It takes everyone liberal and conservative to run the politics of the engine we call America! Patrotic American warriors defend with their life the right of pacifists to hold the wrong opinions. The Blogmaster harbors some populist ideas and believes in free enterprise as opposed to corporate monopoly capitalism. This is a mostly GOP friendly blog. jdm
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The strange story of Democratic fat cat donor Norman Hsu is rich and revealing, but it certainly isn't the only controversy that puts the lie to the Democratic claim to have ended the culture of corruption. Other embarrassing developments include the fine assessed to Americans Coming Together, the group backed by Democratic donor George Soros; the New Jersey corruption scandal that has cast a wide net over state Democrats; and Democratic Senator Hillary Clinton's legal troubles with former donor Peter Paul.
The New York papers, even the Times, are giving the Hsu story significant coverage, since it involves a home-state senator. But the scandal is getting very little TV coverage, and the other stories even less.
By one count, each of the big three broadcast networks did one in-depth story about the strange case of Hsu, and one follow-up. But nothing is being done so far in the major media to suggest this is a scandal that reflects badly on the Clintons.
This could easily change, however, as the powerful New York Times could decide that the latest scandal is an indication that Senator Clinton carries too much baggage to be a viable Democratic presidential candidate. Will the paper then pull the plug on Hillary and carry the banner for Senator Barack Obama? Only time will tell.
Funny Money
The Hsu story began in August when the Wall Street Journal exposed the more than $1 million that this "businessman" had donated to or bundled for Democratic candidates, with the largest amount going to Hillary Clinton's campaign. There is strong evidence suggesting that Hsu has been making donations through other people, such as the Paw family in the San Francisco area, in which the head of the household, who earned about $50,000 a year as a postman, and other members of his family, gave more than $200,000 to Democratic candidates and organizations. The house that is listed as their residence used to be owned by Hsu.
Hillary's campaign tried to make the story go away by stating its intentions to give to charity the $23,000 that Hsu had personally contributed to her campaign. It says it is now planning to give back all $850,000 that Hsu, who also served as a board member of former President Clinton's Clinton Global Initiative, had solicited for her campaign. The Washington Post reported that "Clinton officials said that the senator, acting out of 'an abundance of caution,' had directed the campaign to return donations from about 260 contributors tied to Hsu because of his apparent involvement in an illegal investment scheme."
The Hillary Project
The time is now!
How can you set there with that smug look on your face ...
eternity comes fast and you don't know your place ...
Fate is standing in the dark shadows playing to your pride ...
and here you are unconcerned like time was on your side ...
The day will come when your ladder of life has no more rungs ...
and all your choices will expire with the breath in your lungs. ..
The nearest Bible can help you make your choice of eternal habitation ...
for you can find Christ Jesus in every book from Genesis to Revelation. ..
jdm2006/02/09"
posted on
http://tinychapel.blogspot.com
Want to talk about eternity?
mailto:jdmartin@pldi.net
Poem of my youth...composed on October 23, 2006
Tracks of a friend in the snow
I have lain on the path of bone chilling fear ...
watched as the death angel hovered near ...
Midnight I rode the trail where black lion stalked ...
my steed snorting his course stayed.. balked ...
I lost my seat and the moon swirled around ...
my head was the first to kiss frozen ground ...
My body bounced down the Arbuckles crag ...
the earth drank my blood and there I laid ...
and dreamed the dream of death’s opening door ...
of life unlived and path’s untracked with joy untasted ...
my future my claim on living gone as I lay wasted ...
but awareness came as light chased away the night ...
My companion grazed close by had kept the cat away ...
snow tracks around my death bed testified to his stay ...
my shirt red soaked with life’s precious fluid staining the ground ...
I drug my pain racked body to the saddle and started down ...
past the still waiting mountain lion eyes peering from thick weeds ...
the smell of my blood kept him waiting to quench his savage needs ...
I looked back as he smelled my blood spilled in the snow where I lay ...
then followed us for awhile before turning to find unguarded prey ...
Danpatch went to equine heaven during the next season’s winter strife ...
But in my dreams I still count the tracks of my friend who saved my life.
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jdm10/23/2006 based on a true occurrence with some literary license applied...My dad was a cowboy and Danpatch had been his favorite horse until he was retired to be my horse. At the time of the poem Danpatch was over twenty years old and I was 12.
Don't Tread on My Flag
We must be very concerned about who we elect as President and Commander in Chief...They must be willing to affirm the Christian roots of this country and the heritage of free enterprise and religious freedom. The must disavow any connection to any other world opinion than one that puts American interests first! They must pledge to never be the instrument of American submission to any authority that subverts the High Law of the Constitution of the United States.At the very least as a potential Commander In Chief of United States Armed Forces they must be able pass and receive a personal Top Secret Clearance background check that we demand of our defenders.God Bless the USA Keep us Free!
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Note: Some posts are moved to Draft status when no longer timely...if you need the post just email me and I will send you the copy.
***A conversation requires two or more opinions or it becomes a rally.***
Opinion Oklahoma
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You're nobody til 51 percent loves you
You're nobody til 51 percent cares
You may be Senator
You may possess the lobeyists and all their gold
But gold won't bring you a happy election
Why ...you are already old
The world still is the same, you will never change it
As sure as the stars shine above
You're nobody til 51 percent loves you
So find yourself somevoters to love
Hey Senator you missed the boat by being a fake conservative. Palin for President in 10
The world still is the same, you never change it
As sure as the stars shine above
Well, you're nobody til 51 percent loves you
So find yourself somevoters to love<
Mine own self I write to gratifie....John Bunyun of Pilgrims Progess said it best..
". . . I did not thinkTo shew to all the World my Pen and InkIn such a mode; I only thought to makeI knew not what: nor did I undertakeThereby to please my Neighbour; no not I;I did it mine own self to gratifie."
I write here in Oklahoma Opinion my heartfelt opinions some inherited from my father and grandfathers and codified along my 71 year journey from Bromide, Oklahoma to Newcastle, Oklahoma. Read my words, make up your own mind and love your nieghbors and your country.
Poem about my youthful dance with the death angel...composed on October 23, 2006
Tracks of a friend in the snowI have lain on the path of bone chilling fear ... watched as the death angel hovered near ... Midnight I rode the trail where black lion stalked ... my steed snorting his course stayed.. balked ... I lost my seat and the moon swirled around ... my head was the first to kiss frozen ground ... My body bounced down the Arbuckles crag ... the earth drank my blood and there I laid ... and dreamed the dream of death’s opening door ... of life unlived and path’s untracked with joy untasted ... my future my claim on living gone as I lay wasted ... but awareness came as light chased away the night ... My companion grazed close by had kept the cat away ... snow tracks around my death bed testified to his stay ... my shirt red soaked with life’s precious fluid staining the ground ... I drug my pain racked body to the saddle and started down ... past the still waiting mountain lion eyes peering from thick weeds ... the smell of my blood kept him waiting to quench his savage needs ... I looked back as he smelled my blood spilled in the snow where I lay ... then followed us for awhile before turning to find unguarded prey ... Danpatch went to equine heaven during the next season’s winter strife ... But in my dreams I still count the tracks of my friend who saved my life.
. . jdm10/23/2006 based on a true occurrence with some literary license applied...My dad was a cowboy and Danpatch had been his favorite horse until he was retired to be my horse. At the time of the poem Danpatch was over twenty years old and I was 12. Gosh I miss him!