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Gender: Male
Hometown: Long Island, NY
Member since: 2003 before July 6th
Number of posts: 39,200

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Gawd Awmightah--- let her rest in peace.

And, Donald-- no way are you ever off the hook for bringing this up.

BTW, how many here were happy with calling Joe S "Dead Intern Joe"?

Still happy about that?
Posted by TreasonousBastard | Tue May 26, 2020, 04:10 PM (9 replies)

Mark Twain's War Prayer-- Posted in "Editorials..." because it is...


The War Prayer
by Mark Twain

It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory with stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener.

It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety’s sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.

Sunday morning came — next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams — visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender!

Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation:

God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest,
Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!

Then came the “long” prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory —

An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher’s side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, “Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord and God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!”

The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside — which the startled minister did — and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:
“I come from the Throne — bearing a message from Almighty God!” The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. “He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import — that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of — except he pause and think. “God’s servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two — one uttered, and the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this — keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon your neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain on your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse on some neighbor’s crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

“You have heard your servant’s prayer — the uttered part of it. I am commissioned by God to put into words the other part of it — that part which the pastor — and also you in your hearts — fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard the words ‘Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!’ That is sufficient. The whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory — must follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!

“Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth into battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended in the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames in summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it —
For our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimmage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet!

We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.

(After a pause.) “Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits.”

It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.
Posted by TreasonousBastard | Mon May 25, 2020, 06:59 PM (6 replies)

NY's Wear-a-Mask video contest...

I posted this earlier, but it seems to have slipped away:


(I voted for "Don't be this guy", but it was a tough choice.)
Posted by TreasonousBastard | Sat May 23, 2020, 12:21 PM (11 replies)

New York's wear-a-mask video finalists...


(I voted for "Don't be that guy" -- but it was a tough choice)
Posted by TreasonousBastard | Sat May 23, 2020, 12:12 PM (0 replies)

WTF is this? "Will you wear a mask? "Depends on the situation..."

and other nonsense.

IT'S JUST A FUCKING MASK!! Put the damn thing on and shut up about it.

Posted by TreasonousBastard | Thu May 21, 2020, 01:09 PM (11 replies)

Having had around 50 years Trumpistry shoved down my throat as one of the side "benefits" of...

being a native born New Yorker, I suspect I have some idea what's driving him.

He's just a poor little kid looking for acceptance. But never learned how get it, or what to do with it. "Respect me, dammit!"

His father seemed to be happy just rolling around in the money vault, building the occasional hospital wing to keep certain investigations at bay, but otherwise ignoring the NY real estate hierarchy (which is something worth ignoring) or social scene. Not Donnie, who spent every waking hour trying to get the right handle on publicity to get him in with the real people and the important dinner invitations.

Never really worked, though. His biggest party invitations were to his own parties, and any PR coming from his offices was shunted aside on all but the slowest news days. Pathetic little rich boy nobody liked, but often tolerated. Never up on the dais for awards (unless he gave them to himself) or recognized for anything of value.

Laughed at more than anything else. Obama's swipes at him hurt so much because he new they were true, although he'd never admit it out loud. That dinner where Obama took him apart was just the thing to tip him over into ultimate revenge. Against Obama, the industry that didn't take him seriously, and the society that let it happen.

So, here we are-- President of the US. The ultimate insider. "You wouldn't let me in your club, so now look at my club. And no, you can't come in."

Posted by TreasonousBastard | Thu May 21, 2020, 12:22 PM (17 replies)

Any body read "The Jungle"? You should. It's about the Chicago meatpacking industry c.1900...

and available on Project Gutenberg. For free.

(Screw the Amazon ad when you google it)

Upton Sinclair was a wild-eyed socialist and wrote it as a workingman's screed. But that got lost in the disgusting descriptions of factory life. A worker falling into a lard vat, and the company couldn't be bothered to pull him out? "Every pie crust made in Chicago that week had a little bit of Igor in it."

Sinclair himself was more interested in our poor hero being paid with a $100 bill from some benefactor, but no one believed he earned a real C-note, so he couldn't get it cashed. He said he aimed at the nation's heart, but hit it's stomach.

Anyway, T. Roosevelt didn't believe it was that bad, so he sent a few of his guys up there to check it out-- they came back saying "You ain't gonna believe this, but it's worse.

So we got some pure food laws.

And this is the culture that's running the meatpacking biz, even today.
Posted by TreasonousBastard | Wed May 20, 2020, 11:24 PM (20 replies)

Anybody heard Trump on the Edenboro dam break? A city under 9' of water should...

merit at least one lousy tweet.

Oh, wait-- that's Gov. Whitmer.

Never mind.
Posted by TreasonousBastard | Wed May 20, 2020, 09:19 AM (19 replies)

Turned on MSNBC a few minutes ago, and Mika was pisstified. Seriously pisstified...

Seems like a tweet or so I missed (and I do miss a lot of them) attacked Joe and she just wasn't having any of that. Methinks it was the dead intern part that really got to her.

Anyway, slowly but surely...

And, if Trump's going dead intern on a newscaster, Biden is really going to have his hands full. Dirtiest campaign in history coming up.

(Daisy girl, where are you?)
Posted by TreasonousBastard | Wed May 20, 2020, 09:12 AM (24 replies)

Did I really hear Nicolle open her show saying Trump has now reduced himself from the leader of ...

world's leader in medicine, science, and technology to an internet troll?
Posted by TreasonousBastard | Mon May 18, 2020, 04:25 PM (16 replies)
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