The Democratic Debate: Scoring the Contenders

RANDOM JACK: DISSEMINATE FREELY.

By Jack Random


While it is difficult to call the rhetorical exchange that took place in New Hampshire tonight (June 3, 2007) a debate, I will accept the term as a convention. Hosted by CNN, the infamous promoter of mainstream politics, it featured two hours of roaming commentary by eight candidates, six of whom can be considered contenders for the Democratic presidential nomination (the remaining two serving as agent provocateurs).

It may seem foolish to rank the candidates according to their performance but it is no less foolish to listen to the absurd post-debate spin of pundits and politicos. My rankings are based on substance rather than style, though it should be noted that the only legitimate candidate that showed real passion was a surprisingly impassioned Senator Joe Biden. Senator John Edwards would come in second on style with Senators Obama, Clinton and Richardson losing style points for their usual bland approach to reasoned discourse.

Given a distinctly progressive-populist-antiwar-libertarian bias, I ranked the candidates on twenty topics, with a maximum score of two and a minimum score of minus one.

Accordingly, the winner of the June 3 Democratic Presidential Debate was clearly Bill Richardson, Governor of New Mexico. The rankings are as follows:

GOVERNOR BILL RICHARDSON: 14. Positive scores on Iraq (2 points for the call to de-authorize the war), Immigration, Health Care, Gay Rights, Energy Policy (2), Environment (2), Veterans Care, Darfur, Education and the Budget. No negative scores.

FORMER SENATOR JOHN EDWARDS: 10. Positives on Iraq (2), Health Care (2), Energy (2), Iran, Pakistan, Darfur, Tax Policy and Poverty. Negative on Gay Rights (something about states rights).

SENATOR CHRIS DODD: 9. Positives on Iraq, Immigration, Energy Policy (2), Environment, Military Spending, Human Rights, Military Draft, Education, and the Budget. Negative on Darfur (bizarre objection to boycotting the Chinese Olympics).

CONGRESSMAN DENNIS KUCINICH: 8. Positives on Iraq (2), Health Care (2), Assassination Policy (what a loopy question on taking out Osama bin Laden), Trade Policy (2) and the Budget.

SENATOR JOE BIDEN: 5. Positives on Energy Policy, Environment, Iran, Darfur (2), and Election Reform. Negative on Iraq (defended his vote to fund the war).

SENATOR BARRACK OBAMA: 5. Positives on Iraq, Immigration, Health Care, Veterans Care, Pakistan, Darfur and Tax Policy. Negatives on Military Spending and Assassination Policy (too quick to let civilians die in a hypothetical strike on Osama bin Laden).

FORMER SENATOR MIKE GRAVEL: 5. Positives on Iraq (2), Energy Policy, Environment, and Military Spending. (Gravel disappeared in the second hour.)

SENATOR HILLARY CLINTON: 1. Positives on Health Care, Hypothetical Assassination of OBL, Tax Policy and the Budget. Negatives on Iraq (equivocal as always), Iran and Pakistan (she believes she must be perceived as McCain tough).

CNN: Zero for wasting our time with irrelevant questions and for not bringing up Afghanistan, Lebanon, Palestine, Global Warming, New Orleans, Poverty, Wage Decline, Individual Debt, Social Security, Human Rights, Civil Liberties, No Child Left Behind or Fair Trade. What planet on they living on?

For the record, as an independent Green Party member, I have no horse in this race but I think it fair to conclude that the overall winner was Senator Edwards. Governor Richardson has policy but he does not have the flair and commanding presence to win a national election – except as vice president.

In my estimation, Senators Clinton and Obama are both suffering from the equivocation disease that affects those who perceive themselves as leaders of the pack. Hillary has never shown the kind of passion that inspires. Obama seems to have lost the magic he displayed on the floor of the last Democratic convention.

Would anyone in this group make a good president? Would anyone succeed in ending the Iraq war, resolving the crisis in Afghanistan, reverse criminal policies on pollution, civil liberties and human rights? Would anyone really establish universal health care? Would anyone take on the critical issue of trade policy?

Discounting Kucinich, sadly, it is unlikely. Then again, would anyone be worse than what we have today?

Vote Independent. End the war.


JACK RANDOM IS THE AUTHOR OF THE JAZZMAN CHRONICLES (CROW DOG PRESS) AND GHOST DANCE INSURRECTION (DRY BONES PRESS). THE CHRONICLES HAVE APPEARED ON THE ALBION MONITOR, PEACE-EARTH-JUSTICE, THE NATIONAL FREE PRESS, PACIFIC FREE PRESS, LEFTWARD, DISSIDENT VOICE AND COUNTERPUNCH.

Mind of Mansel: Falwell & Lords of Discipline

The Lords of Discipline and The Mothers of Invention

Imagine a multi-ethnic Green Zone, forces united in freedom, much less fries all banded together in blood and torutre cartoons, american and Iraqi, all having to show their I.D. cards to prove thier americanism.

Imagine a rash of wild fires now dying out in Florida and Georgia now that Jerry Falwell has been put into the ground. Never mind the fact that one of his own was armed with bombs. But that story went away as fast as it arrived didn't it? Just how fast did the minor White House spokesman hit the Interstate when the bombs were discovered? How much cover can a post mortem on the truth cover? Imagine that much fire following Falwell into the already sulfur stinking smell of hell.

Imagine the photographs of the Democratic leadership backing off of the Iraq plan so fast they fall head first into one another's asses so far as to breed new dwarfs of entitlements.

Just imagine.

- Chris Mansel (christophermansel@hotmail.com)

Wizard's Corner: Ancient among the Ancient

[Editor's note: The wZ -- aka Jim Wizniewski -- is on pilgrimage in India.]

Ancient among the ancient
Thousands of crows making their flight each morning
Across the river to the city...
Never letting me forget...
Remember the canyon...
The sacred shot into the void.

Vast plains of India stretch before me
With foreign sounds and crow caws...
Sending you a perfect shot into the moment.

wZ

A Call to Warriors: Stand up for Leonard Peltier!

To All Indigenous People. To AIM. To Leonard's Sisters, Brothers, Friends and Supporters

"Where are the warriors?" Remember? These words of the past motivated The Movement and are still pertinent today. Have we forgotten how to be active and strong?

I'm calling out to all women, the children. I'm calling out to the Warriors who carry the honor of their fathers' and grandfathers' and great-grandfathers' names. Stand up for your people. Call yourselves out. Show yourselves to Creator and present yourself, with pride, to the world.

Stand up until the seats in the UN represent every nation of people in Turtle Island.

Stand up and call for protection of Mother Earth.

Save Bear Butte and All Sacred sites.

Stand up for all nations and all peoples,

Stand alone together forever.

Where are the warriors?

I am making a plea to all AIM leaders and members and to all Native peoples, especially the young people. I am making a plea to all of Leonard's friends and supporters. Gather this June 26th in Oglala and show Indigenous support for our brother Leonard Peltier. His parole hearing is one short year away.

Stand up. Stand up for The People. Stand up for Leonard Peltier.

Where are the warriors?

Contact www.oglalacommemoration.com.>

Be in Oglala on June 26th.

In Peace,

Keith Rabin - rockartist1@earthlink.net

Johnny Got His Gun

***

David went to Canada
Dick got a college deferment
Charlie was a conscientious objector
George joined the National Guard
Sam was classified 4F
And Johnny got his gun

We all know what happened to Johnny
Shot down in Nam
A victim of the Tet Offensive
A living thinking mind trapped in a body
Paralyzed to the eyes

Johnny got his gun and 58,000 of his brothers came home in a box
Millions of Asian Johnnies died by our bombs
Hundreds of thousands came home with broken bodies
Broken hearts broken minds broken spirits
Souls shattered by the horror of war

Forty years later a terrorist strike
We send our kids to war with bitterroot
Star spangled distorted sight

How many more must die to appease the god of vengeance?
How many more for an imagined victory parade?
How many more to pretend they did not die in vain?

Fallujah and Wounded Knee
Ramadi and Sand Creek
Abu Ghraib and the Trail of Tears

My Lai and Haditha

We can bury the dead but we cannot bury the truth

David went to Canada and Johnny got his gun


Jazz.

The Wind by James Wisniewski AKA wZ

[Note: The wZ is on pilgrimage in India. Here are some of his thoughts.]

I had already swept the monkey poo off the balcony, stretched, showered and chanted..... gazing out the window running through the different Indian flutes that I have collected... trying to get the hang of their playing style ... when a large wooden boat with a banner for a new High rise stretching the length of the vessel appeared.... It seemed totally out of context with all the row boats and Hindi bathers amongst the water buffalo.... It set my mind into motion of the Friends that I visited last night having gone to see a 'Bollywood" movie about a woman falling in love with a Cricket star and leaving her husband.... the theatre was in the new Mall that has been constructed somewhere near the city.... they said it was just like America... with a McDonalds and everything... air conditioned... clean... the theatre better then any that were in Israel, where they are from... sounded quite gross and they too were repulsed... so glad that I haven't come close to any of that thus far.... My mind looking at this boat with its big Western obnoxious Florida type pull behind the plane advertising, right here in this holy city of Varranassi, India.......sitting next to me is the Journey To Ixtlan, by Casteneda... just finishing chapters on calling of the allies and their tremendous power..... at the Very moment that I am thinking that 'Damn" nothing you can do to stop this infection.... I see a big dust cloud roll through the herd of buffalo, two seconds later the bamboo framing holding the banner Snaps with sound of a gun shot, flinging the massive billboard into the water, with the boat attendants scurrying to rescue the intrusion. With a smile of content acknowledgment of the great spirit and the irony of it all... I knew that there was a force to hold it all back and when the time comes that it will show its power.... Beautiful.

Finally falling back into a groove with time and practice.... Awaking an hour before sunrise... watching the first bathers arrive... it gave me contemplation as to going into the Ganga myself at this time... before all the human waste starts pouring in from the city and all the soap, animal funk, people and boats stirring up the now quiet, serene rolling reflection. Learning Balance.... everything cleared out of the room so that the sound is best from the concrete walls and also that I can stretch doing the yoga thing ... basically just standing still for twenty minutes breathing until that near perfect balance is achieved ... almost hallucinogenic watching the mist and swimmers crossing on their daily journey..... as in a dream a murder of crows speckles the sky flying straight towards my window and over the building .... mystical stuff..... It was the caw of the crow that got me to leave the flat today... I was relaxing then the insistent cawing caused me to investigate the sound...outside my window It took a minute to find the bird of omens and when I did I saw that it was cawing at two boys who were comparing watches..... immediate instinctive knowing that I needed to leave because I didn't have enough time to complete all my task... Thank you crow... Thank you Don Juan and Carlos for Your shamanistic outlet in your books.

The water goes out about as often as the electricity ... fortunately the bucket method is what I have grown used to and I had a full bucket to rinse off with.... No such thing as hot water in my building,,, the water is refreshing like a baptism and I get to put on the new shirt and freshly bucket washed white cotton pants to sport about town in....

Figuring out how to keep the placed locked up tight with the cheap locks that are offered ... just have to hope for the best... They haven't got door knobs over here.... any one could come along and lock you in your own place at any time ... a sliding hasp on either side of the door is what the standard door fastener is ... instant cell for a whole civilization.... My place has double doors on al the entrances....the one to the balcony had a big enough hole to let the monkey in so the landlord came down with a hammer and nails.... the hammer was about six inches long on a broken down handle ... no claw ... just a hunk of steel to pound with ... the nails were three or for bent up used ones and a few tacks in a rusty can ... then we were supposed to get a nail through the dense dry hardwood on a termite eaten, sun beaten, falling apart frame of a door.... it took about twenty minutes of trying ... using bricks and scraps ... splitting wood ... bending nails ... till we finally got a tack into the board enough to keep the whole covered ... though even a baby monkey could rip it apart and come steal my bananas... I keep the large room sealed off in the morning so that the sun wont heat up the room ... after a couple hours of flute in the small room ... the big room is more private where no one can really hear me, a better place to chant vocals when timid... Lighting some potent Incense and grabbing the shruti box onto the bed...it was mesmerizing watching the seductive dance of the smoke through the cracked light fragments piercing the darkness....giving the atmosphere a vehicle in which to be seen....the fantastic further dimension revealing itself to all who care to pay attention. Deep guttural hints of Tibetan monk chanting keep seeping out of my lungs as I peek at the glowing red tip of frankincense sticking out of the large old mortar and pedestal by the broken door. The scent eludes me...as it is the motion, the dance, the revelation of sound...something new something sacred, delicate, raw, fresh and innocent joining in the encubance of one thing ... the ever present moment ... no future ... no past... only the now.....

The sound of a persistent author on his/her typewriter just across the temple has been with me since before I awoke ... some dedication ... makes me think of my True artist writer friends back in the states ... the jake berrys and jack randoms of the world ... filling pages with important thoughts, bearing their souls for the sakes of others.... Makes me think of Carlos Castenada's dedication and the story of warrior mentality ... consulting death as an adviser for every action ... there are no miscalculated movements ... pay very close attention ... every move could be your very last one..... act as if this is so.

[Note: Forward comments about this and other postings to jackrandom@ earthlink.net.]

Mind of Mansel: Marking the Past

[Editor's note: I've encountered difficulty posting. These should have been posted as written over the last two months. Fans of Mansel, you should check out the exchange posted on Jake Berry's site.]


Politicians and Fundraisers (It's A Dog's Life)

The campaign trail has inflated to include a ghastly sight that of mongrel dogs serving as waiters at all you can eat $1,000.00 a plate dinners in both sides of the aisle. Any dissident of the dog show circuit will tell you that a good hound will carry a rack of ribs to a good ol Texan contributor better than a poodle but there he is, a small poodle named Spike carrying, or dragging an order to a table of loud Texans at a John McCain luncheon. The dobermans are working the bar and reaping the biggest tips.

Over at the Obama brunch its the Collie's serving up tea sandwiches in an attempt to win over the delights of the Russian Tea Room crown with steaming orders of rock crab. An unusual order for this venue but these older citizens of wealth and power will do anything to rub shoulders or thighs with a true to life star of political power.

- Chris mansel 3/18/07


Undisputedly Theirs, Deprivation


"This is the horror that I see in politics today- a pack of self-righteous hyenas feeding on an unexpected carcass, and getting bloated too fast on all that sudden meat."

- Hunter S. Thompson, in a letter to Jerome Grossman October 20, 1973


Surely somewhere in the Koran there's a quotation than can cover the degradation that is occurring in the White House right now. Not in general mind you, but centered on a balding mama's boy welding a phallic septor in the president's ear (we hope) and speaking in tongues (we're not surprised) about having to testify and government oversight and Karen Hughes and potty talk.

Imagine being press secretary and taking your daily rubdown from non-West German karen hughes and fielding phone calls meanwhile from Ed Meese from his largely buttered compound somewhere in the well-littered but strongly fortified by conservative think tankers who washed out of the dot com craze and have shaved their pubes just in time to pack in for the long hard fight against the Clintons.

Roll call is at 4 a.m. the handout reads and at 3:45 a man weighing 475 pounds in a Keith Olbermann mask walks in the bunk house screaming and blaring on a radio the theme to Rawhide. The faithful assemble and begin kicking one another with sock feet and cursing the New York Times. All the way to breakfast they recite the talking points from the No Spin Zone of Bill O'Reilly and when they sit down to eat a modest repast of lard and boiled gun belt the television is tuned to Fox in the morning.

But the real problem are not these right wing training camps or the evangelical cults that operate under the guise of federal tax law, no it goes much deeper and the road to despair always leads to the middle. As Richard Nixon said that last night, "This last nail is driving me crazy, call the networks!"

As for Iraq it would appear that the Montagnards have returned in the form of terrorists and suicide bombers, fighters who when awakened do not so easily go away.


- Chris Mansel 3/16/07


The Wrong Crutch for the Miracle Mile

It was the first time in a long time that I left a restaurant in the nation's capitol without having to look over my shoulder for G. Gordon Liddy waving handgun and screaming about Scooter Libby and the dismantling of his crutches, the only reason he would be found guilty according to him. One man even tried to ask him about Tim Russert and his showing up to testify with a conveniently broken ankle leaning on some crutches and Liddy attacked the poor bastard like Oliver North straddling a G.I. in the Mekong Delta too passed out to to tell or ask.

It was the first time in a long time and I knew that if Liddy had gone back underground then maybe so had Karl Rove, but as i entered a well known health club I saw Rove doing the breast stroke across the kiddie pool dressed in a three piece suit, the Secret Service maintaining a perimeter, guns drawn. Vicodin and wheat germ for Rove it seems but the bills are torn up before they are even tallied.

- Chris Mansel 3/13/07


Ghost Riders In The Sky

The shots fired in salute over the graves of soldiers all over the world have begun to land. Even the deserters from battle, even the drug addict surgeon who stepped over bodies still breathing during the Civil War to the peace and quiet of the nearby farmhouse, even the politicians who have long since died and who were sworn to secret by defense contractors for their sexual deviant behavior can all come together and see that the war in iraq has spilled over its borders into the halls of Washington's elite circles and have only recently began to do what the attacks on Sept. 11, 2001 could not do. The american economy is under attack, the infrastructure that made the financing of the war possible, the situation that allows the United States to put itself into position to borrow money from its enemies to keep the government running could crumble if the first ever four front war were to occur.

Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Nigeria. Some came for hate others came for oil, others came for revenge. It's like a bad spaghetti western only the voices that are dubbed are from the screams of innocent families under fire. Picture the shopkeeper peering out from behind the curtain in the window as he watches Clint Eastwood walk down the middle of the street. But you don't hear Ennio Morricone's score, you hear the sound of helicopters and the recoil of weapons being fired against a concrete barrier. You hear the reviving of an engine and the sound of a woman calling her child into her house from the street. Surreal? Try war. Now try and and operate a functioning economy in the midst of this.

Disease is more than a colored wristband and war is more than a ribbon. War is veterans without arms and legs being told you cannot come here and you must stay here. War is not a stabling force to a troubled economy and war is not a decal or a reason to roll up your sleeves for a half hour and board a bus to the next town. War is not for profit and war, war is not any good for anyone, even those who believe in it.

- Chris Mansel 2/28/07


The Passage of Blood In The Water

They're pumping cold water into the grave of Ronald Reagan to keep the global warming readings down in the California. Even in the desert where Sinatra is buried it doesn't dip into the teens at night anymore. Strom Thurmond's cold night in hell isn't as cold as it used to be. So where do we go from here if the planet does warm up and the great cattle rancher in the sky turns to marsh land and all the lobbyists have to go offshore to warm up the leathers of the flatulent politicians who hold the votes hostage of all those welfare moms while they strum illegal aliens for profit aboard those yachts just off the Maryland Keys?

When the last tree that grows in Brooklyn has been cut down and used to pad the pet carrier of a billionaire's pooch and the last mugger in central park has had to steal a dingy and go pirate then will the Right Wing admit that just maybe they were wrong about the environment? Will the Glenn Beck's of the world have to gnaw off their own arms in regret when in the final turn they find they are seated next to Cindy Sheehan in the last lifeboat to dry land?

The blood in the water, what used to be blood will by then have become something else entirely. A new species perhaps? Roasted in the waste of our own ignorance? Danger, real danger is only as close as the penny slot my friend.

- Chris Mansel 2/27/07


Camelot or Carnival

It is understandable to be weary of politicians any politician. The apparent cause celeb being heaved upon Barak Obama and the comparison to Robert Kennedy in the new issue of Rolling Stone, the once staple of the counter culture, should draw ridicule but will only draw attention from those other publications and news outlets looking to join the hunt where to paraphrase Bob Dylan, "Where the swift don't win the race."

Any talk of Camelot and the Kennedy mystique is always shrouded by the fact that not many have dug into the true nature of that time and what brought about their success and their methods of maintaining their power. The Kennedy years are more than the missile crisis, a small boy saluting, and an assassination. Each event I just mentioned goes to the root and these roots stretch farther than the eye can see underground and collect alot of dirt.

Obama represents to some a new hope and a "piggy back" effect, a duel purpose of ideals and rhetoric both maligned and peace loving. He is the son of a Kenyan father who will no doubt be drawn into some nasty discussions as the campaign wages on about the oil troubles in Nigeria. Republicans will undoubtedly ask about race and make it an issue. The one thing the conservative crowd can depend upon is the racist vote it has coveted for years. Barak Obama will be an easy target. It is still yet to be seen if a Hispanic candidate will appear to polarize the electorate.

- Chris Mansel 2/9/07


The Non-Union of The State

An echo in a backbone, a shredding vertebrae in a human body exhausted by gunfire. As the bullet jumps from flesh to bone to flesh it's not important if the body belongs to a Sunni or a Shiite. Imagine running around with a stretcher on the morning of Sept. 11 and only looking to offer aid and comfort to those who were Catholic or Baptist. In this country that would be labeled as racist but in a country like Iraq we label it Sectarian.

Through the line of Generals that have eased in and out of the green zone there have been little success and more bodies than any one relief agency can count from a Human Rights standpoint. That echo I mentioned earlier is heard in the streets and playgrounds of the United States where more and more John Walker Lindh's are being recruited by the rhetoric of extremist evangelical groups who prey on the very same qualities a pedophile will look for and in some cases the evangelical will eventually turn out to be one in the same.

When you bear in mind that often times we are fighting those that we have armed and trained you can make the example of a nation like Iraq coming to the United States. Sending in arms and training to a gang like the Bowery Boys, could the Iraqi's have made a difference in Tammany Hall or the Know Nothing Party? Could the Iraqi's have played a role in shaping this relatively new country?

Could it be that we the citizens of the United States have been interred inside of our own Abu Ghraib since we invaded? To quote the film Mindwalk, "Is this some sort of Saint Vitus Dance of the mind?" Is this incapacitating and deadly condition our men and women are serving in just a delirium? The Nemesis of terror cannot be defined because you can't throw your arms around a ghost and explode a device, especially if you don't look for him.

I saw the best minds of my generation every night on CNN being shot and wounded. Their families shaken with fear crowded around the same channel hoping for a glimpse or am email to to see if they are still alive. It's just like when I was a child on the news with Walter Cronkite, except then it was Vietnam, a jungle war, but in this war the jungle is street to street not tunnel to tunnel. This is the time to speak up and not because it is a campaign year but because it is a time of lives being lost. Lives of civilians, which include children never forget. Never, ever forget.


- Chris Mansel 1/25/07

Vote No War!

Don't be fooled, the "withdrawal from Iraq" plan that Democratic Party leaders in Congress have just announced is nothing more than a cover to approve Bush's request for $100 billion to fund the war and occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan -- in other words, to continue the war.

Democratic Party leaders propose to begin withdrawing troops in a year to 18 months. Over the last 18 months, more than 1,200 US soldiers have been killed and about seven times that many wounded and maimed. A year or 18 months more war is a death sentence for untold numbers of soldiers and even greater number of Iraqis (Note: The ratio of American to Iraqi war dead is an estimated 200:1).

The "withdrawal time tables" along with the "goals and conditions" that the Democrats are proposing are not fundamentally different thatn the ones that Bush proposed in his "State of the Union" address.

Democratic Party leaders can end the war right now if they exercise their power to simply cut of all funding for the war. If they fail, it's not just Bush's war or the Republican war, its the Democratic war as well.

On Monday antiwar activists around the country will begin camping in front of the Capitol Building. We need you to join us. We need you to march on the Pentagon March 17. We need you to march on the streets of every city in America with a united voice: End the war today!

Harry Reid: End the War!

American casualties are up. Iraqi causalities are up. The Bush Administration's strategy is not working. It's time for a change in Iraq, and that's exactly what the legislation I announced yesterday accomplishes.

We can't stay in Iraq forever. The question becomes whether we continue to follow the President's failed strategy or whether we work to change course.

That's why I introduced a joint resolution along with Senators Durbin, Schumer, Murray, Levin, Bayh and Feingold calling for the President to bring stability to Iraq by beginning a phased redeployment of U.S. forces in 120 days with the goal of redeploying most combat forces by the end of March 2008.

Over the last two months, hundreds of thousands of you have come forward to support Senate Democrats. Today I come to you again and ask to show your support by becoming a citizen cosponsor of our plan.

Last November, the American people demanded a new direction. However, Republicans have chosen to green light the escalation. Democrats will not stop fighting for change in Iraq. Now Republicans must join us and put America's future before the President's legacy.

Thank you,

Harry Reid

Mind of Mansel: Jeb & Joe

If you're under the hideous impression that national politics can get no worse then contemplate a Jeb Bush/Joe Leiberman ticket thrusting itself off from a Battle carrier parked just off Palm Beach while its crew members are forced to carry out their duties amidst the whims of the right wing press.

Navy Lt. - Sir, another reporter is crawling in and out of the missile firing station naked and screaming about the undiscovered amendments of the constitution hidden in Paris Hilton's cell phone.

Admiral - Jesus, not again. See if you can coax Hannity out with a copy of the dead and dismembered in Iraq.

Imagine Joe Lieberman trying for at least a few hours to get into one of those flight suits. Imagine Jeb Bush beating or having beaten up every reporter who covered his daughter arrested for drugs and having their bodies buried at sea.

- Chris mansel

The Road to War

>
The road to war is paved with timid hearts and minds
with broken words and fear of naked photographs

The road to war is ribbons and confetti with soldiers
who have no words to trade for fallen comrades

The road to war is blood-stained tears of children
without fathers mothers without sons circles of blood
trust shattered and lost beneath waves of destruction

The road to war is pretending other people are victim
born whose suffering is not real whose hearts do not
bleed whose souls do not cry vengeance

The road to war is sorrow and turning back the wheel of
time remembering when war was peace and justice was
an unseen hand transforming wrong to right

The shrapnel of an improvised explosive rips through the
tender skin of an armored Humvee severed veins arteries
tendons bones cry of children caw of crow the last sound
on the road to war is a ringing of the bells, a soldier’s final
summons

The road to war is roses in a garden a ride on daddy’s knee
photos in a family album the strong the brave the free

The road to war is history
the road to peace a dream

Jazz.

On Behalf of Leonard Peltier

[Note: This comes from the desk of Wisdomkeeper, Harvey Arden.]

~A PLEA TO CONSCIENCE~
On behalf of Leonard Peltier

Firstly to the FBI,
secondly to the President,
thirdly to the American People

VENGEANCE IS YOURS, and you have certainly extracted it from Leonard Peltier and from his People, the indigenous Original People of this Land. After Thirty-One Years of continuing imprisonment on charges that you and we all know are false—and, please, this is long past argument—we ask mercy for, and release from confinement of, our brother Leonard Peltier. We ask only one thing for Leonard: Freedom. We request that the President sign a BLANKET PARDON for ALL acts committed by ALL PERSONS during the so-called “Reign of Terror” three decades ago on the Pine Ridge Reservation, during the years 1972-76. This includes Leonard Peltier, of course, and all other members (at that time) of AIM—the American Indian Movement—as well as members (at that time), most of them now retired, of the FBI, the BIA and other Federal and State governmental agencies, and ALL OTHER PERSONS involved in the dark events of those times. No acknowledgements of guilt or innocence, no admissions, no confessions need be made by any living person on this matter. The President of the United States hereby pardons ALL living persons for ANY crimes whatsoever committed at that place in those dark times. So we, the Undersigned, ask him to write, ending this sad matter. Let the historians figure out in decades ahead who did what to whom in those days. Let Leonard be released and returned to his People, and let this old oozing wound be healed to a scar in all our hearts so that we can turn our collective energies to the Future of our Living Children. Let it be so.

SIGNERS OF THIS PLEA TO CONSCIENCE
#1 Harvey Arden, Washington, DC
#2
#3
#4
ETC

[IF YOU WANT YOUR NAME & CITY/LOCATION ADDED TO THIS PUBLIC PLEA, REPLY TO HARVEYARDEN@STARPOWER.NET WITH “ADD ME” ON THE SUBJECT LINE & PUT YOUR NAME & CITY/LOCATION IN THE BODY OF THE TEXT. I’LL DO MY BEST TO MAKE A SINGLE LIST OUT OF THEM ALL. /HARVEY]

Mind of Mansel: The Glass Half-Broken or Half-Spilled

I'm not a red stater or a blue stater so I categorically deny your attempt to place me in a catagory invented by the mainstream media. When I watch the horriffic news and slaughter of innocent lives around the world I do not under any means interpret what I am seeing by which state I am living in.

I'm not a flag waver unless you include waving the white flag upside down in an unfailing symbol of protest for those who cannot speak for themselves. I am unable to travel to every nation on earth where indigenous people are being destroyed along with their homes by forces more powerful than them so I write what I can and in doing so I wave the white flag and in doing so it waves upside down in a symbol of chaos, of protest and of peace.

I'm not someone who will only get my news from american nightly news. I will not take the news I hear at its surface truth. I will read on further. I will read the International press and I will discern what I believe to be true. I will call a news photo into question if I see it more than once over more than one byline as has happened more than once.

I'm a dissenting opinion, a dissenting writer and a quoter of facts and I stand by those who have fallen and those who stood up. I believe if you take a history textbook in the United States and hold it up and shake it the truth may come tumbling out but it will never find its way into a classroom the way it needs to be. The truth begins at home.

- Chris Mansel

[Contact: christophermansel@hotmail.com.]

Mind of Mansel: J.R. and I in Iraq - part 10

:
In the final stage of the Gulf War, American troops engaged in a ground assault on Iraq, which like the air war, encountered virtually no resistance. With victory certain and the Iraqi army in full flight, U.S. planes kept bombing the retreating soldiers who clogged the highway out of Kuwait City. A reporter called the scene "a blazing hell...a gruesome testament....To the east and west across the sand lay the bodies of those fleeing."

- Howard Zinn, Introduction to the book, "Target Iraq: What The News Media Didn't Tell You" by Norman Solomon and Reese Erlich.

To date almost 35,000 civilians have been killed in Iraq.* You can't stand them end to end as the old saying goes because a good number of them are not all there anymore. Have you seen what these so-called improvised explosive devices do to the legs of a child? You wouldn't see it on American television because it just isn't shown. If you have a sateilite you might catch a glimpse of it on Al Jazeera but that has been dismissed as propaganda so you would just flip away to something else.

As Jack and I watched the man and his family drive away from his home, the dead woman's body in the backseat, we had a pretty good idea what a roadside bomb could do to a body. We had a damn good idea what an american grenade could do to an Iraqi woman of about 70 to 75 years of age. In the front of the house we could hear the radio traffic, it was american military signal. The nearby camp, the one we had just left, was mopping up a recent attack.

It was just a year before that I had seen a reporter from The Sunday Times get decapitated in Jerusaluem in an attack that didn't officially happen during an official visit by the British government while he was riding in a car that I was almost riding in. Everytime I watched a car drive away without me in it I had horrible feelings, like a waking nightmare where the monster crawls up from under the bed and begins assembling the ropes strand by strand and explaining why he is here to kill me.

My worst fears were soon upon me as Jack and I searched intensely for an escape route out of the situation we had volunteered for. It was a small stretch of houses and there was not alot of room to hide if the security forces came looking for us which they were sure to do. They had "skin in the game" to quote a terribly inept phrase of the last century. As the car made its dusty way along the cratered field it came under fire. Jack saw a hole under the house two doors down we could escape through and was pulling me in that direction but just like when I watched the lady gripping the body of the boy in the street before I was frozen in horror. Jack slapped me twice and kicked me in the leg, shouting, "They're coming through the house, damn it come on!"

As we shriveled our way under the house and into a pathway that led up and into the next house over (a pathway which must have been created to escape what i don't know but it was convenient to us), the security forces came through to where we had been standing and on their radios directed the fire on the car the man and his family were trying to escape in.

Up and into the next house which had been abandoned due to the shelling and bombing, Jack and I ran to the front window and saw american military racing to the front of the house. It would be a few moments before they would organize and attempt to secure the area. It was now or never.

We bolted out of the door and ran into the street and turning the corner we ran into a pack of Iraqi civilians who were just as shocked to see us as we were to see them. A man who must have owned the house we came out of screamed at us in English for leaving the door open, "They will tear the place apart, asshole!"

We had to reach a vantage point to keep in view of what was going on but not so close as to remain in the line of fire or identification. In the streets of Iraq this is almost as impossible as in the jungles of Thailand or Laos when you are two american journalists sprayed with blood and shaking in fear.

- Chris Mansel

* Editor's note: Estimates of the Iraqi death toll vary widely. The UN gave an estimate of 35,000 civilians in 2006. The best estimate, without regard to civilian status, is that of the Johns Hopkins study at more than 600,000.

Goodbye, Brother John

There is a special place for the oldest child of any family. The oldest is the first to experience the world and pass his lessons to younger siblings. The family remembers his trials and accomplishments and the elder recalls everything that follows in his wake.

My oldest brother John has lost his struggle for life, as his family struggles to come to terms with all that his life meant and the reasons it should end now.

He was too young and he had so much to live for. Now, we can only hold him in our memories.

He was the first to embrace the counter culture in the turbulent times of the late sixties.

He was among the first to oppose the Vietnam War when it counted most.

He refused to step forward for military induction.

In many ways, he followed his father’s footsteps. Our father always spoke out against injustice and wrong.

John was not blessed with the greatest athletic ability but he played the game – baseball, football, wrestling, golf – as it was supposed to be played. He studied the game and played with passion. He had the guts of a champion and the heart of a giant.

As the proud father of three sons, he became a coach and passed on his knowledge, his passion and his conviction of sportsmanship to them.

He viewed life in the same way that he viewed sports. He engaged it with a sense of justice, fair play, determination, loyalty, honor and dignity that few can rival.

He made mistakes but he was determined to set them right. He did not shirk his responsibilities; he confronted them.

It is ironic that his heart should have failed him because his heart was always his greatest asset. Those he leaves behind will remember his love and determination.

As we remember him now, each in our own way, we can be sure he fought with every ounce of strength he possessed. He always did. When he let go, he did so because he knew it was time.

Goodbye, brother John, you will be missed more than you can know.

The Merton Reflection on the Morality of War

The Merton Reflection for the Week of January 22, 2007

Hence it becomes more and more difficult to estimate the morality of an act leading to war because it is more and more difficult to know precisely what is going on. Not only is war increasingly a matter for pure specialists operating with fantastically complex machinery, but above all there is the question of absolute secrecy regarding everything that seriously affects defense policy. We may amuse ourselves by reading the reports in mass media and imagine that these “facts” provide sufficient basis for moral judgments for and against war. But in reality, we are simply elaborating moral fantasies in a vacuum. Whatever we may decide, we remain completely at the mercy of the governmental power, or rather the anonymous power of managers and generals who stand behind the façade of government. We have no way of directly influencing the decisions and policies taken by these people. In practice, we must fall back on a blinder and blinder faith which more and more resigns itself to trusting the “legitimately constituted authority” without having the vaguest notion what that authority is liable to do next. This condition of irresponsibility and passivity is extremely dangerous. It is hardly conducive to genuine morality.

From:Thomas Merton. Passion for Peace: The Social Essays.William H. Shannon, ed. New York: Crossroad, 1995: 113–114.

[Posted by Jon Berry, Project Editor, University of Alabama Press.]

Jake's Word: Delusional Presidency

I keep trying to think back and research to find a president that was more delusional than this one. With the possible exception of the last months of the Nixon presidency I'm hard pressed to find anything close. There is a long record of incompetence in the office, but nothing approaching this kind of belligerence and nothing with this kind of consequence. One must look at the last days of the Tsars or the Brits at the end of WWI to find so much power in the hands of people simply incapable of dealing with the responsibilities of the job.

Peace, inside and out,
Jake Berry (Author of Brambu Drezi)

Villagization in the Bush Era by Chris Mansel

Escalation or surge, look those words up in the dictionary and apply them to the situation in Iraq, to the re-deployment of National Guard troops, compare that fact to the complete avoidance of regular troops stationed around the world and you begin to get a picture of the terminology, you get an idea of the american economy becoming more and more local as skilled technicans are re-located to repeat tours in what could be certian death.

Edmund Burke wrote, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." But what is the opposite of that quote? For bad men to do their worst? For good men to encourage or to only do what is required by law? When is force required to stop the abhorrence of evil? In Iraq it is whenever you are fired upon if it is humanly possible. If you can run, you run. Held to a higher standard is one way we describe our fighting men and women. That is one way we describe our means of waging war. All of that ended more or less with the waging of the current war in Iraq and the Bush administration. Still we hold our troops to a higher standard but who will hold their superiors to that same level of achievement?

Quoting from The Nation magazine, Senator Edward Kennedy said, "It seems to me that we are at a time of a major escalation into a civil war, that's what the proposal of a surge is really about. This president is going to escalate the American presence and escalate the whole Iraqi war. This is a major mistake and a major blunder. If there's one thing that the election was about last fall was sending a very clear message to Congress and to the president that the American people want accountability. They want a change in direction on Iraq, they want accountability, and they want people to stand up and be counted."

I think all Americans no matter what their party or belief want accountability, they want finally to be told the truth. Countless times history has proven that if the man in office would have just told the truth, if he would have just leveled with the nation things would have been better. This is one of those times. This Gulf of Tonkin was not an attack on the Twin Towers in New York City on Sept. 11, 2001. This Gulf of Tonkin was created out of thin air not long after taking office in the year 2000 or before, we may never know.

Several U.S. Presidents have stood by and watched as genocides have occured, atrocities, and wholesale slaughters. An escalation of 20,000 troops into a nation as unstable as Iraq will undoubtly be a wholesale slaughter and it will not occur fifty years down the road Mr. President when we're all dead, but soon.

- Chris Mansel
Wednesday, January 10, 2007

[Note: See Jack Random's "Bush to America: War!" on Dissident Voice 1.11.07: www.dissidentvoice.org.]

Mind of Mansel: JR & I in Iraq, Part 9

(Note: Parts 1-8 below.)

If you took the weight of the ocean that erupts in pain at the slightest breeze from across the world and threw it at a child and then took notes on the impact you'd see before your very eyes what war can do. Those notes would be the propaganda you could use to turn the tide on the floor of the U.S. congress and that propaganda could sustain any rationale of turmoil or loss or life. Sound irrational? In the young year of 2007 the political landscape of the world has become the wall that mankind has been backing up towards since the beginning of time. The spear flies through the eye of the storm, through its splendour and blue skies, through the calm and bereft moment of wreckage only to land as the clouds begin to darken and the rains re-approach from the east.

There is no soundtrack on the ground, "boots on the ground" as they say. No combat photographer in khaki has a camera crew following him or her around making sure they are captured in the right light as they help the wounded child to safety or as they seduce the Catholic missionary in the dimming light of the battlefield. War is ugly, it is obscene and the sounds you hear are the screams and the sounds of gunfire, the recoil. If you listen close enough you can hear the gunman next to you change his field of vision, not because you have spent so much time together in a war zone or in that distinct battle but for the fact that your senses are so heightened that your fears are leaping so far from your skin they erupt like the ocean with the slightest breeze from the gunman's movement from across the room.

Jack and I had been in many situations before where our lives were in danger and we had been in situations where we were so compelled into an idea that as we moved along with the story we ached for adventure or excitement.

On the campaign trail, following presidential candidates we would often sneak away from the subject and do what the industry calls a "human interest" story. You've read that line before and wondered what that means. It's not slice of life or inspirational as you might think. A hardened newspaper or wire service editor will call it a story about a nobody, a worthless sidebar or whatever he can come up with at the moment until it gets picked up or noticed. Then you are gold.

For instance we did a story once on a midnight shooting about a woman who was shot two blocks away from a hotel where a candidate was staying. It was a parallel piece. We mirrored their movements. As the candidate was taking the stage and fluffing out his speech she was being struck by the first shot. As the candidate told the first of many jokes in his speech the cartilage in her leg exploded and severed the nerve in her leg and she began to bleed uncontrollably.

When the story was presented the next day we were attacked from one end of the country to the next for sensationilizing the candidates visit to that dear city. We were told directly not to come back. This was the way we felt as we raced ahead of a grenade in Iraq in the back of a car with a family who's only thought earlier that day was survival.

As we each grabbed a leg and the man cradled her head we hurried as best we could out the back of the house. The noise was unbelievable. We could hear the private security forces shouting in english behind us. I was bleeding and all I could think about was their safety and Jack's and going back out the front of the house and somehow returning fire with whatever I could find. I had been shot at before by americans in my own country but not in Iraq. These were criminals, government sponsored thugs who were sure to get away with murder if we didn't do our job.

As we got outside the man's family was cowering in the front of the car mindful that we had to get the now deceased matron of the family into the backseat. I've never helped to put a dead body into a small car, especially one that I had to ride in also. I looked up and Jack's expression was of hurt and anger. He was quiet which was unlike him in a situation of stress but I was aware that he was focused.

As we got her into the car the man noticed that my hand was bleeding. In poor english he took me by the bicep and said, "Wait, here."

He reached into the backseat and tore a piece from the old woman's dress and wrapped it around my hand and tied it there. I couldn't move I was so struck by what he had done. Tears sudenly and immediately streamed down my face. The man padded me on the arm and shook Jack's hand and motioned us into the backseat of the car.

I looked at Jack and he looked at me. I couldn't do it and neither could he. There was no way we could crawl inside on top of the woman even if it meant that we would be shot at any minute. That was the difference between people like this man and his family, people like Jack and myself and the people who were terrorizing this country from both sides. We were good at heart and could not and would not break the simple and fundamental means of life that make us who we are.

We motioned for him to get in the car and go. He tried and tried to get us to get in but we said no.

Jack stammered, "No, take your family and go! Go! Go!"

As we watched the man drive away his son turned around in the front seat and watched us with no expression. I don't think he had any idea what was taking place but it saddened me to know that this boy would remember it all some day. War is no place for a child.

- Chris Mansel

Contact: christophermansel@hotmail.com.

Mind of Mansel: JR & I in Iraq, Part 8

(Parts 1-7 below)

The only human right you have in Iraq these days outside the idling engine of a military transport plane is just that, you are a human at that moment. But step out of the plane into the dusty air and you are the margin for victory, a landslide on the abacus. Translate that into political capitol and you are the means to an end, the straw on the camel's back that like a dowser's wand leads the way to the oil, damn the body count, this is war. Damn men, stiff upper lip and all, this is economics.

It's hard to keep a global ledger in mind when you are bleeding on an Iraqi street. It's even more difficult when you are in the grass which is much cooler but is covered not only in your blood but the blood of children and the twisted metal of automobiles and weapons. Any weapons in a firefight can be a weapon of mass destruction when paint is tearing and flicking away into your eyes, remember that if you ever find yourself hunted by the military of your own country in a foreign land.

The car bomb exploded again as best we could figure as there was another explosion almost right away. One thing you will never understand if you are ever in Iraq is the term, Improvised Explosive Device. That description alone brings to mind Timothy McVeigh going into a Wal-Mart and buying a few items and coming out with two shopping bags and some d cell batteries. There is nothing improvised about any of these devices, nothing thrown together on a whim. It's not like the Vietcong rushed down from the jungles of North Vietnam with just some nails and fertilizer and had to first find a rental truck or take flying lessons. Read back through the reports from Iraq when Saddam was in power and there weren't any I.E.D.'s being exploded. Create the demand and journalists will recoil only slightly before rushing in and that was where we were, rushing in on our bellies.
I looked up and noticed the Iraqi man with the black handkerchief had taken off his disguise and had exposed his american features. I grabbed my camera and shot a few stills of him reloading. Using the second explosion as cover the famalies who had been caught out in the open ran to cover as shots sprayed the streets like vipers snipping at their heels. I grabbed Jack and pulled his face over to mine, his look of confusion moved to anger as he noticed the american.

Jack whispered to me, "Dirty son of a bitch!"

Looking around us we noticed the famalies had made it to cover and one man was waving us over to the door of a storefront.

I grabbed Jack by the shoulder and notioned to him, "We got to make it, the bastard knows we're here."

As soon as I seriously allowed myself to consider running across a street being riddled with gunfire I instantly thought to myself, "You're a journalist and this asshole is trying to make you a soldier!"

I choked back fear and crippling anxiety and slinging blood from my hand onto the street I darted across the street with Jack alongside me. We made it just as the entire front of the building erupted in flames and smoke as a grenade was shot into the street in front of the wall. Once inside the man and his family motioned for us to follow them. As we made our way through the store the man stooped for a moment and stopped to pick up the body of a woman who had been shot. The bullet had gone clear through her skull and glass had sprayed her face, scarring it horribly. Jack and I each grabbed a leg and with the man we made our way to a vehicle outside.

We searched the roofs for private security forces but saw none, evidently they hadn't planned ahead and this gave us pause. We were at least 45 minutes late to the scene and this was as far as they had gotten. What had stopped them? What had we missed? Somehow we had to find out if they had suffered any casualities and we had to ask our saviors here what had happened but first we had to reach a safe distance.


- Chris Mansel