know where you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
’Cause I can look inside your head

(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)
(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)

Missing in Iran/Help Find Bob Levinson

The Bryant Park Project, March 12, 2008 · Robert Levinson, a retired FBI agent working for a private security firm, was tracking a case when he made plans to fly to the Iranian resort island of Kish. On March 9, 2007, Levinson checked out of his hotel in Iran and climbed into a cab. He hasn't been seen since.





This week his family is marking his 60th birthday with a rally in their hometown of Coral Springs, Fla.

"We still do not have any information," says his wife, Christine Levinson. Despite a trip to Iran three months ago to beg the Iranian government for answers, she and her children remain in the dark. "They promised in the name of their religion to continue the search," she says. "But I've heard nothing."

Levinson says that during her visit she spoke to several representatives of the Iranian government, including an official from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and a high-level police officer. "They expressed sympathy," she says, "but said they had no information."

Levinson describes her visit to Kish. "I saw the hotel registry," she says. "I saw that he'd checked in and checked out." Levinson says she knows the entry was made in his handwriting. Her husband, she says, has a very distinctive signature.

Levinson says she has hired a lawyer in order to make it clear to the Iranian government that she's doing everything she can to find her husband. The United States does not have a formal relationship with Iran, so the State Department cannot work directly with officials there. Switzerland, as with other diplomatic business between the two countries, has been acting as an intermediary.

"The Swiss have been very helpful," Levinson says. "They've kept pressure on the Iranians to get me information on my husband."

Levinson isn't sure if her husband was doing clandestine work for the U.S. government. "I have no information," she says. "I spoke to my husband March 8."

She says that when he traveled abroad he'd rarely let more than 24 hours pass without being in touch.

"I heard from him every day in Dubai," she says. "I thought he'd call me from London. Unfortunately, that didn't happen."

One of the last people to see Levinson was an Iranian informant, an admitted killer, who has not yet been ruled out as being involved in Mr. Levinson's disappearance.

"I don't know what happened over there," Christine Levinson says. What she does know is that the informant and her husband met and talked. She knows that the informant was picked up by Iranian authorities to look at his papers. She knows that when the informant returned to the hotel, her husband was no longer there. She knows that the informant thinks her husband was picked up by authorities.

Life has to go on. Christine Levinson says she using an inheritance to support herself while she looks for her husband. Meanwhile, she urges anyone who might know anything about Robert Levinson or who has expertise in the region to contact the family through Helpboblevinson.com.

"Anybody who can help me, I would hope they would get in touch with me," she says. "Hopefully, somebody will have an answer about where my husband is."

Untapped valuable assets to aid our foreign policy

I know, youre thinking "Uhhhh what does Charles Manson have to do with our foreign policy?" Allow me to explain.

Since the end of World War II our country has had a hard time policing the world. We keep military bases active in just about every country in the world and we also let it be known that if anyone steps out of line we will personally bomb the shit out of them. So why do some countries still test the waters? Do they want a fight? Maybe. I think that any country that is willing to step into the ring with us is tempted by the fact that we spend way too much time discussing what we would like them to do, or trying to reach a peaceful agreement, which is all bullshit and has caused us to be viewed in a whole new light. We arent ass kickers anymore, we're drunk pseudo-bullies that got lucky one night at a party and knocked someone out with one shot. Everyone was afraid of us for a few decades after we nuked Japan but then they realized we're not as tough as we say we are.

Now that any other country that poses a threat to us can see through us like a Zima (and especially since the failed extended weekend in Iraq) we will start to see more and more countries considered "super powers" start to call our bluff. We need and American with real class. This is where Charlie Manson will come in handy:

Whether you are a fan of serial killers or not (I am not) you cant deny that somewhere before their incarceration they had to be true patriots. The freedom granted to them from birth allowed them to live out their twisted lifestyles for a certain amount of time with minimal or no interference. Incarceration has faded that love and appreciation if not completely reversed it. I think its time to harness it, lets use these monsters to our advantage.

Imagine this: Kim Jong-il builds an arsenal of nukes, we keep warning him to stop, he ignores. So we arrange a meeting with our newly appointed Secretary of Defense Charles Manson to meet with the korean midget in a neutral territory such as... well lets say Northwest Frontier Province (Darra) Pakistan--its been labeled the most dangerous area in the world so both Kim and Charlie will appreciate it. Heres the catch, we dont tell him hes meeting with Charles Manson. We send our standard government losers in striped ties and hickey freeman suits to meet with him, and as he starts to negotiate with us we just say "Hold on, were not the ones you need to be speaking with, our superior will be here momentarily"

And then coming over the hills of the Northwest Province: Thousands of Humvees driven by the entire population of Botswana (hired for $25 per person), leading the pack is a bright pink Humvee with Charlie straight-jacketed and strapped to the hood. On the roof, freshly slaughtered goats with IV's running out of there neck in clear tubes directly into Charlies mouth.

In an interview with Manson years ago he said "If i start killing again, there will be none of you left". the American public just laughed and said "Ok Charlie, have fun in your cell" and we never thought twice about it. I guarantee you would feel completely different if Charlie was right in front of you, not in prison, leading a guerilla army, and drinking goat blood so fresh that its still warm.

I guarantee the most evil and caustic dictators will reconsider their nuclear arms program if not run away from an encounter like that.

Plus, we could hire the entire country of Botswana to act as a private military for a mere fraction of the cost to operate our military. Do you know what people in Botswana are doing right now as youre reading this? NOTHING! Theyre not doing a damn thing! Theyre planting seeds in the sand and wondering why nothing has grown. You know why nothing grows? BECAUSE ITS FUCKING SAND! Do you know what its going to be in 100 years? ITS GOING TO BE FUCKING SAND!!

Outsourcing the residents of Botswana, for a minimal fee in US dollars, would make every citizen virtually rich. And we would have saved billions of dollars.

In all fairness the above picture is actually a t-shirt available here