04-08-2010, 10:41 PM
My Spanish teacher in 1961 Sra. Portilla recent graduate of Havana and emigre de Cuba told me, “Ah, Felipe, Fidel es muy malo, muy malo, es veddy, veddy bad man.”
Is it not key that Douglass uses Kennedy's own comment vis-a-vis likelihood of reality imitating art in a Seven Days In May coup—that hypothetical wherein the POTUS would commit a Bay of Pigs mistake, not once but three times.
Had Nixon been elected in 1960, perhaps he would have allowed the final B-26 raid on the three T-33s, and committed American military forces to the success of the mission.
Perhaps Nixon would have pursued the Vietnam War without hesitation.
It is, I believe, an established tenet of intelligent thought on the assassination that a prime factor in its motivation was to alter foreign policy.
At this point I must side with Charle's assertion that the maintenance of Cuba as a model of something (you may insert your own descriptor) rather than an aggressive action to change its regime has been the policy post BOP of the government of the United States.
But that is by way of addressing an item which just erupted in this discussion.
I would return to my understanding-in-formation of the broader implications of the public murder of the 35th president.
We have been instructed to accept that a single man without motive was in a position he did not occupy to operate a weapon he never owned to execute marksmanship beyond his ability to effect ballistics which defy physics.
I prefer to look upon that man as a serial agent of various intelligent agencies first as a radar operator and dangle, then a penetration agent, then an agent provocateur, an informer, a pawn, a patsy.
In Zen is the directive to not mistake the finger pointing at the moon for the moon.
Just because LBJ got to the White House and mooned us, does not mean he arranged the operation.
And it is titilating that Prouty and Krulak identify Lansdale in Dallas. And it is fascinating that Braden/Brading was arrested coming from the Dal-Tex Building.
But we are still on the midway and everyone is selling Assassin-On-A-Stick.
Carnies and shills and geeks, oh my.
Our friend in Army intelligence in Korea after the war establishing the Chinese order of battle commenting on how “dangerous” was this Kennedy.
And our friend who was in the Boston financial house summer of 1963 when LBJ backer and economic advisor Eliot Janeway came through to hiss a rehearsed warning “what a dangerous man this Kennedy is.”
All around were those operating as if Kennedy was a dead man walking.
Lodge behaving as a maverick before it was a term of pop art.
Ike warning of a military-industrial complex; then, after the fact, Truman lamenting the toothpaste was out of the tube.
Dulles mocking “that little Kennedy—he thought he was a god.”
Emory Roberts remarking Kennedy was “a traitor.”
Some cite Marcello's mouth.
Surely someone has salted the record with tantalizing bread crumbs.
I can accept the coincidence as an occasional occurrence.
But some of these coincidences are sheer delight.
George DeMohrenschildt sucks a rook rifle after a chat with Epstein and before one with Fonzi; and he chooses the day Charles Nicoletti shuffled off the mortal coil.
But the wreckage of terra cotta warriors must return us to the question whose arm swept the board, and who remains smiling in the chairs.
I echo Holmes to Watson, “I abhor stagnation; I crave mental exhultation.”
Never quite the last word, is it. They forecast we would tire before we finished: viz. Salandria et Dulles, “Let's watch Dancing With The Stars!”
Is it not key that Douglass uses Kennedy's own comment vis-a-vis likelihood of reality imitating art in a Seven Days In May coup—that hypothetical wherein the POTUS would commit a Bay of Pigs mistake, not once but three times.
Had Nixon been elected in 1960, perhaps he would have allowed the final B-26 raid on the three T-33s, and committed American military forces to the success of the mission.
Perhaps Nixon would have pursued the Vietnam War without hesitation.
It is, I believe, an established tenet of intelligent thought on the assassination that a prime factor in its motivation was to alter foreign policy.
At this point I must side with Charle's assertion that the maintenance of Cuba as a model of something (you may insert your own descriptor) rather than an aggressive action to change its regime has been the policy post BOP of the government of the United States.
But that is by way of addressing an item which just erupted in this discussion.
I would return to my understanding-in-formation of the broader implications of the public murder of the 35th president.
We have been instructed to accept that a single man without motive was in a position he did not occupy to operate a weapon he never owned to execute marksmanship beyond his ability to effect ballistics which defy physics.
I prefer to look upon that man as a serial agent of various intelligent agencies first as a radar operator and dangle, then a penetration agent, then an agent provocateur, an informer, a pawn, a patsy.
In Zen is the directive to not mistake the finger pointing at the moon for the moon.
Just because LBJ got to the White House and mooned us, does not mean he arranged the operation.
And it is titilating that Prouty and Krulak identify Lansdale in Dallas. And it is fascinating that Braden/Brading was arrested coming from the Dal-Tex Building.
But we are still on the midway and everyone is selling Assassin-On-A-Stick.
Carnies and shills and geeks, oh my.
Our friend in Army intelligence in Korea after the war establishing the Chinese order of battle commenting on how “dangerous” was this Kennedy.
And our friend who was in the Boston financial house summer of 1963 when LBJ backer and economic advisor Eliot Janeway came through to hiss a rehearsed warning “what a dangerous man this Kennedy is.”
All around were those operating as if Kennedy was a dead man walking.
Lodge behaving as a maverick before it was a term of pop art.
Ike warning of a military-industrial complex; then, after the fact, Truman lamenting the toothpaste was out of the tube.
Dulles mocking “that little Kennedy—he thought he was a god.”
Emory Roberts remarking Kennedy was “a traitor.”
Some cite Marcello's mouth.
Surely someone has salted the record with tantalizing bread crumbs.
I can accept the coincidence as an occasional occurrence.
But some of these coincidences are sheer delight.
George DeMohrenschildt sucks a rook rifle after a chat with Epstein and before one with Fonzi; and he chooses the day Charles Nicoletti shuffled off the mortal coil.
But the wreckage of terra cotta warriors must return us to the question whose arm swept the board, and who remains smiling in the chairs.
I echo Holmes to Watson, “I abhor stagnation; I crave mental exhultation.”
Never quite the last word, is it. They forecast we would tire before we finished: viz. Salandria et Dulles, “Let's watch Dancing With The Stars!”