The media is beginning to have enough of this dog and pony show. Geez, what took ‘em so long! It’s about time they woke up because the rest of us out here are smothering from this nonsense. Here is the next in a series of critical pieces on the big zero called Obama. The first was CBS, which ran the McChrystal piece about Afghanistan being basically up in the air.

By Howard Fineman
Newsweek
September 26, 2009

If ubiquity were the measure of a presidency, Barack Obama would already be grinning at us from Mount Rushmore. But of course it is not. Despite his many words and television appearances, our elegant and eloquent president remains more an emblem of change than an agent of it. He’s a man with an endless, worthy to-do list—health care, climate change, bank reform, global capital regulation, AfPak, the Middle East, you name it—but, as yet, no boxes checked “done.” This is a problem that style will not fix. Unless Obama learns to rely less on charm, rhetoric, and good intentions and more on picking his spots and winning in political combat, he’s not going to be reelected, let alone enshrined in South Dakota.

The president’s problem isn’t that he is too visible; it’s the lack of content in what he says when he keeps showing up on the tube. Obama can seem a mite too impressed with his own aura, as if his presence on the stage is the Answer. There is, at times, a self-referential (even self-reverential) tone in his big speeches. They are heavily salted with the words “I” and “my.” (He used the former 11 times in the first few paragraphs of his address to the U.N. last week.) Obama is a historic figure, but that is the beginning, not the end, of the story.

There is only so much political mileage that can still be had by his reminding the world that he is not George W. Bush. It was the winning theme of the 2008 campaign, but that race ended nearly a year ago. The ex-president is now more ex than ever, yet the current president, who vowed to look forward, is still reaching back to Bush as bogeyman.

He did it again in that U.N. speech. The delegates wanted to know what the president was going to do about Israel and the Palestinian territories. He answered by telling them what his predecessor had failed to do. This was effective for his first month or two. Now it is starting to sound more like an excuse than an explanation.

Members of Obama’s own party know who Obama is not; they still sometimes wonder who he really is. In Washington, the appearance of uncertainty is taken as weakness—especially on Capitol Hill, where a president is only as revered as he is feared. Being the cool, convivial late-night-guest in chief won’t cut it with Congress, an institution impervious to charm (especially the charm of a president with wavering poll numbers). Members of both parties are taking Obama’s measure with their defiant and sometimes hostile response to his desires on health care. Never much of a legislator (and not long a senator), Obama underestimated the complexity of enacting a major “reform” bill. Letting Congress try to write it on its own was an awful idea. As a balkanized land of microfiefdoms, each loyal to its own lobbyists and consultants, Congress is incapable of being led by its “leadership.” It’s not like Chicago, where you call a guy who calls a guy who calls Daley, who makes the call. The president himself must make his wishes clear—along with the consequences for those who fail to grant them.

The model is a man whose political effectiveness Obama repeatedly says he admires: Ronald Reagan. There was never doubt about what he wanted. The Gipper made his simple, dramatic tax cuts the centerpiece not only of his campaign but also of the entire first year of his presidency.

Obama seems to think he’ll get credit for the breathtaking scope of his ambition. But unless he sees results, it will have the opposite effect—diluting his clout, exhausting his allies, and emboldening his enemies.

That may be starting to happen. Health-care legislation is still weeks, if not months, from passage, and the bill as it stands could well be a windfall for the very insurance and drug companies it was supposed to rein in. Climate-change legislation (a.k.a. cap-and-trade) is almost certainly dead for this year, which means that American negotiators will go empty-handed to the Copenhagen summit in December —pushing the goal of limiting carbon emissions even farther into the distance. In the spring Obama privately told the big banks that he was going to change the way they do business. It was going to be his way or the highway. But the complex legislation he wants to submit to Congress has little chance of passage this year. Doing Letterman again won’t help. It may boost the host’s ratings, Mr. President, but probably not your own.

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Faux feminism at its best…

This week’s Daily Nigger should give women a moment of pause because it’s one thing to have your freedom taken away, yet it’s quite another thing to have ones children taken away as well. But of course, what does Whoopi Goldberg care about people’s kids. Obviously not much.

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The Comedy Channel becomes seriously funny…

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This is another eye-popping example of how women are literally coming to their senses about how ideologies have clouded their good judgment. Feminism is now under scrutiny by a growing cadre of women, who seem to agree as in this case of Erin Pizzey, that the issues of abuse and co-dependency may well be taken for granted and swept under the rug in the name of ‘progress’ and ‘political correctness’. This is another name for censorship and silent suffering. Here is the article that we snapped the link off of narcissists-suck. This opens up a brand new world as far as we are concerned, and it is relevant and timely because women are the ones who typically raise children, not the schools. The notion of propaganda and its methods of indoctrination are now under the microscope as never before, and women are boldly taking a look at the causes of how this takes root.

By Erin Pizzey
mailonline
September 24, 2009

ERIN PIZZEY set up the world’s first refuge for battered women in 1971 – and went on to establish an international movement for victims of domestic violence. But what she has never made public before is that her own childhood was scarred by the shocking cruelty of both her parents. Here, for the first time, she tells the full harrowing story – and how it led her to a surprising, but deeply felt, conclusion …

Though I remember little of my earliest years, I grew up in a world of extraordinary violence. I was born in 1939 in Tsingtao, China, and shortly after my family moved to Shanghai with my diplomat father, we were captured by the invading Japanese army. It was 1942, the war was raging and we were held under house arrest until we were exchanged for Japanese prisoners of war and put on the last boat out of China.

Tortured childhood: Erin Pizzey was abused by both her mother and father

My father was ordered to Beirut by the diplomatic service, and we were left as refugees in Kokstad, South Africa. From living in an enormous house with a fleet of servants and a nanny, my twin sister Rosaleen and I were suddenly at the mercy of my mother Pat’s temper. And it was ferocious. Having escaped the brutality of the war, we were introduced to a new brand domestic cruelty.

Indeed, my mother’s explosive temper and abusive behavior shaped the person I later became like no other event in my life.

Thirty years later, when feminism exploded onto the scene, I was often mistaken for a supporter of the movement. But I have never been a feminist, because, having experienced my mother’s violence, I always knew that women can be as vicious and irresponsible as men.

Emotionally abused: Baby Erin (left) and twin sister Rosaleen with their parents

Indeed, I would go so far as to say that the movement, which proclaimed that all men are potential rapists and batterers, was based on a lie that, if allowed to flourish, would result in the complete destruction of family life.

From the very beginning, I waged war against my mother and quickly learned to disassociate myself from the pain of her beatings.

Her words, however, stayed with me all my life. ‘You are lazy, useless, and ugly,’ she would scream. ‘You look like your father’s side of the family – Irish trash.’

They were vicious words that I have heard repeated over and over by mothers everywhere. Indeed, when I later opened my refuge for battered women, 62 of the first 100 to come through the door were as abusive as the men they had left.

She was, however, right: I did look like my father, Cyril. While my twin sister was slim and had long dark hair, and my mother’s deep blue eyes, I was fat and fair-haired, clumsy, noisy and brash.

I was only five but I knew my mother didn’t like me

I was only five years old, but I knew my mother didn’t like me. And with no servants to restrain her now, she lashed out whenever she felt like it.

When we finally joined my father in a flat in Beirut, I soon realised that he was no saint either. He would constantly scream and rage at all of us.

He was particularly consumed by jealousy. Even though he verbally abused my mother and rarely showed her affection, he seemed compelled to follow her around like a guard dog.

If she spoke on the telephone, he grilled her until she burst into tears. If she went out shopping, he paced the room until she got back and exploded with rage if she were more than a few minutes late.

I hated my father with all my childish heart – and was truly terrified by him. He was 6ft 4in tall, massively built and had a huge paunch that hung over his belt. He stared out of piggy, pale blue eyes and had a big sloppy mouth that slobbered over my lips when he kissed me.

He didn’t believe in baths, which he said were ‘weakening’, and smoked tins of Players Cigarettes, which made him smell like an ashtray. His rages were explosive and unpredictable.

Fresh-faced: Erin Pizzey, founder of the domestic violence charity Refuge, pictured here when she aged just 11

But despite his clumsy, predictable form of macho brutality – born out of his being the 17th child of a violent Irish father – it was my mother’s more emotional, verbal form of abuse that scarred me most deeply.

She indulged in a particular kind of soul murder – and it was her cruelty that, even 60 years on, still reduces me to tears and leaves me convinced that feminism is a cynical, misguided ploy.

Unfortunately, at that time, what I wanted more than anything was for my mother to love me – something I never felt she truly did. And so, when my father was posted to Chicago, and I followed my mother to Toronto, to live with my godparents, I was initially hopeful. I believed that without my father’s presence, she would have the time be a real mother.

But once in the bosom of this normal family, my own dysfunctional behaviour soon became apparent. I had, it seems, already been too badly damaged by my mother’s hatred of me.

I was always in trouble at school, encouraging the other children to behave as badly as I did. On one occasion, I was caught sitting on the doorstep giving away the money I’d stolen from my mother’s bag.

Needless to say, my mother went berserk. She took me upstairs and beat me with an ironing cord until the blood ran down my legs. I showed my injuries to my teacher the next morning – but she just stared back impassively and did nothing.

Many years later, when feminists started demonising all fathers, these stark images continually reminded me of the truth – that domestic violence is not a gender issue.

She beat me until the blood ran down my legs

Shortly after the war, my father was posted to Tehran and we all went to live with him. It was only when I saw him again that I remembered how much I hated him.

He would come home from the office, and as he put the key in the door I would freeze. I would often hear him coughing outside the door – he was still a heavy smoker – and spitting phlegm into the flower bed.

His eyes were windows into his violent moods. If they were narrowed and red, I knew he was in a rage and it would only be a matter of time before he erupted.

But my hatred of my father was pure and uncontaminated by any other emotions. My feelings about my mother, however, were far more complicated.

As much as I was devastated by her hatred of me, I still genuinely strove for her love. In fact, I had moments of great compassion for her when I saw her weeping and wailing in front of my father.

Occasionally, she fought back against his brutality. She was only 4ft 9in, but my mother was extremely strong and her tongue was lethal. She accused him of being an oaf and an idiot. She called his mother a prostitute and his father a common Irish drunk.
Erin Pizzey

Growing old gracefully: Erin Pizzey as she looks these days

Unsurprisingly, my brother and sister were both withdrawn and silent children. My sister suffered from headaches, weeping eczema and mysterious days of paralysis when she was unable to get up from her bed.

To outsiders, my father was a genial, intelligent man and my mother a famous party hostess with three beautiful children and a perfect diplomatic family. In fact, my parents were both violent, cruel people and we were all deeply damaged.

In 1949, my father was posted back to Tien Sien, in China. I was left with my twin sister in a boarding school – Leweston, near Sherborne in Dorset – and my brother accompanied my parents.

Very shortly after they took up their post, however, my parents were captured again – this time by the communists – and held under house arrest for three years.

Without them, I felt an abiding sense of peace and loved my holidays at St Mary’s in Uplyme, a holiday home for children whose parents were abroad. Miss Williams, who ran the place, was the first adult that I really admired and respected. She became my mentor.

But this idyll was shattered when I heard that my parents had been released. I remember being called to the telephone in the convent to speak to my mother. I had completely blotted my parents out of my life and so when I heard her Canadian accent, I just screamed down the phone.

‘You’re not my mother!’ I yelled, all too aware that the whole circus was about to start again.

When my mother first returned, to a house outside Axminster, we enjoyed an uneasy truce. I was much taller than her now, and too big for her to batter.

Instead, she began to list my father’s faults, and the atrocities he had inflicted on us all, as if I were now her confidante. She would tell me how much she hated him and that they never should have married.

‘But I stayed for you,’ she told me. ‘I stayed because I wanted you to go to a private school and enjoy a comfortable way of life.’

I took the decision that I would have to stab my father

Once again, she was unleashing her peculiar brand of emotional cruelty, and placing all the responsibility – and guilt – on me. It was a pattern of behaviour I would witness again and again among some of the women in my refuge.

The day my father was due to join us in the new house, my mother was a nervous wreck. She was crying and clinging on to me, demanding that I protect her. ‘I don’t want him anywhere near me,’ she said.

In dysfunctional families, children, no matter how badly they are treated, will try to take on the parenting role. For me, this still meant protecting and comforting my mother.

And so, on the night of my father’s return, I took a large carving knife from the kitchen and went up to my parents’ bedroom, which I peered into through a gap in the door. They slept in separate, single beds and I took the extraordinary decision that I would stab him if he tried to force himself on her.

I was, on reflection, following my mother’s unspoken orders. Remarkably, she had manipulated me to such a degree that I was now willing to murder for her.

My father certainly tried to talk his way into her bed. Fortunately, however, he didn’t become physical. If he had, he would now be dead and my life would have turned out very differently.

In the 1950s, while I was working in Hong Kong, my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I returned to our house near Axminster – and found my father unchanged.

By now, he was trying to force my mother to sign her money – she had received a sizeable inheritance from her father – over to him. Week after week, in the local cottage hospital, she refused, and week after week, he ranted and raved at her while she writhed in pain. I begged the nurses to stop him, but they said no one could come between a man and his wife.

At first, my mother refused to believe she was dying. But when my father finally broke her down, and bullied her into signing the papers, her life began to ebb away in earnest.

She died on September 16, 1958, and my father had the body brought home and placed in the dining room. That night, as she lay next door, we sat down to have supper at the table in the hall.

He made us stand vigil over her visibly decomposing body

After supper, my father ordered us into the dining room, where my mother’s open coffin was draped with a red cloth. My brother, sister and I begged my father not to remove the cloth, but when we closed our eyes for a moment to say a prayer for her, we opened them to be confronted by her pale face. I vividly remember that there was cotton wool sticking out of her nose.

Every night, we would stand vigil over my mother’s body, and every night she would be exposed to the humiliation of having her children see her visibly decomposing. At last, six days later, my father buried her.

I left home the next day and only saw him once more – when I took his ashes to my mother’s grave in 1982.

I only decided to talk about my traumatic childhood last week – on a BBC radio program called The House Where I Grew Up – but I decided long ago I would not repeat the toxic lessons I learned as a child. Instead, I would become a survivor.

Feminism, I realized, was a lie. Women and men are both capable of extraordinary cruelty. Indeed, the only thing a child really needs – two biological parents under one roof – was being undermined by the very ideology which claimed to speak up for women’s rights.

This country is now on the brink of serious moral collapse. We must stop demonizing men and start healing the rift that feminism has created between men and women.

Harriet Harman’s insidious and manipulative philosophy that women are always victims and men always oppressors can only continue this unspeakable cycle of violence. And it’s our children who will suffer.

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Bravo to this web site, which eclipses anything in the lame stream media and practically any other blog out there to be perfectly honest. I call it one of the blogs of the ladies cat chat forum, which in other words if you see gif files of cats moving around in the sidebar then you know you’re reading good stuff. Straight from the heart, Anna Valeriou takes on the tough mantle of handling being an adult child of a narcissist. Admittedly, this is quite a suspiciously enticing notion out there given all the talk circulating about Nicolas Sarkozy pinning that heretofore ignonimous yet much talked about moniker upon what’s-his-name. We believe this is a relevant issue, since there is not much written about recovery from a narcissistic upbringing we decided to open with this…

From narcissists-suck.blogspot.com

You’ve come to realize a harsh reality, or you’re simply entertaining a harsh possibility: your mother is or might be a malignant narcissist. You’ve started to Google the Internet looking for someone to explain the pathological relationship you have with the woman who calls herself “mother”. For years you’ve been struggling to understand this woman. You’ve wrestled with your conflicting feelings for decades. You’ve been used and abused by her but never allowed to think of her behavior toward you as being abusive. Now a label is tantalizing you with a hope that you will someday understand this complicated mess. All of which is why you are here now.

There is no simple explanation for your mother. There is no formula that will “fix” her either. If you are looking for either of those you are set up for disappointment. I will tell you what you can do. You can come to understand that you are not the one who is crazy or defective. You will discover in your search on the Internet that there are many people who understand what you’ve experienced and can validate your experience and feelings. That alone is priceless and will go a long way toward giving you some relief. Next, if you allow yourself, you will come to understand the “malignant” part of “malignant narcissism” and realize your mother has earned the label due to the ill-will betrayed by her behaviors.

This may be the hardest part of your quest. You have spent a lifetime consistently denying to yourself that your mother wishes you ill. You have held tightly to a few precious memories that you think prove that she really does love you. When you’ve dared to let your mind wander to that awful place…the place where you know deep down you’ve never really had a mother…you veer away sharply and go back to your little collection of memories you think counter this truth. You turn the memories over and over in your mind, working them like a worry stone, reassuring yourself that your interpretation of those events constitute the truth that your mommy loves you.

So my biggest hurdle in reaching you with the full force of reality where the narcissist mother is concerned is your insistence that she doesn’t really mean what she says or does. That she really does love you deep down. I’m not going to tear that cherished belief from you all at once. At this point, I just want you to know that I approach this subject of malignant narcissism from the perspective of a daughter raised by one. So if your search for explanations for your own parasitic, life-sapping, emotional vampire of a mother brought you here then you are in a good place. I understand the spectrum of experience and emotion that being the child of a narcissistic mother represents. I hope you will scope out the entirety of the archives here, as well as the links, to augment your pursuit of knowledge of the “beast”. I am not an expert. I am not a trained psychologist. I am intimately acquainted with the subject matter, though, and therefore have the benefit of experience and reflection to share with you.

I recommend you start here to understand some of the meaning wrapped up in the word “malignant”. Then I hope you’ll go here and thoughtfully read through the author’s brilliant capture of the subtleties of the abusive ways of a narcissistic mother.

As you read, allow yourself to admit the ever-present malevolence that is demonstrated in nearly every interaction with your narcissist mother. This is not a person who wishes you well.

Not until you are able to fully admit to yourself the ever-present ill-will your mother has toward you will you be able to plot a future course which will free you from her tyranny and allow you the room to live life on healthy terms. Because of your connection with this woman you are a conduit through which she reaches into the lives of those around you. You see the caustic effect of her touch on them, but haven’t yet realized your responsibility to protect them from the parasite you call “mother”. You have some work to do. You need be brave enough to look squarely in the eyes of truth and admit what you’ve not been willing to admit before. You need to then act according to this reality. You need to protect yourself and others from her. This may only be accomplished by strictly limiting contact, or it may require you completely cutting off all contact. If you are able to prove to yourself the ever-present malignancy of your mother to your satisfaction, then you will also have to admit to yourself that she is a dangerous person. Dangerous to the minds, bodies and souls of all those in her sphere of contact.

My primary prescription to those who are able to come to these conclusions about a narcissistic mother (or father) is to completely cut-off from them. The reason I end up with this recommendation is because of this hard and fast reality: if someone is a practiced and demonstrably malignant narcissist, they are unreformable. What you see is what you can expect to get forever. That means the only thing you have the power to change is yourself and your circumstances. You can’t change your mother, but you can walk away. You can’t change her consistently malevolent ways, but you can choose to protect yourself and others from them.

You have a responsibility to face reality and do the right thing most particularly if you have children of your own. Her malevolence does not stop with you. Your children will be touched by it. Even the now “grandmotherly” behavior of your mother is not a sign she is safe. She is a predator. Your children are either going to receive direct ill-treatment, or they may simply be used as a pawn to get to you. Beware. Narcissistic grandparents love to steal your children from you. Sometimes physically steal them, but most often steal their hearts. She will slander you to your own children behind your back. She will create anarchy against your parental authority. She is a danger to the government of your home. You’re going to have to be willing to reassess her access to your own children. It feels like a sin to deprive her of her grandchildren. Both she and society consider it such. Think for yourself. Don’t let others presume to tell you someone is “safe” when you have clear evidence to the contrary.

You are going to need a sense of moral and psychological strength in order to oppose the destructive spiritual and emotional force of the malignant narcissist. Whether or not you are a religious person, you need to realize that the malignant narcissist carries with them a malignant spirit. The second meaning of the word spiritual is what I’m describing:

concerned with or affecting the spirit or soul.

This is the realm that the narcissist almost entirely operates in. This also explains one reason it is so hard to nail down the evil these people engage in. They move primarily in the spiritual realm. Which means much of what they do seems nearly intangible. Nailing them down resembles trying to nail Jello to the wall. What they do profoundly affects your spirit. When you’ve tried to explain the effects on your own spirit and the evidence of the spirit of the narcissist, you’ve often been met with outright skepticism and criticism of you and your motives. This is because people often can not relate to a spirit they’ve never encountered personally. It is easy enough for them to disbelieve something as ephemeral and intangible as spirit. Who can blame them for being unwilling to believe in the hatefully evil spirit of your mother? They have no way to relate to this spirit if they haven’t actually met it intimately as you have. Can you think of a more perfect disguise for evil than motherhood? Mother is supposed to be the embodiment of self-sacrifice and good-will toward the weakest among us…the children. So how better to cover the malignancy of your spirit than to cloak yourself in the armament of iron-clad reputation known as “mother”? As tempting as it may be to fault people for not believing your reports against your mother, you need to understand how it looks from their perspective. They had good mothers. They look around and see society’s reverence for good mothers and assume that all mothers are like theirs. On the other hand, you have eaten of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. While you are able to comprehend the truth that most mothers are good, you have experienced the other kind of mother, and so you also know there is such a thing as evil mothers. It is a heavy burden to bear. Be assured, some of us out here understand this lonely and very real place.

What I’m trying to get across here is that you are going to have to wrestle with spiritual issues if you are to come to understand the narcissist. You’ve entered the realm of good vs. evil. You are going to have to shore up your own spiritual self in order to have the strength to oppose the full force of malignant spirit you will find yourself up against especially as you start to oppose its will.

This blog is one place where you can help fortify your soul for the battle.

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Folks, I may not have all the answers but I can tell when God is pissed. God is pissed off when people do not wake up and start behaving as they should. God gets pissed when people put their vanity ahead of responsibility. God gets very pissed when people indulge themselves in the present rather than thinking as they should about future generations, especially the most impressionable one, which is right under their very nose. And let me tell you something, I can hear God’s voice speaking from time to time and God wants you to know that this one very, very pissed off deity.

God is pissed about deficit spending, which is nothing more than postponing the inevitable, which is responsibility. God is pissed about governments trying to force people to be the same, when God specifically instructed us to adhere to the precept that we are all created in God’s image. If everyone was the same, then all we would have to do to is just get together and then the more of us there are together the more godly we would be. But of course, God knows that people are flawed and not everyone spends their time thinking of such things because God also knows that people are inherently lazy and try to distance themselves from the truth. People are renowned for being hard-headed and playing God, and the ones who are wind up doing exactly the opposite of what God wants for us.

Yes, God is pissed. God told me that unless people get their shit together quickly then the plug is going to be pulled on this madness. God isn’t saying just yet how this is going to happen because there has to be a big surprise or else people won’t pay attention. But I sense that it is going to have something to do with the economy, and it will likely involve China. But don’t quote me on that.

God is so pissed off that I understand there are plans on the table to just keep making the confusion that is in abundance from the government and the media (not to mention the Federal Reserve) get bigger and bigger and people will just become more and more desperate, until they are literally slugging it out in broad daylight from street to street – kind of like another round of civil rights riots except this time political correctness gets k.o.’ed. But then being the benevolent and forgiving God that we have, there is also a theory that perhaps the whole thing will just fizzle out and people will come to their senses by some miraculous thing happening, for example, like people starting to think for themselves instead of repeating garbage they hear on teevee. (To be perfectly honest, God isn’t too crazy about that one as you can tell given the increasing volume of videos of people chanting and singing for Obama.)

I just wanted you to know that God is definitely pissed and the proverbial substance is going to hit the fan. What God is really the most pissed about are people who are literally abusing children in the name of God. People are going along with compromising the future of children by denying them access to jobs and a future so as to keep them subservient to others and controllable by people rather than being mindful of their unique God-like qualities. God is pissed at the media for mocking children by propagandizing them for profit and getting them hooked on credit cards and lifestyles beyond their reach. God is definitely pissed at bankers, who lure people into slavery with loans they can’t afford and then when people lose everything the banks get more money so that they can do it again to people’s kids.

God is extremely pissed off, and you need to know it. I am sick and tired of listening to this little voice inside of me for all this time. I needed to share it with you or else I was going to go off into a rage. When God talks, it isn’t always pleasant. Right now, it’s just about as unpleasant as it can get without people just losing it and heading off to Guyana to set up another People’s Temple. Maybe man-made utopia isn’t such a good idea after all, and all the great soothsayers and prophets aren’t what people hold them up to be. God is definitely pissed off at the ones who think they can play God and convince others that they and not God have the answers.

Yep, that’s right. God has had it, and the clock is running out. The neat way about how faith works is that it isn’t easy to be faithful, because if it were then we would not be reminded of our godliness. When God finally lets loose with the rage and the anger that is waiting there for lots of people, it is definitely going to spare a good number of those of us who behave and respect ourselves and our unique soul and that of others. For all the rest of you out there who have been worshiping certain individuals whom we shall not name because of blasphemy, you better watch out. The cosmic shit is going to hit the fan. What is about to happen is going to make Sodom and Gomorrah look like a picnic.

But please don’t take my word for it. Just listen to what your inner voice is telling you, and chances are if you can hear it then you’ll also know that God is pissed.

-TDN

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From breitbart…

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Forget about the race card. It’s the whole race deck we’re talking about, and the Democrats are playing it from the bottom of the deck. Here’s Walter Mondale going for it and piling on. When in doubt, just call everyone who doesn’t agree with you racist.

By Alexander Burns
Politico
September 23, 2009

Former Vice President Walter Mondale has joined his old boss Jimmy Carter in arguing that some of the opposition to President Barack Obama’s agenda is fueled by racial animus.

Asked at an event in Washington late Wednesday whether he agreed with the former president that racism was behind some criticism of Obama, Mondale took a long pause before answering: “Yeah.”

“I don’t like saying it,” Mondale continued. “Having lived through those years, when civil rights was such a bitter issue, and when we argued those things for years, … I know that some of that must still be around.”

“I don’t want to pick a person [and] say, ‘He’s a racist,’ but I do think the way they’re piling on Obama — the harshness — you kind of feel it,” he said. “I think I see an edge in them that’s a little bit different and a little harsher than I’ve seen in other times.”

At a screening of a new documentary on his life, “Fritz: The Walter Mondale Story” at George Washington University’s School of Media and Public Affairs, the 1984 Democratic nominee for president lamented what he called a coarse tone in political life today, telling the audience: “It’s been discouraging to watch this health care debate.”

But Mondale had high marks for the Obama administration, praising Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and predicting that Defense Secretary Robert Gates, a Republican, would be remembered as one of the most “superb” men to lead the Pentagon.

Without mentioning former President George W. Bush’s name, Mondale compared Obama favorably with other recent occupants of the White House.

“I find it a great relief just to hear somebody make sense,” Mondale quipped, to laughter and applause.

With health care reform stalled in the Senate, Mondale, a former senator from Minnesota, offered this advice to Obama: “He has to learn how to push a little harder. … When there are big issues, the president has to get personally and intensely involved in order to move the Congress.”

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