Gender Bending and Doctor Who: The Ruination of a Sci-Fi Legend (by ContraSuggest)

The British Sci-Fi television show Doctor Who has been an enduring cultural phenomenon for the last 50 years.  Beginning as a children's serial back in the early 1960s, producers engineered a clever way for the show to continue when its original lead actor became too ill to continue in the role.  The character of the Doctor, an alien scientist and explorer who travelled the universe in his time machine helping those in need, was able to regenerate his body when it became worn out or damaged.  So thorough was this regeneration, that it even affected his personality, facial features, height, weight and outward age.  This allowed the producers to cast new actors in the lead role at semi-regular intervals, allowing the show to go on potentially indefinitely.  The show had the distinction of being the longest running sci-fi based TV program in history.  Finally, after nearly 30 years, the BBC chose to stop producing the show.  Then in 2005, to the delight of heartbroken fans the world over, the show was revived by the BBC, proved to be immensely popular, and continues going strong to this day.

While harkening back to the spirit of the original series, the new series also blazed a trail of its own with new concepts and storylines.  Some of these changes were well-received by fans; others were not, but overall there was much enthusiasm for the reboot, which brought in high ratings thanks to a whole new generation of fans.  For the first several years the storylines were mostly fresh, bold, and interesting, but the show has long since lost its edge, descending into a sad mediocrity, despite its continued popularity.  Seemingly grand storylines are often convoluted, forgettable, and ring hollow as the closing credits role.  Amid all of this trite, worn-out fare, has been an almost ubiquitous radical social commentary, continuously glorifying many precepts of radical cultural chic.  As a huge fan and defender of the show for 35 years, I have been relegated to hanging on in quiet desperation, patiently waiting and hoping for the show to improve and recapture at least some of its former glory.  But now the unthinkable has happened; it seems that the dreaded rumors are true.  Current show runner Steven Moffat, perhaps using the foil of regeneration as a means, appears to be leaning towards changing the gender of the Doctor.        

Let’s put aside for a moment the show’s aforementioned blind acceptance and eager embrace of nearly every socio-cultural aberration that comes down the pike.  Let’s put aside for a moment that the show has long since abandoned some of the roots of the original series, those roots which successfully endeared it to millions of fans worldwide, and made the character of the Doctor into a legend.  If the gender change rumors are true, Mr. Moffat appears to have run out of creative ideas, and is attempting to fill that void by fundamentally changing one of the foundational pillars of the show.  To the original show’s creators, the Doctor’s gender was not an accident, nor did the various creative teams that worked on the show ever dream of changing it; nor would the show’s millions of fans have wanted them to.  However, in the “Lady Gaga culture” of 2014, it's considered vogue (and the pinnacle of sophistication) to see men and women as no different from one another.  Gender, once immutable in all but rare cases, is now freely interchangeable and can be chosen by people (even children) like picking out a flavor of ice cream, regardless of nature’s determinations at conception.  The influential  managers of the entertainment industry either agree with this deeply flawed notion, or go along with it, out of fear of reprisals from the radical cultural mafia.  In fact, men and women are essentially different from one another, and those differences have everything to do with why writers chose particular genders for their characters.

The Doctor’s “maleness” is just as much a part of his character as femaleness is part of any great female character.  The Doctor has always been a strong, reliable, protective male role model; throughout the years he's been alternatively cast as a wise grandfather, favorite uncle, and protective big brother; ever respectful, loyal, and ethical.  Mr. Moffat has reportedly said that he has been easing his audience into slowly accepting this absurd change because he recognizes that part of that audience is conservative.  That's no doubt true.  But does he believe that only so-called conservatives will object to this insanity?  How would fans of the X-Files, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, or Star Trek: Voyager have reacted to gender changes in the female lead characters of those shows?   What if the producers of those shows had used some sci-fi-fantasy-based plot device to transform Dana Scully, Buffy Summers or Captain Kathryn Janeway into men?  The women's lib community, hardly conservatives, would have been up in arms, and rightfully so!  This proposed move doesn't just violate tradition, it violates basic common sense, which is shared by most fans up and down the spectrum of opinion.       

Before the advent of the current series, the Dr. Who universe shared a rich history that spanned nearly 40 years, which included well over 150 storylines worth of material (between TV installments and full length feature films).  While it is the prerogative of any producer of the current series to add to the show's lore, there's clearly been a wonderful tradition of using the original series as a touchstone when doing so.  That tradition has proved popular, as evidenced in the exuberance of fans and the increased viewership that accompany the occasional return of any of the original series' legendary villains.  Fans have always griped over actual or perceived violations of continuity in the storylines.  Transforming the Doctor into a woman would be the single biggest continuity flub in the history of the program.  There is simply no precedent anywhere in the show's wide-ranging mythos that points to timelord regeneration effecting gender change.  The only precedent in the new series was Moffat's  own disastrous recasting of the Master as a woman.  There was apparently no good reason for this move, other than its cheap shock value.  Imagine the disappointment of a long-time fan who thought this woman might be the Rani until it was revealed to be the Master (oh, the pain!).  It seems that the current series' producers are more concerned with infusing the show with radical socio-political commentary than they are with emulating the imaginative excellence that brought the show to its past heights.

In closing, I implore Mr. Moffat to reconsider the direction in which he's purportedly going.  I believe him to be a thoughtful, talented man, but if his creative well is running a bit dry in terms of a fresh direction for Dr. Who, then he should pass the baton to a successor with fresh ideas.  Confusing innovation  with changing the lead character's  gender would be a lamentable mistake.  If this much talked-about change comes to pass, this diehard fan of 35 years will be permanently tuning out.  And I would ask my fellow fans to seriously consider this issue.  I obviously disagree sharply with those of you who support the proposed gender change.  But I have a message for those of you who do not: don't be bullied by the forces of social conformity who claim to be champions of inclusiveness while they attempt to exclude you from the debate.  We must present our opinion cogently and respectfully, but also with tenacity.  The integrity of a science fiction legend hangs in the balance.

America's Last Best Hope: An Article V Convention Of The States (by ContraSuggest)

In the end, only the truth matters, and I'm going to continue to tell the truth as I understand it, no matter the resistance I encounter.  None of the conventional methods and instrumentalities will be effective in saving the American people from the tyranny that our founders feared.  That tyranny is here now.  The old methods have been used over and over and over again, while the situation just gets worse by great orders of magnitude.  And if something effective isn't done soon to counter the powerful forces arrayed against us, the country will devolve into a primordial stew of decadence, decline, and irrelevancy.  We're no longer at the precipice; we've slipped over the edge of the cliff and are on the way down to destruction and oblivion.  However, even at this late hour, we still have one chance to pull ourselves back, but we do not have much time.  There is only one last card for constitutional conservatives left to play, and if we don't draw it soon, our Constitution will unravel completely and all will be lost.  This isn't exaggeration, disinformation, pessimism, alarmism, negativity, deception or doomsaying - it's the God honest truth.  There's no room in the conservative movement for the weak-kneed; we're not a bunch of porcelain dolls who will simply shatter when faced with the hard, cold truth.  If you can't handle the heat of the truth, then get the hell out of the kitchen.  Sugarcoated fantasies have no place in this war for the heart and soul of the nation. 

 Electing more Republicans is not the answer. 

 The Republican Party is not the party of conservatism.  That's not to say that there are no conservatives in the party, but rather that conservatives amount only to a small minority.  Most of the GOP is made up of big government technocrats who have been, and continue to be, complicit in the loss of our liberties that comes with a massive expansion of federal power.  This group remains in firm control of the party, and instead of shielding the American people from the abuses of a rapacious federal government, it willingly colludes with the Democrats to obliterate what's left of our liberty.  The Republican establishment shares the same goals as the Democrats, they just aim to achieve them at a slower pace.  That's why the establishment Republican's hearts are not in the fight against Obama; they eventually want most of what he wants.  The Walking Dead have just finished electing overwhelming majorities of Republicans to both houses of Congress.  Many who are concerned about Obama's unlawful executive actions and his continued expansion of Mordor's power are rejoicing.  On the eve of the election I predicted that a Republican victory would do nothing to halt Obama's dictatorial advance.  Was I correct?  In a word, yes.  Once again the Republican leadership has rolled over for our half-a-commie president and handed the Democrats, who they just crushed in the November election, everything that they wanted in the form of a pork filled, waste laden Omnibus bill that will spend your money through September of next year!  Hear this- Republicans have just annihilated the Dems, yet have allowed them to decide the budget for the next nine months!  If that's not incomprehensible and idiotic enough, the Republican leadership has unilaterally disarmed Congress by relinquishing its constitutional power of the purse, allowing Obama to illegally legalize millions of illegals.  Name one aspect of Obama's agenda that has been curtailed by the election of Republican majorities in Congress.  You cannot name one.  Remember, over the course of the past 25 years we have had some periods of Republican majorities in Congress, as we have had Republican presidents.  Where has it gotten us?  The government now spends more, taxes more, regulates more, and is in more debt than it has ever been in our history, and Mordor is becoming more and more powerful, regulating and micro managing every single aspect of our lives.  Yes, I would rather have a wishy-washy Republican in office rather than some outright socialist Democrat, but in the end the difference is negligible.  Let me finish this point with the following analogy: a Democrat Party victory is like the nation getting a pancreatic cancer diagnosis; a Republican Party victory is like the nation getting a colon cancer diagnosis.  They're both cancer; one is just more treatable.  How sad that our elected officials are so contemptuous of our constitutionally granted liberties that they can accurately be compared to a cancer.                  

 How An Article V Convention Would Work

Our Constitution provides two methods for amendment.  In the 227 years that document has been in effect, one of those methods has never been used.  It was purposefully conceived by the Founders so that the states and the people would have a peaceful means of recourse in the event that the federal government became oppressive.  Embedded in Article V, this provision allows for the state legislatures to call for a convention of the states to discuss and propose amendments to the Constitution.  In the event that two-thirds of the state convention delegates agree to the proposed amendment(s), then the 50 state legislatures would vote them up or down; if three-fourths agree, the amendment(s) are automatically ratified as part of the Constitution.  It's important to note that the federal government, (the president, Congress, and the courts) are shut out of this process and can only observe as it unfolds; they are not in any way legally empowered to intervene.  With a lawless president in office, the federal government carrying out unconstitutional acts on a daily basis, and a majority of state legislatures in the hands of Republicans, the time for an Article V convention is now!  An organization called The Convention Of The States Project is laboring hard to start the process by providing legal informational council to state legislators who're committed to the process.  Legislatures in several states have formed exploratory committees to get the ball rolling.  I know that some feel that this process is too much of a long shot, that it could be co-opted by leftists, that it's too risky.  My answer to those fears is that this is the only option open to us, short of unconstitutional actions and open, armed rebellion.  Since the alternative is a massive bloodbath, I chose the Article V convention process.  Put simply, we cannot save our Constitution by violating it.

Thanks to the great Mark Levin, who taught me most of what I know about this subject, I hope I haven't misrepresented his wisdom. 

Why The Republican Election Victory is Almost Meaningless (by ContraSuggest)

My goal has always been for this blog to be more than just a collection of silly, cliché-filled rants.  A fair amount of research is done in order that these posts will be intelligible, and, I hope, cause people to at least think harder about the various subjects addressed. I know that the several people who regularly visit here are deep thinkers, who care enough about our country, that they're deeply troubled at the disastrous direction in which we're headed.  We have always shared frustration over our inability to get through to most of our co-workers and acquaintances on the subject of the ongoing national crisis.  Some of you are probably celebrating the sweeping nationwide Republican victories after Tuesday night's election.  There are some things to celebrate for sure: here on Long Island, six-term liberal Democrat Congressman Timothy Bishop, the Island's political version of the Ebola virus, suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the young Lee Zeldin.  Lee has now rid Long Island of two political cancers; several years ago having defeated the benumbed Brian Foley (sponsor of NY's dreaded MTA Tax) in a race for the state's 2nd senate district (thank you Lee, we owe you a great debt!).  The malicious and deranged Senate majority leader Harry Reid has been deposed, and the Democrats are now relegated to minority status in both houses of Congress.  OK, the election is over now, so let's put the party hats and hooters away and come back down to earth, shall we?

On election night, a good friend texted me a note saying that it was looking good for the GOP, but that he wasn't sure how it all translated for constitutional conservatives like us.  His implication hit the nail on the head; here's what I wrote back:

Allow me to translate: RINOs, who possess neither the will nor the courage to stand up to Obama, will now control Congress.  He'll now use his executive authority and the power of his executive regulatory departments (all unconstitutionally) to continue to dismantle the republic.  Efforts by the few in Congress who have the will to stop him, will be marginalized by the RINOs, stymied by the bureaucracy and the leftist courts, and eviscerated by Obama's media-driven spin machine.

Even prior to the election, the befuddled Mitch McConnell announced that, if Republicans were victorious, he would agree to the passage of a massive Omnibus bill that would consolidate multiple bills sought after by Obama and Reid.  These Omnibus packages are stuffed with pork on a grand scale that represent billions in wasteful spending.  McConnell's warped rationale is that he wants to quickly conclude business in the lame duck session so that the new Republican majority can start with a clean slate in January.  He's already sold us out and he hasn't even assumed his role as majority leader yet.  The Obama administration was very quiet about their plans for a post-election, unilateral executive branch regulatory blitz.  The White House Mafia has mobilized the federal immigration authorities, the EPA, HUD, and other federal departments to unleash imperial rules and regulations, in an end-run around Congress, to grant amnesty for millions of illegals, enshrine new restrictions on power plants, institute new unnecessary federal minority housing laws, and more.  All of this in violation of the constitution's separation of powers, steamrolling over state and local authorities with a massive, liberty curtailing federal/executive branch power grab.  The lame duck senate will be complicit in all of this; not to mention that body's likely rubber stamping of the capo-in-chief 's midnight judges and other nominees, before the Republicans take over in the new year.

And how will the new senate RINO majority react to all of this?  C'mon everyone, you know they'll do absolutely nothing about it!  Sure, McConnell will mumble a little whimpering, feckless protest, there'll be the usual few brave voices who will speak up, sponsor legislation, and deliver a few scathing floor speeches.  But those few will not have the backing of the leadership of their own party, their efforts will die, we'll lose another modicum of our liberty, and it will be back to business as usual.  There have been Republican majorities before, and what have they gotten us?  The federal government is spending more, taxing more, regulating more, and in more debt than it has ever been in our history; this proceeds apace no matter who's in charge.  Phony tofu conservatives like Mitch McConnell, John Boehner, and their big-government liberal lap dogs are not the answer, and we all know it. 

 

So now that I took a crap on your parade, what's the solution to this huge and ever-growing mess?  Well, to be perfectly honest, there are no easy solutions.  We must continue to educate the public, continue to encourage voters to select constitutional conservatives in Republican primaries, continue to write checks to conservative advocacy organizations, continue to write letters of protest when our elected officials blow their noses in the constitution, and yes, vote for the slightly less evil Republicans over the more evil Democrats, until such time that conservatives gain a real foothold in the GOP party machine.  But make no mistake, these steps, while necessary, will not succeed in saving this country.  For years, the great Mark Levin has been educating the public through his nationally syndicated radio show and his outstanding books.  He's provided the roadmap for national salvation; now we need to follow it.  Ultimately, the only chance we have of turning the ship around, is to continue to encourage state legislators all over the country to sign on to an Article V convention of the states, to consider amendments to our federal Constitution.  This will be one of the most important national dialogs in our history, and it must take place if liberty is to survive in this country.  Only amendments to the Constitution, designed to reinforce the Founders' intent, that we have so callously and foolishly abandoned, are obligatory.  We need amendments to establish balanced budgets, term limits for all elected officials and the federal judiciary, to abolish the 17th amendment, and to generally reinforce the separation of powers and states' rights; necessary constitutional principles which have been intentionally flouted on the way to a counterfeit socialist "utopia."  Pretending that last night's Republican election victory is the answer to America's institutional problems, is just simply delusional.

Miriam's Prayer (Sailing Home From Byzantium) (by ContraSuggest)

As I entered the room the not unpleasing odor of scented disinfectant immediately reminded me that I had done quite a thorough cleaning up only a few days before.  I gently closed the finished oak door behind me, an act that is usually quite effective in sealing off the pressures of the outside world.  But not today.  It was my first day, just after 3 o’clock on a particularly dreary Wednesday afternoon, and there were under three hours left until the next shift.  For the first time since the previous afternoon I was completely alone.  I had neither the energy nor the will to remove my coat and shoes and so I collapsed on the bed as I was.  I felt very much like some weary travelling salesman arriving in the middle of the night in the lonely hotel room of some strange town.   Along with my reading glasses, I pulled some other flotsam from my left-hand coat pocket and placed it all next to me on the old nightstand on top of an old book of poetry by Yates.  The nightstand was part of a hundred-year-old bedroom set that originally belonged to my father’s grandparents.  The set was composed of two nightstands, a dresser, armoire, and a bedstead with head and footboards.  The walnut set, with its burl panels and applied decorations, gave the room a touch of old world décor that hearkened the past and denied the present.  It had many owners throughout the years until I inherited it about ten years ago.  There was an awful lot of history in that old set; it had a lot of character, from the cigarette burn on the front right surface edge of the dresser to the slight musty, storage room type odor of the lightly colored wood.  The top of the furniture, as always, was littered with everything from clothes to the tiny, bundled pieces of paper that I often jot scattered thoughts on and leave lying around.  On the dresser, draped around the shade of a small bronze colored lamp, was a set of wooden rosary beads that a family friend brought home from a recent sojourn in Medjugorje.  Aside from a small, makeshift entertainment center that houses a TV/VCR and stereo/CD mini-system, cabinets containing hundreds of compact disks, LP Records, and video and audiocassette tapes occupied the remainder of the floor space.  An anachronistic contrast to the olden furniture for sure, and although any self-respecting practitioner of Feng Shui would condemn the room as a functional nightmare, it worked well for me.

The architecture in this section of the house included permanent shelves, about three and a half feet from the floor that jutted out from the wall about a foot, and ran nearly the whole inside perimeter of each room.  In my room, this permanent shelf, with the exception of a few scattered refugees, contained my ever-growing, collection of arcane books.  On the gray painted long wall above the books hung a framed replica of Van Gogh’s painting of an almond tree.  Van Gogh, although a tragic figure who usually captured the sorrows of life through his art, had created this painting in honor of the birth of his nephew.  Its bright yellows, rich china blues, and forest greens reflected joy from the heart of a man who was said to have been despondent most of his life.  That symbolism was very personal to me.  On the ceiling just above the bed I had installed a strip of electric track from which hung four adjustable bell-shaped fixtures.  The fixtures each contained a different colored light bulb which, when switched on, created an atmosphere in the room that lay somewhere between that of a planetarium lobby and Greg Brady’s psychedelic attic bedroom.  The room contained everything that I would ever need; it was always my greatest refuge from the vicissitudes of life.  As I lay pondering, I came to realize that my right hand was still in my coat pocket clutching the small laminated card that on one side read “In Loving Memory Of” followed by my mother’s name, and the likeness of Christ on the other.  The dates read “April 8, 1942” followed by “February 12, 1995,” just two days ago.  I placed the card on the nightstand in between a mug, half full with day-old tea, and an old deck of worn tarot cards.  I was dreading the next shift; I almost couldn’t bear to go back.  As I drifted off into a fitful sleep, earnestly praying for the first time since childhood, I was forced to face the cold fact that within the erstwhile protective confines of the room, I would no longer be granted asylum.

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

As I sat on my parents’ four poster bed, switching through the TV channels looking for cartoons, I stopped on the Channel 7 News and listened to Bill Beutel for a minute.  No one really seemed to think that Ford would be the president for very long; my parents and teachers seemed to agree with the 6’oclock news reporters, who treated him as if he was babysitting the White House until a new, legitimate, fulltime president came along.  Ford had been the vice president under Nixon, who everyone seemed to hate for some scandal called Watergate, which, as an eight year old boy, I knew less about than I knew about Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity.  All I did know is that it was a very very bad thing, and Nixon was forced to resign the presidency in disgrace over it.  Although it didn’t cause me to lose any sleep, I found the whole notion of a lawless, rogue president to be disturbing, which further alienated me to the evil Republican Party, to which Nixon and Ford both belonged.  As usual, in the absence of either cartoons or cheesy sci-fi programs, there was nothing on TV that could hold my attention for more than a minute.  As my mind wandered, so did my eyes; from the wood and ivory crucifix hanging above the bed, to my father’s mahogany wooden gun cabinet that contained his hunting rifles, to my mother’s nightstand, which always had some book or other laying on top of it.  My mother often read in the evenings before bed; usually some adult-themed stuff that was off limits to us kids, which always seemed vaguely dangerous.  I always made a point of thumbing through those strange books when she wasn’t around, to try to learn what I could about subjects forbidden to eight-year olds.  But on this particular occasion, I immediately recognized the book that was on her nightstand, and it made my blood run cold as I drew closer to pick it up.  The Exorcist had also been adapted into a major motion picture of the same name, which was said to be the most frightening movie of all time; it was advertised on TV, in all the newspapers, and a lot of the kids at school talked about it, often in hushed tones.  This movie was scaring the shit out of some adults that I thought couldn’t be scared of anything.  My hand trembled as I picked the book up off the nightstand.  I didn’t know the whole story, but as far as I could tell, based on a true account, it was about this innocent little girl, not much older than I was at the time, who gets possessed by a demon that forces her to do all sorts of disgusting things to her mother and the two Catholic priests who attempt to save her.  The understated, yet terrifying, cover photo was a slightly obscured image of the little girl’s face while apparently in the beginning stages of her possession.  Unlike the Watergate scandal, the very existence of this book most definitely made me lose sleep.  Many a night I lay awake in bed, frozen in fear that a demon would enter into my life as had happened to the girl in the story.  I very quickly learned how to pray.

Our Father, Who art in heaven: Sanctificetur nomen tuum: Adveniat regnum tuum: Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo, et in terra.  Give us this day our daily bread: Et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et dimittimus debitoribus nostris. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. Amen.

The well-dressed man in the dark suit with the strange symbol pinned to his lapel seemed to know everything about me.  He knew my parents, my sisters, and minute details about my grandparents that he was seemingly too young to know from personal experience.  Yet he spoke with an air of well-informed eloquence about my family that impressed me no end.  I was puzzled when he told me that he had never been particularly close with any of them, yet had always wished to be.  He made several other strange statements, the most remarkable of which was that he could help me deal with my grief in unique ways.  He handed me a business card which I couldn’t read because I had earlier neglected to grab my glasses on my way out of the house; I could barely make out the very same symbol on the card that he sported on his lapel.  I was about to press him for more information as I placed the card in my inside coat pocket, when we were interrupted by others wishing to express condolences.  The man stepped to the back of the parlor, and as I greeted others, I noticed that he proceeded to stare at me with a somewhat disturbing grin on his face.  After about fifteen minutes he was gone, although I never actually saw him leave.  As the flow of people began to die down, I slipped into the lobby, but there was no sign of the mysterious stranger.  Exhausted, I went off to a quiet, low-lit alcove, slipped into a large brown leather easy chair and once again drifted off into an uneasy sleep.


Ave Maria, gratia plena: the Lord is with thee, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus.  Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in the hour of our death. Amen.

I couldn’t remember how long I had been trapped down below in the hold of the old galleon.  It was so dark I could hardly discern the layout of the room, but as I felt around I discovered a bed, some old furniture, books, a deck of cards, a string of wooden beads, a still-warm cup half-filled with what smelled like tea, and a plate on which there were several pieces of hard dry bread.  Somehow I finally managed to make my way to the foot of the steep, long staircase that presumably led up to the deck.  It felt as if I had been so cold, for so long, that I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to once again feel the sun against my face.  Thoughts of sunshine quickly left my mind though, for any weather inclement enough to create the turbulence that buffeted me violently from side to side, as I slowly began my ascent, would surely blot out the sun with little effort.  Trying to maintain my balance under these conditions was hard enough; to make matters worse the dilapidated stairway’s splintered boards wreaked havoc on the bottoms of my bare feet.  The room I was leaving behind contained everything necessary for my basic survival, and what lay up on the deck was almost certainly malignant.  I kept questioning my decision to leave these relatively familiar surroundings, I so badly wanted to turn back, but some unseen force kept me going nonetheless.  After what seemed like an eternity I finally reached the top of the staircase and faced the final obstacle in my attempt to reach the deck.

The towering oak door that stood before me was ominous with its peeling, weathered surface, and thanks to a small dimly lit oil lamp mounted above the door, I could barely make out small circular marks resembling burns left from extinguished cigarettes.  Despite its old, rundown appearance it was quite sturdy and formed a near-perfect seal with the buck; the doorknob was locked tight and very little light could be seen through the cracks.  I could hear heavy rain pounding the door on the other side, accompanied by intermittent cracks of thunder; strong flashes of lightning provided momentary illumination in the near darkness, as trickles of water found their way underneath the door.  The weather outside presumably had grown worse during my ascent, as was evidenced by the ever-worsening rocking of the ship.  Even though I could barely keep my footing I continued to try to get the door open, my efforts included throwing myself against the barrier in frustration.  Finally, I realized that despite my best efforts the door wasn’t going to budge; worse still, the turbulence had become even more severe.  Sitting down on the narrow landing in front of the door with my feet braced against one wall and my back against the other was the only way to save myself from falling back down the staircase.  There I sat for a long while, and at the point where my body had become sufficiently exhausted, I realized that my only prospect was to descend the stairs once again as best I could, and forget this crazy notion of ever getting free.  As I sat with my eyes closed and head bowed, the turbulence abruptly ceased.  The suddenness of the change was so stark that I could hardly believe it.  One moment the most violent shock waves, next the quietest stillness.  I opened my eyes and raised my head only to see the large door, ominous and sturdy-looking as ever, gently and slowly swing open, seemingly by itself.  Much to my surprise, almost shock really, I was nearly blinded by the sun burning brightly overhead.  Not only wasn’t there a cloud in the sky but the deck was completely dry, no sign of moisture whatsoever.  Raising my hand before me to shield my eyes from the sun, I took my first step out onto the deck.

The warmth of the sun was heaven-sent, it seemed to immediately rejuvenate me, and I no longer felt the pain of the bruises that I’d sustained climbing up the stairs and throwing myself against the “impenetrable” door.  The sails were up and the ship was cutting water, nicely making-way, but again, no crew in sight.  Was this a ghost ship?  The strange, and vaguely familiar symbol on the flag flying atop the mast struck a raw nerve in me, but I wasn’t exactly sure why.  I walked to the edge of the deck and looked over the side in an effort to spot some land; I saw nothing but calm, blue seas seemingly stretching into the infinite.  Finally I decided that I needed to make my way to the ship’s helm; for if any member of the crew was still on board they would most certainly be there.  If no one were steering this vessel then all would be lost anyway, because I don’t know the first thing about navigating a ship.  After exploring for a while I finally stumbled up into the wheel room and found, to my disappointment and horror, that it was completely empty.  Apparently someone had placed one end of a long wooden pole between the rungs of the wheel, the other end of which fit into a hole drilled into the floor.  This presumably was a makeshift automatic pilot that prevented the ship from deviating too far to the port or starboard from its intended course; whatever that was.  On a table next to an old dust covered sextant, there was some barely legible writing on a an old parchment, which seemed to make reference to the "holy city of Byzantium", which made little sense to me.  I tossed the parchment back onto the table in frustration, if there truly wasn’t anyone on board, my options were limited.  Would I helplessly wait until the ship ran aground, collided with another vessel, or sank?

As I exited the wheel room I began to call out in desperation to anyone who might be in earshot, but no one answered.  Finally I thought I spotted a darkly dressed figure, barely within my field of vision, down on the deck.  I bolted from the wheel room down toward the direction of the man.    My heart was beating so fast I thought that it would pound its way right through my rib cage.  I called out as I approached the man, who didn’t turn to face me until I was right behind him.  As he laid his eyes on me, his expression at once changed from a twisted scowl to an almost sinister grin.  Out of breath, and before I could rattle-off any one of a thousand questions rolling around in my head, he temporarily disarmed me by warmly greeting me, by name.  As I gathered my thoughts, I sized up the oddly familiar stranger.  He was smartly dressed all in black; a fully buttoned mock-collar shirt, pleated trousers, distressed leather bucket boots, and a single-breasted crushed-velvet frock coat.  His embroidered lapel emblem was identical to the eerie symbol on the ship’s flag.  “Who are you,” I sputtered.  “My name” he coolly responded, “is unimportant.”  He extended his hand in welcome, which I ignored, “I don’t know you, so how the fuck do you know my name?”  “You’re right, you don’t know me, but I know everything about you, and I can help you,” he smugly replied.  “Well, you can start by telling me how I got here!”  “You came from below,” he answered, “don’t you remember?  I was the one who released you from the hold, or did you think that door opened by itself?”  “I have no idea how it opened,” I shot back, “and no more smart ass answers, how did I get on this ship?!”  Before he could answer, I found myself getting lightheaded, my vision became blurred and suddenly the landscape began to change; the clear blue skies and calm seas gave way to choppy waters and dark overcast clouds, as the ship seemed to gain speed.  In the distance, but rapidly approaching, was a huge landmass beginning to fill the horizon, ablaze like an inferno.  I never imagined anything like it.  It got so hot so fast that within a minute my clothes were drenched with sweat and my skin was burning.  My nameless interlocutor stood there, seemingly unaffected by the searing heat, displaying that same smug and unsettling grin; I clenched my right fist with the intention of smashing it off his face.  Suddenly, I found that I was unable to move a muscle, as the intense heat continued to burn me alive.  Just before the ship was about to collide with the massive conflagration, I could read his lips as he mouthed the words, “you have always been on this ship.”  The last thing I remember seeing before blacking out was a broken string of wooden beads in his hand.

Gloria Patri, et Filio, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.  As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

There’s possibly no greater comfort to an insecure, socially awkward, pre-teen than a two month long summer vacation.  When I was a kid, those long summer days filled with countless hours of T.V., toys, comic books, and swimming were well-needed medicine for a mentally frail boy who, during the school year, averaged one mini nervous breakdown per week.  Well, that may be overstating the case just a bit; there were some down sides to summer vacation; like my father breaking my balls from time to time about mowing the lawn or cleaning up the house.  Then there were the occasional fist fights with assorted neighborhood thugs, who seemed to deal with their summer boredom by making my life miserable.  But most of the time I was relaxing and having fun.  On Saturday nights my parents would occasionally invite the neighbors over for coffee or drinks, and we kids would go do our thing while the grownups did theirs.  Once in a while I would get to spying on the grownups, and on several occasions witnessed some pretty disturbing stuff.  No crazy sexual swinging crap, or anything like that, but weird and frightening nonetheless.  One night, for instance, our neighbors from across the street came by with one of those foldable lightweight aluminum card tables, so naturally I figured an exhilarating game of pinochle would soon break out.  But that’s not what happened at all; instead all the adults sat around the table, lightly placed their fingertips on the table’s edges in front of them, and took turns asking questions aloud; not to one another, but to some unobserved party.  The strange questions, beginning with “is there anyone out there?” were of the yes or no variety.  Often, but not always, the table would slightly, gently rise and fall to the kitchen’s tile floor.  As the neighbors explained to my parents, one tap constituted a “yes” response; two taps meant “no”.  At first I thought our neighbors were playing some kind of trick on my parents, but as I observed closely it was clear that the table was moving all by itself.  As I sat out of sight, watching, spellbound, the atmosphere became more and more bizarre as long Q&A sessions ensued purportedly with some physically absent responder.  The subjects included predictions of future events, information about deceased relatives, and other illicit themes.  There seemed to be a vague trepidation in the air during the whole session, as if something seductive and dangerous was being released from some unseen vessel.  Apparently, the session was considered to be over when the table stopped moving and several questions went unanswered.  On this occasion, after a thrice repeated unanswered query, an eerie hushed silence fell over the room; suddenly, and without apparent cause, an empty crystal punch bowl tumbled off the countertop and smashed into hundreds of pieces on the ground, scaring the shit out of everyone, causing the women to scream, and nearly causing me to soil myself.  After cleaning up the mess on the floor, the shaken adults poured some more drinks and excitedly talked about the experience for hours.  All these years later I can’t remember much of the details of those conversations; all I can remember is the pall of dark apprehension that seemed to fall over the house, and my feelings of impending dread.

By the sign of the cross all magic is stopped, all sorcery confounded, all the idols are abandoned, and all senseless pleasure ceases, as the eye of faith looks up from earth and perceives heaven- Saint Athanasius

The brightest, whitest, most brilliant light that I had ever seen was all around me, yet my eyes were as relaxed as if I had opened them in the dark.  My skin no longer burned, and at first there was nothing else to be seen other than the beautiful light.  As I became more aware of my surroundings, it occurred to me that I was laying on my back looking upward.  I wouldn’t have known this except for the lovely woman’s face looking down at me, my head resting in her lap as she lovingly held the weight of my sins in her arms.  Her face was white as pure light and her clothes beamed like the sun; somehow the light of her soft face outshone even the omnipresent glow of our radiant surroundings.  Miriam seemed to know my questions before I asked them, answering with comforting assurances and often speaking of her loving son, whose light she reflected onto me.  I told her of my experience on the galleon, and how it still terrified my soul to its core.  Before I completed the thought, I found myself once again standing on the deck of the old ship, but this time the immaculate lady was at my side.  Her son now reigned here; as I came to realize later, he always had.  No longer at sea, the ship was now docked in the harbor of a magnificent shining city, the quayside bustling with activity; stevedores at work, all manner of people coming and going.  Atop the ship’s cruciform mast, the flag that once bore the baleful icon of the well-dressed man was gone, and in its place was a banner marked with the image of a lamb.  When my lady spoke, I could more feel her words than hear them, “you have glimpsed into hell, where the souls of poor sinners go.  In order to save them, and yourself, God wishes to establish in the world devotion to my immaculate heart.”  I acknowledged her words without speaking, as the lines of her face began to dissolve into the pure white light.  She continued, “sacrifice yourself for sinners and pray the rosary daily to help sinners avoid the fires of Gehenna.”  Before my lady’s image disappeared completely, she motioned for me to go ashore.  After disembarking, I looked back, and she was gone.

Domine Iesu, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of Thy mercy

I peacefully awoke in the lobby of the funeral home feeling well rested; the final shift had arrived at last.  I checked the breast pocket of my coat, finding the well-dressed man’s business card.  Getting up and walking towards the parlor, I tore the card into pieces and deposited it into the nearest garbage pail.  And for possibly the first time in my life, as I crossed the threshold from the lobby into the parlor, I realized that there might be possibilities open to me other than decline and despair.

Hail, holy Queen, Mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn, then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us, and after this, our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus. O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.  Pray for us, O holy Mother of God.  That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

The History of Amerika’s Cartoon Government (part 2) (by ContraSuggest)

In part one of this series, we laid out much of the how, where, why, and when the corrupt Amerikan political system came into existence; how it persists in an even more dangerous form to this day, and how it has resulted in the wholesale destruction of the constitutional system created by the Founders.  Here in part two, we’re going to concentrate on the shape of modern-day political corruption in our state governments, specifically in New York State, where crooked, machine politics was practically invented.

It’s important here to understand the seductive and all-consuming nature of Amerikan political corruption.  Undoubtedly, from time to time there are some truly good men and women who decide to run for public office because they want to effect positive change.  Many of them eschew constitutional principles simply because they do not understand the constitutional system put in place by the Founders, nor do they care to. If that weren’t tragic enough, most soon discover the need to solicit lots of campaign cash from various special interests, and to make lots of campaign promises that are called-in once they’re in office.  If elected, legislators find it necessary to almost immediately start running for reelection; begin lavishing patronage jobs on friends and family members, possibly with good intentions (like trying to help friends or relatives who are out of work). Unfortunately, this practice precludes them from criticizing similar practices by other legislators, thus propagating a crooked system.  The need for electoral support and ever more campaign cash makes it difficult not to cave-in to special interest demands, like those of the public employee unions, who fill legislators’ campaign coffers with cash.  The crack-like addiction makes ‘going along to get along’ much easier than standing up against the forces of corruption.  As illustrated in part one, the New York (City and State) of the 1820s was the birthplace of the political instrumentalities and much of the “innovations” that accelerated the nation’s path toward wide-spread institutionalized corruption.  In the early 21^st century, New York is still the poster child for all that is destructive in American politics.    

Let’s consider how the surrender of New York State’s politicians to special interest pressures has nearly bankrupted the state, and overburdened citizens with crippling taxation and regulation.  Corruption in the funding of public programs has led the state to the brink of fiscal insolvency.  For the sake of brevity, we will concentrate on one notable area where financial corruption flourishes: New York State’s bloated Medicaid program.  The Medicaid program, mandated by the Feds and inaugurated in New York in 1966, was the brainchild of uber-liberal Republican Governor Nelson Rockefeller.  Rockefeller was, in today’s vernacular, a RINO, who made a career of out-pandering liberal Democrats, and purposefully designed Medicaid to offer lavish medical benefits to the “poor”, while raking in the maximum amount of Federal matching funds (funding was to be shared in a 50-50 Fed/State split).  New York’s Medicaid bill was quickly pushed through the legislature with almost no real consideration or public review; amendments were recklessly added by legislators, one of which mandated that Albany would pick up only half of the state’s portion of Medicaid costs; the rest of the financial burden was pushed onto the local governments.  This assured that the program would be an unmitigated fiscal disaster from day one, and it got progressively worse as time wore on.  Today, the average NY county devotes more than half of its county taxes just to covering its state-imposed share of Medicaid costs. 

Medicaid benefits are controlled by city and county officials who, for many years, have used them as patronage.  The legislature in Albany continually turn a blind eye to the runaway costs of Medicaid, and the massive deficits that it creates, because they look at it as just another constituency service.  Hundreds of thousands of health-care workers (represented by their powerful unions), health-care providers, and those receiving medical and nursing home benefits, are bestowed with Medicaid dollars in return for campaign cash and votes on Election Day.  In New York City hospitals, for instance, local politicians exercise wide control over everything from supervisory appointments down to which departments will receive funding and which ones won’t.  In a criminally dysfunctional atmosphere like this, where Medicaid services are doled out as political rewards by apparatchiks of the inner city politburo, Medicaid costs have, and will continue to spiral out of control, and consume ever-increasing portions of state and local government budgets.

The twisted morass of corruption and mismanagement is dizzying; consider the following:  New York State’s Medicaid budget is far bigger than California’s, a state which has over twice the population of NY.  Fraud runs rampant in the system (estimated to be in the double-digit billions), yet the Medicaid budget balloons every year (spending tripled between the 1980s and the early 2000s), while the fraud investigation unit gets smaller and smaller.  Despite a huge oversupply of state hospital beds, the powerful 1199 Healthcare Workers Union has continually blocked any cuts that would eliminate surplus jobs or hospitals.  Thanks to the mismanagement of Medicaid, New York State is hemorrhaging money, continually increasing taxes and regulations, going deeper and deeper into crippling debt, while doctor reimbursements continue to be reduced, and health care choices for the truly poor become more and more restricted.       

A complete list of New York’s Cartoon Government abuses would run far too long to include here; unfortunately the state’s Medicaid debacle is emblematic of how most government programs are run in the Empire State.  Education is another fraudulent cesspool of back-room deals and budget busting corruption.  These abuses are very much part of the crooked political culture in other states like New Jersey, California, Michigan, Illinois, and many others.  Our national woes will continue until these abuses are at least greatly curtailed; the first step to fixing our system is to identify the problems, which is what I am attempting to do with this series of posts.  Stay tuned for part 3.

Ten Solid Reasons Not To Vote for Hillary Clinton (Her Life of Lies, Scandal and Demagoguery) by ContraSuggest

With the exception of Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton is the politician whose popularity most astounds me.  I understand that a certain percentage of her backers are leftist political zombies who will support high-profile, self described “progressive” politicians no matter what.  But what’s the excuse for the rest of her supporters?  A strong case can be made that Hillary is nothing more than a pandering, unqualified political phony of the highest order.  After years of examining the woman’s public life, her education and career, it’s still hard to conclude exactly what she believes and why she believes it.  Are her politics more the product of empty career-advancing pragmatism, or hard core leftist convictions?  Not to mention that her resume and accomplishments are weak, relative to the trust that her libtard supporters place in her.  If her candidacy for president hadn’t been derailed by the Obama juggernaut during the 2008 Democrat Party primary, she would most certainly have been elected president. 

Most recently the Democrat Party’s propaganda arm (aka the New York Times) published a 7,500 word report on the Benghazi affair designed to absolve then Secretary of State Hillary of any wrongdoing in the Sept. 11, 2012 disaster.  It’s looking increasingly likely that she will capture the 2016 Democrat nomination for president, should she decide to run.  Given America’s current dim-witted and toxic socio-political zeitgeist, I seriously doubt there’s a Republican out there who can take her; so there’s a damn good chance we’d better get used to eight years of “Madame President.”  So why are most people in this country poised to vote for this empty pantsuit who fashions herself a “progressive”, after eight years of the wholesale destruction visited on the nation by progressivism under Oba Mao?  Well to be honest, I have no idea, and I’m through trying to diagnose the collective mental illness of the American electorate.  But through a quick review of Shillary’s career, I now offer ten solid reasons why electing her president is a monumentally stupid idea (there are hundreds of reasons, of course, but I distilled it down to 10 for the sake of brevity).  

1. The Anti-American Flower Child.  Hillary is firmly a child of the radical, counter-cultural 1960s, in whose fires her ideology was forged.  In the late 60s she attended Wellesley College, where her senior honor’s thesis was dedicated to the application of the theories of Saul Alinsky.  No one would argue that Alinsky is a far-left radical; his infamous, seminal book, Rules for Radicals, teaches how to use lies and distortions to discredit political enemies.  His theories have influenced a multitude of self-styled “community organizers” (aka. shit-stirers), from Ralph Nader to Jesse Jackson.  Hillary’s thesis was withheld from the public until the Clinton’s left the White House in 2001.

2. Hillary, Defender of Scum.  After graduating, Hillary moved on to Yale Law where she aided in the legal defense of Black Panther Party members accused of murder.  For those who don’t know, the Panthers were/are a militant Black Power organization founded in the 1960s by the radical racist murderer Huey Newton and his cohorts, that advocated the overthrow of the US government.  Newton proclaimed: “we make the statement, quoting from Chairman Mao, that Political Power comes through the Barrel of a Gun.”

3. Corporate Cowboy AND Defender of the Little Guy?  Over the years Hillary has benefitted greatly, both financially and politically, from her cozy relationship with the Wal-Mart Corporation.  She served as corporate council on the company’s board of directors; the company provided and paid for all of the Clinton's air travel during the 1992 presidential campaign; just prior to running for president, Hillary held thousands of shares of Wal-Mart stock; when she wrote her book “Living History,” it was marketed through Wal-Mart, and she visited Wal-Mart stores all over the country to do book signings. It’s no secret that Wal-Mart’s policies concerning their workers’ health care coverage, salaries and anti-union efforts have often come under fire from labor unions and other leftist dimwits, but nary a peep from Hillary.  The self-proclaimed crusader for the little guy, union advocate, and champion of a higher minimum wage has been largely silent about Wal-Mart’s “anti-worker” policies.  Despite these facts she has always shared enthusiastic union support and endorsements, along with support from Wal-Mart.  Politics certainly makes for strange bedfellows, especially when one is as big a public fraud as Hillary Clinton

4. Investment Genius?  In the late 1970s, when BJ Clinton ran for Governor of Arkansas, Hillary invested $1,000 in cattle commodities futures and, with the help of a friend who was general council for Tyson Foods, one of the state’s biggest businesses, saw that turned into $100,000, in a mere 6 months.  When questioned about how she managed this rapidly profitable investment strategy, she responded that she “read the Wall Street Journal.”  This may be ancient history, but it reeks of the corporate insider image that Hillary claims to oppose

5. Whitewater Witchery.  In the late 1980s, the Clintons invested in the Whitewater real estate project, and Hillary performed legal work for Morgan Guaranty Savings and Loan, which invested in the project and whose failure cost the Federal Government (the taxpayers) $73 million.  Whitewater later became the subject of congressional hearings and an independent council investigation, both of which were impeded when Rose Law Firm billing records were subpoenaed in July 1994, but were not found until they turned up in the residential quarters of the White House in January 1996 (hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes; put it in your pantry with your cupcakes).  Independent Council Robert Ray ended the investigation in September 2000, claiming that he could not prove that the Clintons had been involved in criminal activity, or that they concealed information from investigators, or obstructed justice.  In his final report in March 2002, Ray noted that Rose Law Firm records were found in the family quarters of the White House in January 1996 and that three witnesses told investigators that they saw her (Hillary Clinton) “carrying what had the appearance of the billing records in July 1995”; but he said that the evidence was insufficient to obtain and sustain a conviction beyond a reasonable doubt.  You be the judge

6. A Demagogue Goes to the Senate.  Toward the end of Bill Clinton’s administration, Hillary saw longtime NY senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s retirement as an opportunity to beef up her weak presidential resume.  The Clintons pulled out every stop during their final year in the White House to ingratiate themselves with New Yorkers, assigning an interest to the state and certain constituencies there, that they would not otherwise have expressed.  The failure of NY’s Republicans to run a strong candidate, the Clinton’s star power, and the impenetrable ignorance of downstate voters, combined to hand the office of senate to carpetbagger Hillary on a silver platter  

7. More Phony Baloney.  As senator, Hilary’s tired, shrill and recycled rhetoric was prone to hyperbolic fancies, describing the Bush administration’s domestic agenda as “radical,” bent on dismantling the “central pillars of progress in our country during the 20^th century” and seeking “to undo the New Deal.”  In reality, Bush presided over a wholesale expansion of the welfare state; he was responsible for ballooning the nation’s debt far beyond that of any other presidential administration up to that point in history.  Hillary showed herself to be a phony, class warfare demagogue of the basest variety

8. Old Blood and Guts.  After securing a spot on the Armed Services Committee, tough girl Senator Hillary, voted for the then politically popular Iraq use of force resolution.  For several years she defended her vote, stating that it was necessary but that we should not stay forever, yet fell short of saying we should establish a withdrawal date.  As the war drew on, the military situation deteriorated and public approval began to fall away.  Now eyeing a presidential run, Hilary had to curry favor with the anti-war left in the Democrat Party, and (SURPRISE!) changed her position strictly for political reasons.  If you need further proof of this assessment, consider this excerpt from Former Defense Secretary Robert Gates’ 2014 book Duty: Memoirs of a Secretary of War: “Hillary told the president that her opposition to the Iraq surge had been political because she was facing him in the Iowa primary.  …The president conceded vaguely that opposition to the Iraq surge had been political.  To hear the two of them making these admissions, and in front of me, was as surprising as it was dismaying.”  ‘Nuff Said!

9. Defining Hypocrisy: Hillary for President.  All through her 2008 primary campaign Hilary continuously made contradictory statements while pandering to different interest groups, and the press refused to call her on it.  I’ve already mentioned her spurious Iraq stance; her lies were legion, here are three more notable examples:    

• The New York Times released the Clinton's financials; it was revealed that Hillary made much of her money from the oil industry as she continued to demonize the oil industry.  The Clintons were heavily invested in Cisco Systems, a company that had been outsourcing jobs to India for years while she continued to demonize outsourcing, once again, pretending to be the indefatigable defender of the American worker. 
• Hillary commented to the Associated Press that President Bush could not take military action against Iran without congressional approval.  Two weeks later, she told an audience at AIPAC (The American Israel Public Affairs Committee) that US policy must be unequivocal, that Iran cannot develop nukes; the military option wouldn’t be taken off the table.  So she told AIPAC that, as president, she'll take out Iran's nuclear capability with military force if necessary; but she told the AP that Bush, who was weighing the same threat, couldn’t do it without congressional approval (which she knew congressional Democrats would never grant him).  So as president she pledged to do whatever it would take to prevent Iran’s nuclear capability, which Bush could not do without congressional approval
• Clinton accused Obama of giving a “wink-wink” to Canada regarding his anti-NAFTA (North American Free Trade Agreement) rhetoric.  It was then revealed that the Clinton campaign sent a letter to Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper stating that he should take Hillary's anti-NAFTA rhetoric with a grain of salt.

10. Those Who Live In Glass Houses.  It’s inconceivable that someone who was an integral part of the scandal-ridden Clinton Administration would have the unmitigated gall to characterize the Bush administration as an example of corruption and cronyism run amok.  But that’s exactly what Hillary did.  Her husband's administration was an ethical disgrace; quantifiably far, far worse than the Bush administration.  When we heard this crap come out of her mouth we thought she must be kidding, but she was actually serious!  The Clinton Administration set some interesting records in the field of executive branch ethics, here’s a smattering:

• The most convictions and guilty pleas of friends and associates of any administration ever
• The highest number of cabinet officials to come under criminal investigation in history
• The most witnesses to flee the country or refuse to testify in the course of legal investigations (of the administration’s fund raising)
• The first time in history that the first lady came under criminal investigation
• The largest criminal plea agreement ever in an illegal campaign contribution case
• The first president to be held in contempt of court
• The greatest amount of  illegal campaign contributions ever on record
• The greatest amount of campaign contributions from abroad
• The first president to ever be disbarred   

Conclusion:

Hillary has always portrayed herself as a champion of the little guy; she’s “for the children,” for the “uninsured,” for the “poor,” etc.  In her own life she has always been about privilege, many of the things she’s achieved in her life have been handed to her, and in the instances where she has helped the downtrodden, one can’t help but think she’s done so only because she knew that the cameras were rolling.  Like many liberal politicians, Hillary has used taxpayer funded giveaways in exchange for public affections, and lots of votes.  I’m hard-pressed to find an unpopular policy position that Hillary has taken a stand on, and that she continued to defend in spite of its continued unpopularity.  Hillary appears to believe that it's better to be popular and wrong than unpopular and right.

The bottom line with Hillary is, what seems to be a contradictory nature, actually makes perfect sense; she's at once a far-left ideologue and a slippery, pragmatic, political phony whose leftist core beliefs are trumped only by her desire to attain political power.  She may seem to renounce her leftism when it suits her, but she always returns to form later, after she’s reaped the political benefit of her erstwhile “change.”  Consistency is irrelevant in Orwell’s America, and she knows it; she can get away with her chicanery ad infinitum.  To the small percentage of constitutional conservatives in this country, Hillary comes off as a left-leaning opportunist who lacks sincerity.  This has just as much to do with her speaking style, a disengaged, almost emotionless monotone, as with her seemingly contradictory positions.  Her behavior and her record to date indicate that, as president, she'd take a poll every 5 minutes or so and find a way to convince the public that their wishes are being served by a vast expansion of federal government power.  We know that the opposite is true, but first we have to convince Neo that the Matrix is real; a tall order indeed.