In Which I Helped Topple the Soviet Union

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In 1984, I worked in the Chairman's Office at Reagan-Bush '84, which was located near the Capitol Building and another famous landmark, the Headquarters of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters.

The campaign manager, Ed Rollins, was connected to many of the more reasonable leaders in the labor movement. America still manufactured things in those days, so unions had more influence than they do today. The campaign had a significant and ultimately successful outreach program to union members. President Reagan was endorsed by a several national unions, and he was proud of the votes he received.

The Teamsters Union was rumored to have mob ties. This went all the way back to 1974, when we learned Hyman Roth put together this big deal -- it would be bigger than U.S. Steel. It involved Cuba, the Corleone Family, the Lakeville Road Boys, the Teamsters, Senator Pat Geary (RIP, G.D. Spradlin), and Boo Radley. The deal fell apart, though, and Rocco Lampone shot Mr. Roth to death in an airport terminal in Miami. Mr. Roth had flown home to vote in the Presidential election because they wouldn't give him an absentee ballot.

But I digress.

One day at the campaign office, all the errand guys were out running errands. Vital and indefensible as I was to President Reagan's re-election, and to ending the Cold War, Ed and Lyn Nofziger made ME deliver a package to someone at Teamster Headquarters. I was fitted with a bullet proof vest, a gangster fedora and a book of familiar Italian phrases.

Everyone kidded me that Ed and Lyn had set it all up so I'd be rubbed out.

In the end, I didn't see nuthin'. I didn't even get to take the solid gold elevator to the solid gold upper floors, where all the mafia guys and Howard Hughes were hanging out in wife beater shirts, making spaghetti, and not forgetting the cannoli. I was only allowed to drop it off at the front desk. All I know is the package contained $100 million in cash.

But I digress.

Twenty seven years ago, the Teamsters Union was strong, proud, and effective. If the union had Mafia ties, who cared. The Brotherhood of Teamsters was always more interesting than the other unions anyway, and they got more done for the members. How? The Mob. By the way, the F.B.I. and Rudolph Guiliani ruined the Mafia. How? They used listening devices, and that's cheating.

I'm a lifelong fan and member of both the Mafia and the Teamsters Union. It was sad on Labor Day to see James Hoffa resort to a screeching, Hitler-like rant about the Tea Party Movement. Goodwin's Law . I don't like to hear bad words because it makes me cry. Hoffa said bad words about people who should be entitled to express opinions, support candidates, and vote as they please. I suspect there are thousands of Teamsters who support the Tea Party Movement, which basically urges the federal government to stop doing stupid things. Yet Hoffa urged union members to take them out. Plus, he sounded drunk. No offense to myself and a bunch of people.

Somewhere, in Michigan perhaps, legendary union leader Jimmy Hoffa is turning in his grave, which is rumored to be a concrete block. Why? Because his son, James Hoffa, dyed his hair a dreadful ginger/orange hue, and because he was sucking up to a flukish goof like President Obama.

That pusillanimous, simpering, popinjay, Barack Obama, who can barely finish a sentence without his teleprompter. This is the same god-king who thought there were 57 states. He believed there was an Austrian language, which he learned to speak in just 5 minutes. Most embarrassingly, he mispronounced "corpsman" (hint: it's not corpseman) about 10 times in one of his canned speeches (that usually cause the stock market to fall about 200 points). No offense to the President, either. He got Bin Laden. Allegedly.

Sometimes I feel about as smart as Fredo Corleone, but I knew there were 50 states, that Austrians speak German, and that corpsman is pronounced coreman.

Plus, Obama's ears are getting bigger. He looks like Darren Stevens did when Endora cast a big ear spell on him.

So there you have it. I delivered all that cash to the Teamsters, who gave it to "Big" Paul Castellano of the Gambino Family, who gave it to a Ukrainian "button man," who took out Soviet strongman Konstantin Chernenko, who was replaced by Mikhail Gorbachev, who canceled the Soviet Union. Don't ask for details.

That is the true story of how Ed Rollins, Lyn Nofziger, and Randall P. Hodge helped end the Cold War. President Reagan, Pope John Paul II, and Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher also helped.

©2011 by Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood-DRK Enterprises – Prestige Worldwide

The Walmart Archipelago

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Apologies to Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, author of The Gulag Archipelago.

At the intersection of Northwest Expressway and Classen Boulevard in Oklahoma City stands the largest structure ever built by man (without the aid of aliens). It is roughly the size of Colorado. It is also the destroyer of worlds, small towns, and fine people. Before it was built, one could head north on Classen, make a left at the expressway, and there was Penn Square Mall. Places to eat, shops to buy things I didn’t need, and a movie theater, of which I was a patron.

During construction, major changes to streets were made, and without any regard whatsoever to common sense. All roads and streets were merged and became ONE. It led to only ONE place. Unneeded traffic lights were installed. Nonsensical arrows and symbols were painted on the streets. It was now impossible to navigate this Rube Goldberg maze without passing the great structure, the end of all things, the new Belle Isle Super Walmart. "The focus of evil in the modern world."

It is the business plan of all Walmarts to colonize an area, annihilate and exterminate any and all competitors, and then feed off the host properties and residents. All living things are eventually destroyed, and all the energy and wealth are drained and consumed. Then, the entity abandons the huge warehouse it had leased “for a thousand years” from some hapless developer. Like any demon-possessed predatory organism, the Walmart will move on to another host area and suck the life out of it too.

Here is a photo, never before released until this blog, of a Walmart Death Ray. I once saw a Target truck disabled on the interstate right above Belle Isle. From the roof of Walmart emerged a contraption that looked like something out of a Flash Gordon serial. The Target truck was vaporized -- just like in War of the Worlds (the good one, not the one that Tom Cruise and Dakota Screaming Fanning ruined).

There is one peculiar aspect of any Walmart. Once it has established itself, it cannot be undone. A Walmart is forever. Once open, it loses all regard for customer comfort, convenience and satisfaction. It knows it has us by that point, and the motto becomes Shop Here or Die. At one time I was a regular shopper. The store sold everything that has ever been invented or made in another country. Nothing, absolutely nothing sold in a Walmart is manufactured in the United States. When I shopped there, it took approximately three days to get through the store, but fortunately there were inns and pubs along the way.

In my travels, I noticed things, especially if I shopped late at night. That was my vain effort to avoid the Walmart People, the worst part of any Walmart experience. They are always there. Always. Like the low prices.

It is also at night that Walmart releases an army of stockers into the aisles. Boxes, cans and pallets fly with a furious crazed frenzy. Can you say tweeker? I know not, but the energy comes from some place; it ain’t natural. Of course most of the customers in any Walmart on any given day are also on some sort of mood enhancer or personality amplifier. No offense to myself.

The Belle Isle Super Walmart has about 50 check-out counters, and 47 of those are phony. Always. Tap on one of the “registers” some time. Cardboard from China, painted to LOOK like a cash register by skilled 3-year old artisans in Indonesia. Of the three registers that are real, one is always idle. Always. This accounts for perhaps the second most tortuous part of the Walmart experience: the eternal and infinite lines of fat huddled masses -- customers waiting to check out, yearning to breathe free, and who aren’t going to get out alive. Least not for an hour or two.

This reminds me. Ever notice near the “service” desk of a Super Walmart, there is row of shopping carts chock full of items (some formally frozen and likely to be returned to the freezers)? These baskets were abandoned by the shoppers who filled them. Customers who took one look at the checkout lines and decided they didn’t need all that stuff after all, so they left. We should LOL@Walmart for that “shrinkage,” which is their term for profit loss.

In truth, there is no profit loss at a Walmart. Anything left over from anything that can’t be sold is mixed and ground up with Walmart’s proprietary Füd Prodduck®. The end result is Old Roy dog food. Did you know that hair from the floor of Walmart “salons” is swept up, baled, and made into wigs worn by country singer dolls that are sold at Branson? This is recycling, and it gives Walmart “green cred” with the hippies in Marin County.

The restrooms are also located near the “service” desk. Here’s another interesting fact. When people in really awful smelly Third World countries like Somalia encounter a really awful smelly restroom over there, they exclaim, “this toilet smell like restroom in Walmart! (may allah be merciful).” Yes. Always. The restrooms are not cleaned. Ever. The sign on the door, with names of attendants and times they cleaned? Fake. There are no restroom attendants or janitors in any Walmart. This is why every item or surface in every Walmart is sticky.

What’s more, the “sink” is really more of a trough, and it is physically impossible to wash one’s hands without touching the bottom of the sink. The sink also doubles as a urinal, but taking turns is encouraged by the Smiley Face on the wall. This gives Walmart “green cred” with the hippies in Portland, but it's nasty.

Not making this part up.

My last visit to any Walmart was on September 1, 2011. I needed an HDMI cable for the new blu-ray player I had to have, since I don’t actually own any blu-ray DVDs. Walmart had them, but they were bolted in with some kind of ghetto device that shoplifters probably know how to outwit. For several days I searched for a clerk, or a reasonable facsimile of a clerk, who might have some sort of key to unlock the HDMI cable. Finally, I spied two women at the electronics department counter, mere steps away from the cable. One was even the manager of the department.

Even though I was already frustrated, I waited for them to finish talking about someone I didn’t care about, but who also worked there. I asked them to unlock the cable so I could buy it. No, they couldn't help me. It seems they were “pulling registers”. Neither could spare ten seconds to assist me. One actually “hollered” for another clerk, a “Miss ----leen,” to come and help. Miss ----leen also must have been pulling registers. She never responded to the yells or the alternate method of summoning assistance in Walmart, the dog whistle. So I said I’d have to get one at Target. They shrugged. I was thinking post office? Department of Motor Vehicles? Worse.

The odd thing was they didn’t care. One must actually go inside one of these behemoth Super Walmarts to experience that level of unpleasant apathy. When I got home, I did what Brian Griffin of “Family Guy” recommends: I got on the internet and complained. Then I took what was practically a Masonic Oath never to enter a Walmart again.

We all know everything is cheap there. We all know why. To borrow part of a phrase, “all the books in the world could not contain" the entirety of Walmart’s malice, cruelty, indifference, and fatness.

For more than a generation, I’ve watched this company, which is Worse than Hitler. No offense to Hitler. To comply with Godwin's Law, we always need the requisite reference to Hitler or the Nazis. Always. Walmart invaded Poland. It has destroyed the small towns of America. Formally bustling downtown shops are vacant and useless, decorated only by the unintelligible spray painted ciphers of the gangster community.

Only a fraction of Walmartian evil is public knowledge. I suspect, though, that trading with Walmart is akin to doing business with I. G. Farben, the German industrial giant that profited from the slave labor at Auschwitz and other resorts during World War II. Whatever Walmart does to get all that crap into this country, and then sell it so cheaply – well, it can’t be nice.

I’m convinced America is fat because of Walmart. Millions have no work because of Walmart. I’m also convinced I will never again lighten or darken the doors of one of those smelly, ticky-tacky death camps. “Mr. Sam” Walton, a man I liked and admired, is turning over in his mausoleum. Even his beloved dog, Old Roy, is turning over in his dogoleum.

©2011 by Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood-DRK Enterprises – Prestige Worldwide

Oddjob

Chinese President Hu Jintao arrived at the White House on Wednesday, welcomed by choreographed crowds bussed in from Chicago, who enthusiastically waved the flags of the United States, China and Walmart.

Hu sported a nicely tailored steel rimmed bowler hat. In order to amplify his point that the United States now owes the People's Republic of Red Communist China a trillion bucks, Hu flung the bowler hat directly at Obama, and whopped him upside the head. Then, according to reports at the TMZ website, Hu beat Obama with his shoe, like a red headed step child at rival K-Mart.

Later, with obvious bruises and whelps on his face, Obama claimed he "fell."

Hu Jintao

Obama and his minions have unleashed what amounts to diplomatic fellatio for the visiting Chinesemens. It won't help. They want they monies, and they won't take no check, neither.

I'm reminded of the "Family Guy" episode in which Brian borrowed money from Stewie. In order to make Brian repay the debt, Stewie beat him with (among other things) a towel bar, and then set him on fire with a blow torch. China won't be as patient as Stewie.
Obama will be remembered for what is likely the dumbest and most inappropriate gifts ever given to dignitaries. He presented non-working DVDs to the Prime Minister of Great Britain, an ipod or some Apple gadget, to the Queen of England, and Japanese porn (with that annoying masking) to the Pope.

What did the President give to America's Banker, President Hu Jintao? Incredibly, Obama presented him with a gift card good at participating Pei Wei Chinese takeaway, and a deluxe set of Chinese Checkers (Made in China). That's just racist.

At least the President stuck to a Chinese theme. To the state dinner tonight, the Obamas invited Bonanza's "Hop Sing," actor Jackie Chan, and figure skater Michelle Kwan.

Hop Sing

I'm lying about some of that.

Walmart will be remembered for getting us in this debt mess with China, for having destroyed small town America, for forcing on us those awful bi-lingual signs, creating fat people (no offense to myself), and for selling televisions that cost about $9.00.

China will be remembered because it invented Chinese food, paper, silk, a language that most of us can't learn, and for having the ability to lose 400 million people in a war.

Obama should pay the debt to Red Communist China and stop sucking up. They are mean, and they aren't our friends.

We should stop shopping at Walmart -- at least until they open up more of the 56 (probably fake) check-out stands.

Ever notice those buggies loaded with stuff in the aisle by the service desk? Those were abandoned by people who'd shopped for hours and planned to purchase all that crap. Then, seeing the eternal lines at the two open registers, they realized they didn't need all that stuff after all.

It's all Truman's fault if you think about it.

©Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood Enterprises, Ltd.

Coexist and Let Live

My ghurl Genna posted something on the facebooks the other day. In the wake of the Tucson shootings, it was a plea for us to be more tolerant of those with whom we disagree. I've never been a "Coexist" kind of guy, and tolerance is a tough one because I hate almost everything. I need to work on tolerance, and about everything else.

The Jews and Christians are good, since we invented the Bible and Western Civilization, and I suppose we need males and females. The peace sign is for hippies. They left off the swastika because of racism against the Nazis. The other stuff is weird.

Not really.

Lately, it's as if all the atheists in America have been in my face. Whether it's blasphemous cartoons depicting the Baby Jesus, snarky little facebook posts that demean God or my boy C. S. Lewis, or haters who practically threw used condoms at me because I celebrated the news of the Beatification of Pope John Paul the Great on May 1st. How can someone hate John Paul II? I dunno, but they do, trust me. It's always about condoms with some people.

Most of the atheists I've encountered are angry. They are angry at God, but they don't even believe He exists. They are angry at people who believe in God, but they don't believe in Him. Many of them delight in belittling people and matters of faith. I don't get it.

Check the comments after any article on religion in any major newspaper online. A lot of comments are nasty, mean and disrespectful, and they are from atheists. Why bother to comment on a subject that should be irrelevant to someone who doesn't believe in God? Why'd you read the article in the first place?

Growing up in a small town, I don't recall ever meeting an agnostic -- much less a real atheist. Everyone went to church or was of some faith, or at least pretended. There weren't a lot of restrictions on practicing faith, whether at school or at a football game. Atheists have ruined that. Atheists and lawyers. No offense to myself.

When my very spiritual grandma died in September, I thought of her life and great faith. She prayed me through every challenge, crisis and mess I was ever in. Yes.

How amused she would have been at the notion of someone not believing in God. She'd have been polite, but I can't see her spending a lot of time talking about faith with someone who didn't believe in God. Lightning might strike. Plus, she'd think an atheist was just plain goofy. She didn't hate though.

My Aunt Lois. One of my favorites. In the 70's my cousin was home from serving in the Peace Corps in Iran (those were the happy golden days of the Shah). We were all enthralled with Linda's tales about the culture and people of what would eventually become the despotic Islamic Republic of Iran.

Sidebar: I loved the Shah. Granted, he and SAVAK got carried away sometimes. It happens.

Aunt Lois asked one question, "do they have any Churches of Christ over there?" I loved that. In those days perhaps the Church of Christ was allowed in Iran. It wouldn't be permitted now, though. In the Islamic Republic of Iran they behead and stone people -- not necessarily in that order. They also don't allow competition from other faiths. The culture and food were all fine and good, but my sweet aunt wondered if people in Iran had access to a family of believers who could share the wondrous faith she enjoyed.

I am lucky I was and continue to be influenced by many people with great faith -- FROM many faiths, from Pentecostal to Mormon to Catholic. Real. Strong. Simple. Assured. Earned.

No miracles needed. Just a little experience. A little reliance on God to see if He is there. A few childlike prayers. A great many adultlike prayers. Discovering that God is there. Faith is a gift. We're lucky when we have it. Once we have some measure of faith in God, it is always there, no matter how "prone (we are) to wander or leave the fold of God." See hymn below.

I need God most in time of trouble. When I am afraid, and when I feel helpless. When I don't know what to do, or where to turn. I don't know how this life DVD ends, so it is my nature to fear. It doesn't matter that situations have always worked out for the best -- exactly the way they were supposed to. It doesn't matter that the elves always seem to show up in time.

There is a fat little data tech nerd living in my head. Every night, he deletes the part of my brain that would help me remember that God is big, He loves me, and He has always helped me.

It seems to be God's nature to fix and help -- even when I don't deserve it. Even when I forget to ask Him. Even though He has fixed and helped me about 20 million times. I keep forgetting.

When Lyn got sick I told him that I was mad at God. What a cliche'. I got mad at God because I didn't like the way He was running the universe, or because someone got sick. Lyn advised, "God doesn't need your approval, and He probably doesn't care if you are mad at him."

Lyn reminded me of a verse in the Book of Job, which we both loved: "Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?" He told the oceans when to stop, too. I wasn't around when the morning stars sang together, either. I missed all of that.

It worked out the way it was supposed to, but not the way we wanted. It was during that difficult time (harder for him, as he was the sick one) I discovered my favorite quote from C. S. Lewis:

"I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless; I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God; it changes me."

It changes me.

Dr. Charles Stanley once said he prayed because it helped him get into the Will of God. Might as well, because the Will of God is what's up. God wins.

God loves us, I am convinced, but He doesn't need us. He'll USE us if we want to serve Him. He gave us gifts, and He'll throw us in amongst a pile of people we are uniquely qualified and experienced to help. If we want. If we are willing. If we aren't interested, He'll find someone else. Still, He loves us enough to chase after us quite awhile.

He doesn't need us, or our approval, but I think He likes it when we hang out with Him, and when we help His other children. Things happen, good and bad. God intervenes or not, at times, and we're not given to know why. People are mean. God isn't mean.

It's as if He created us and turned us loose. He made us different so He could see how we'd treat each other. How we'd "coexist." He steps in now and again, but mostly we have free will to shlep about and step in things. It turns out we don't treat each other very well at all.

In the end it all gets fixed and people don't cry any more. That's enough for me, for now. Not that I won't be worried about something tomorrow.

I stopped texting long enough the other day to listen. A man said, "I can't prove to you that God exists, but God has proved His existence to me."

Word.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUhU0HgTq94

Very nice hymn, that one.

©2011 Randall P. Hodge, Esq., Morningwood Enterprises, Ltd. Thanks, MBS. Pour vous.

The Pompous, Pusillanimous Popinjay & The Kraken

Our god-king speaks to us tonight about the catastrophic boo-boo in the Gulf of Mexico.

As suggested by “Avatar” director, James Cameron, the President’s plan for plugging the oil well is to summon the Kraken. The Kraken is a mythological creature which, according to Cameron, is real, and he is as “big as Dallas.” An added plus is he has extra arms and whatnot. For the bargain basement price of $12.5 trillion, Cameron has persuaded the Kraken to dive down to the alleged site and plug the well. The two became tight during the filming of Cameron's hideous film, "The Abyss."

The creature, whose Christian name is "Virgil," will use a custom-made Kraken condom, which the creature doesn’t need anyway, since there aren’t any girl Krakens with which to party. Sources say it is a very large condom, as the Kraken’s wiener is, as you might expect, also big. The President insists his is larger, but who can say. He'd be the first to enhance and amplify, if you know what'm sayin'.

Government experts, including that Nobel Prize winning guy the White House brags about all the time (but who doesn't seem to know anything), recommended we retain the much meaner Kraken that starred in the 2010 version of "Clash of the Titans. Alas, that Kraken wanted $100 trillion, which would increase the national debt more than even Obama can stomach. So we are getting the Ray Harryhausen version from 1981.

Can the monster do it? Do monsters renege? What if he gives us the niggardly effort we've come to expect from most monsters from the early 80's? Will he even remember his instructions? Can he swim all the way down to the alleged spill, seal off the pipe with the giant condom, and will the condom hold back the oil until the equally mythical "relief wells" are drilled, some time in 2025?

One question Helen Thomas should ask is why would the creature want 12.5 trillion bucks? Granted, that's a lot of money but what's he going to do with it? Thank goodness James Cameron promised to give the check to the Kraken. We don't know his address, and he won't return text messages from The Barack. Cameron does know how to reach him, but he "promised" not to tell anyone. This is good.

He made "Titanic." He is reliable. Just ask his ex-wifey who beat him for the Oscar® for Best Director this year. Albeit Cameron's lame "I am the King of the World" speech when he won for "Titanic," still makes me cringe, and so does the movie, but I digress.

An interesting twist. The boring guy who starred in "Avatar," Sam Worthington, also starred in "Clash of the Titans, 2010." They replaced Harry Hamlin because he isn't pretty any more. Probably fat too.

Watch this: James Cameron >> "The Abyss" >> "Avatar" >> Sam Worthington >> "Clash of the Titans 2010" >> "Virgil," the Kraken from "Clash of the Titans," 1981 >> James Cameron. Coincidence? Conspiracy? Too many connections? Maybe. Sounds very George Noory "grassy knoll" if you ask me.

Who manufactured the giant condom? Sources say it was the great Halliburton. The much maligned corporation has come to our aid, yet again. No one appreciates them but our Dick, Dick Cheney.

The White House insists the "Kraken Plan 9 from Outer Space" cannot fail. After all, the President is himself a Nobel Laureate, and he would be the first to tell you he is excessively and vulgarly brilliant. In the unlikely event something goes wrong (these things can break under certain conditions, for example), there is a super secret Alternate Plan. President Obama will restore the abandoned, but often juicy practice of conducting human sacrifices to the Roman God of the Sea, Neptune, whom the President has secretly worshiped for years. Neptune don't take no jive bribes, son.

Aquaman is in rehab again, so he can't help.

This will be his first speech from the Oval Office. It will be long and he will read very well. from the Chinese Teleprompter. No need to watch; I've already given you the highlights. However, he is also expected to nationalize British Petroleum, declare martial law, and send writers of satire off to the Alaskan Death Camps. So goodbye forever.

One suggestion, far more helpful than blaming the dumb President Bush (and he will). The President should muster ships and crew, men, women, tanks, "Brownie" of Katrina fame, nukes, planes, guns, knives, a bunch of thugs from "Blazing Saddles, innocent Joran van der Sloot, some registered nurses, and about a trillion doses of meth, for that added boost of energy.

Try and stop the oil from reaching shore. Every little effort helps. Clean up the mess that reaches the formally pristine coastline. Basically, this is the help Governor Bobby Jindal pleaded for from the beginning. He didn't get it. Barack was having date night, on another vacation, blaming the Dumb Bush, or playing his 10,000th round of golf since America's "Baby Doc" became President for Life.

Blame, fine, demagogue, politicize, determine "whose ass to kick" and urge passage of that communist "cap and trade" bill later. Right now, to borrow a phrase from my girl, Laura Ingraham, "just shut up and clean."

I'd help, but I threw out my back.

©2010 Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood Enterprises, Ltd.

Maelstrom, Cataclysm, Götterdämmerung and Whatnot

Mmmbop!

Because losing is such a rare experience for the University of Oklahoma football team, any loss is difficult for fans. Last night's loss was a little easier for me, though, as we lost to Brigham Young University, my second favorite team. I like BYU because only attractive, moral and well dressed students are admitted, and that is how it should be. A BYU player is named "Manase." Someone must have run out of names when he was born.

I have scores of friends and loved ones who are big fans of BYU. Every single one of them was gracious to me last night. Not one made a snide comment, or reveled in the misfortune and injury of OU's Heisman winning quarterback, Fantastic Sam Bradford, whose acne has disappeared. Not one.

Contrast that with Texas fans, many of whom would celebrate if Sam sustained a spinal injury and ended up paralyzed from the wiener down. I received from UT fans a host of text messages, emails, Facebook messages and Facebook posts that were tacky, classless and, for the most part, neither funny nor clever. I'll receive more because of this post. My favorite was from my boy Leslie, who said, "the first game played in the new Cowboy Stadium, and OU lost." Cold blooded.

Many Sooner fans have regional loyalties. I do. Several years ago I was proud as could be of Texas when they won the national championship. Why can't we all just get along?

Because Texas is racist and hurtful, and people shoot folks from towers and whatnot.

God Bless Glenn Beck for hammering home the message about the utter awfulness of Green Czar, Van Jones. President Obama appointed him to indoctrinate us with communist theory, and force us to go green. You know the old saying, "once you go green, you never go back."

With Obama, it is all about color. Jones resigned under pressure because it became known he is a nutter and a hater.

During last year's campaign I ranted and raved about Obama, and the danger that he'd appoint a host of radicals and white people to positions of great power and influence. He has done that and more. We have a wise non-dieting Latina woman as our new Supreme Court Justice. She will take affirmative action to a whole new level of idiocy.

White slavery, retroactive abortions and the Alaskan Death Camps for dissenters are coming.

Van Jones. Green Czar. That guy should have been Red Czar, as he is a commie. I love the youtube clips of him referring to Obama's opponents as "a**holes." I don't think Jesus would want him to say things like that about Republicans. Nice. Very ghetto. Spray paint that some place, won't you? Bust some caps while you're at it, beeyotch.

Jones helped found a San Francisco (naturally) group called "STORM." That bunch didn't stress the need to help victims of storms, either. STORM means Standing Together to Organize a Revolutionary Movement." That doesn't sound like Boy Scouts, Mormons, or the Lions' Club putting on a bake sale to buy new band uniforms.

STORM. Storm. The Storm. Der Sturmer. That was the name of the Nazi Party newspaper in Germany, from 1923-1945. Coincidence? Conspiracy? Resurrection of the Third Reich by our first muslim president? I report. You decide.

Oh, and Jones CHAMPIONS the cause of that dreadful, smelly dreadlock havin' cop killer, Mumia Abu-Jamal, who sits on death row in Pennsylvania. May allah have mercy on him. May allah have mercy on his mother for giving him such a goofy name. No offense. Read up on that case when you're in the mood to get really angry.

How bright is our wonder boy president if he appoints radicals like this? Yet his administration is full of them.

Oh well, that's what the Republicans get for nominating that moron McCain.

Glenn Beck and other swell guys took down this rapper Van Jones. Good for them.

Obama's evil minions have many terrible plans and goals. Two are particularly terrifying. They want to restore the so-called "fairness doctrine," which would force media outlets to broadcast opposing viewpoints. People won't listen to hippie liberal communist radio programs because they suck. For real. It has been tried and the efforts have all failed. People don't like things that suck. The solution, naturally is for the government to step in and make us listen to liberal drivel. That'll suck too, but THE GREAT BARACK knows best and sees all.

(even if his wife looks abominable in her "daisy duke" cut-offs, and girlfriend, please do wear a bra).

We will have to endure opposing viewpoints after Rush Limbaugh and others have finished, or they will be shut down. Stations will be taxed and fined by the FCC. Christians will be beheaded in public squares.

The other scary "danger" is the proposal that the President of the United States be granted the power to shut down the internet in an emergency. Yes. I'm not lying, even if this does sound like something I'd make up. That's how the Nazis really achieved power in Germany in the 1930's. Hitler didn't start off as an absolute dictator. He was smart enough to avail himself of and exploit any emergency for his own purposes. This is why THE GREAT BARACK is often compared to Hitler.

Plus, I know Obama is back to smoking, and I hope someone catches him. Michelle will clobber him with a frying pan.

Cigarettes, not crack. Don't be racist.

I play the "Farmville" application on Facebook. It is lame and goofy, and it is an amazing time-waster. One can plant just about any crop he wants. Crops grow, they are harvested, and the player gets "coins," which aren't worth anything. The other day, I seeded my entire plantation with cotton. I thought it'd be kind of cool to see the cotton "grow." My best friend Jordan saw the farm page. He called me a racist and asked me if I could buy slaves to pick the cotton.

So I checked. Players can purchase everything from raspberries to radishes. Signs to silos. Picket fences to paving stones. Tents to Tara. All kinds of farmy stuff.

But no, one can't purchase slaves unless there are also watermelons growing. Now THAT would be funny.

At least ten people will fire me as a Facebook friend for that comment. I generally lose one each time I post a column from my girl Ann Coulter or my boy Pat Buchanan. But I digress. Back to Farmville.

Another friend arranged her plots so they spelled out OSU in pumpkins. It is incredible.

I'm going to do a big swastika with my crops.

There went another ten friends from Facebook.

Get well, Fantastic Sam. Thanks BYU fans and friends for making our loss a little more endurable. Have the best season ever. I also hope OSU has a great season, but I hope even more that OU beats OSU like a red headed stepchild in K-Mart.

Don't hate.

Happy Burfday to G.R.E. Thanks for letting me sniff and hang in yo pound, dawg.

(c) 2009 Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood Enterprises, Ltd.