American Elections 4 - Tips for International Followers - Who is the Dreaded Establishment in the American election?

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I have been following throughout the election the media focus on "The Establishment," the true villain to the "outsiders" running for president.  There are some interesting conclusions one might reach in discussing such a Dark Force.

For one, the absolute lack of historical perspective by the reporters is depressing to anyone hoping to find high journalistic standards in the reporting.  If one were to believe all the various stories one might think this is a new phenomenon in this election cycle and that is false.

Quite the contrary, the lack of definition by the media of what is the establishment results in a total failure to identify who is the establishment.  As a result, I say shame on a media that claims to be your source of information, and implied truth, yet operates without the benefit of historical perspective when writing about the establishment and the impact on the election.

Defining the Establishment

So let me define the establishment.  They are the people, organizations, political parties, corporations, bankers, and institutions whose own special interest is more important to them than what is good for the people.

Make no mistake this villain has been around since the dawning of civilization.  Since then there has been a continuous war of words, and even arms, as in the weapons type, between the power seekers and the people.

Our nation was born in a revolution against the establishment at the time, the British Empire, and has been a continuous struggle for control between the people and the establishment ever since.  Many of those perceived as the establishment change from time to time although there is a core that has perpetrated their power as long as there has been a nation.

Greed for power, the audacity for knowing what is right for the people, control of the institutions, manipulation of the government, an insatiable appetite for wealth and money, all characterize the foundation of the establishment.  This group sees themselves as the sole judge of what is right and best for the people.

More often than not, they harbor a disdain for the people casting them off as ignorant and uninformed.  Thus, we begin to see the complexity of the establishment and difficulty one may have in identifying them.

The establishment can be a group, a corporation, advocates of a social cause, political partisans, even individuals provided they are billionaires.

The Ruling Oligarchy

However, the core and foundation for the establishment reflects the prestige of the blue bloods who have survived for generations, to wit, the Goldman Sachs, Rockefellers, Lehmans and Kuhn Loebs of New York; the Rothschilds of Paris and London; the Warburgs of Hamburg; the Lazards of Paris; and the Israel Moses Seifs of Rome.

It is this group and their network of banks that effectively control all major corporations and banks in America and most of the civilized world.  The same group has been fighting for control of American assets and wealth since the American Revolution.  You hear not a word from the media about the power, reach, and control of this group because they hide their holdings in a complex ownership maze and use far removed agents to do their bidding.

Control of arms, energy, transportation, finances, diamonds, gold, even economies of most governments of the world are the tools of this group used successfully not just for generations, for centuries.

Here you have the core foundation of the establishment that has tormented presidents for nearly 250 years from Washington to Jackson, Lincoln to Kennedy, Reagan and beyond, through their banking maze and Federal Reserve control.  .  

This oligarchy controls the world and the American public is beginning to understand how powerful the establishment has become in exerting control over our institutions, and becoming aware of the self-serving greed of said oligarchy.

The Agents, Institutions, and Special Interests

I noted the wealth and reach of the oligarchy reaches into the mainstream of our society through the many ways we spend money.  Thus, the special interests that lobby, pay off, and even own our elected officials and political personalities can be extensive.

Lobbyists for special interests and the special interests themselves like the banking, financial, pharmaceutical, health care, insurance, transportation, energy, automobile, food, arms, and other major institutions are card-carrying members.

Even groups like the Chamber of Commerce, Labor Unions and Teachers, and Lawyers are hardcore members of the establishment though with far less political clout than those previously mentioned.

A major institution is the bureaucracy of government at the federal, state, and local levels, as distinguished from the workers for the bureaucracy covered by the unions.

Colleges and Universities as a whole, and in particular individual institutions like Harvard, Yale, and Princeton of the Ivy League are major players because they have been educating the children of the rich and powerful for over two centuries.  As a result, their alumni are the rulers of the world and the children of the alumni receive legacy status assuring them a place in the hallowed halls of the Ivy League without competing for limited openings.

It is no accident these three Ivy League schools are in a league of their own as Harvard has produced six presidents, Yale three, and Princeton two, eleven of our forty-four presidents from just three schools.

In fact, Yale and Harvard have now controlled the United States presidency 28 straight years, and with Hillary Clinton from Yale and Ted Cruz from Harvard, the streak may extend another eight years. 

  

Political Parties and Social Causes

Beyond the membership already outlined in the establishment, there are the political parties, the Democratic and Republican national and statewide organizations, along with the political action committees (PACS), who provide the dollars to maintain the political agendas of the two parties.  In truth, no political agenda articulated in a campaign is implemented once someone is elected as both parties are beholden to the same Core Establishment controlling the wealth and finances of the nation.

PACS can be party affiliated or Super PACS who can support any party, cause, or person they want who will best protect the establishment.

As for the Social Causes, many have become so institutionalized and powerful over the years that they now represent tentacles of the establishment.  Money has no opinion, no favorite cause nor bias, it is the people who control the wealth who do.

Most powerful among the social cause institutions is the National Rifle Association.  Others who yield lesser degrees of power are Planned Parenthood, the Right to Choice, Prolife, and well down the list are the various groups involved in civil rights, equality, anti-discrimination, and others.

There you have it, a definitive identification of the Establishment, perhaps missing a few players, but far more inclusive than anything the media has done to date.  Of course the bottom line is this.  The New World Order is the Old World Order.

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Left Handed, Four Eyed, Small Town & Catholic - and they call me Lucky???

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Note to the reader:

If you want to read these stories in order you can click on the following story links:

Part I.  http://coltonspointtimes.blogspot.com/2012/09/left-handed-four-eyed-small-town.html

Part II.  http://coltonspointtimes.blogspot.com/2012/10/left-handed-four-eyed-small-town.html

Part III.  http://coltonspointtimes.blogspot.com/2012/10/left-handed-four-eyed-small-town_4.html

Part IV.  http://coltonspointtimes.blogspot.com/2012/10/left-handed-four-eyed-small-town_5.html

Part V.  http://coltonspointtimes.blogspot.com/2012/10/left-handed-four-eyed-small-town_8.html

Part V.

I had more than my share of mystical challenges thanks to my maternal Grandfather of the Irish Campbell clan.  Of all his grandkids, he picked me to be entrusted as the future custodian of the family secrets in the ways of magic.

Maybe he did it because I, like my mother Patricia, shared his Patrick given Christian name, my middle name and Confirmation name.  I might have lost the Campbell Irish/Scottish surname but at least I kept the Irish Patrick name.

As far as magic was concerned, in Grandpa Pat's world it was impossible to distinguish between the magic used in ancient (Pagan) days or the more recent Christian era.

What he taught me through stories, fables and fantasies seemed to transcend time as if it really didn't matter when it began, the magic was real if you believed in it.

Perhaps an unexpected benefit of the blending of the Campbell (Irish) and Putnam (English) DNA was my interest in both the ancient Irish and British Celtic cultures, which made me feel at home in Newgrange Ireland or Stonehenge England.  For that matter I felt the same up at Loch Ness in the Scottish Highlands when I was searching for Nessie.

When I think back of my Grandfather, I often wonder if he was really a Leprechaun in disguise or perhaps a magical wizard.  My first memories of him came when I asked him why he didn't have a thumb?  It seemed like a good question to me, even if I was only about four or five.

First his always smiling rugged Irish face broke into a mischievous grin.  Of course at that age he already towered over me.  Then he started laughing.  Then he just stared at his missing thumb for what seemed like an eternity.

Much later I would learn it was his tactic of stalling while he made up some wild Irish tale to spin on me.  At long last he shrugged, slowly shook his head, and admitted he lost his thumb when some nasty gnome popped out of the old clothes washer and grabbed his hand, pulling his thumb right into the clothes wringer looming menacingly over the washer tub.

Oh my God, I thought at the time, Grandpa must have powerful magic to fight off an evil gnome and only lose one finger.  He must be like my hero Merlin.

And that is one of the problems of bouncing freely between my fantasy world and reality.  I had no reason to doubt his veracity.  Even after he told me all good stories are only half true.

Don't think any other grandkids shared my strange world but my Irish grandfather most certainly did, as he was not a bit surprised I was so gullible.  So I passed the entrance exam to become custodian of the magic world of the Campbell clan et all and here I had no clue I was even being tested.

One of the reasons I'm sure he was a wizard was his ability to enchant me with his stories, as if I were under some spell.  I remember story after story of the world of the little people of Ireland but I have no memory of my grandfather telling me the stories, even though I knew I was with him at the time.

Sometimes I would have this faint recollection of having experienced the stories with him rather than being told by him and that was a most peculiar and unsettling notion.  I could just imagine the trouble I would be in if I could leap between worlds or dimensions at will.

From Alice's Wonderland to Tinker Bell's Never Land to Arthur's Camelot and back home again.  In truth most times it was hard to tell the difference between them.

Grandpa Pat made it okay to lose yourself in all those other worlds.  He also made it okay to create your own worlds as well.  There was one thing he was never going to lose and that was his right to his individual freedom.

There was a big difference in what those words meant between his grandson and his daughter, the grandson's mother.  Me and my mother in case you were confused.

I said it was a noble declaration of individual rights as well as a validation of the United States Declaration of Independence and Constitution by my Grandfather whose very own heritage taught him the tragic consequences of being denied such rights!

His daughter just sneered at me.

Then she said don't you patronize me with your intellectual nonsense or your idiotic conclusions.  What my father and your grandfather meant was if you don't like the truth - then change it!

I never would have figured that out on my own.

So I accepted her interpretation as her interpretation knowing full well mine was far more concise and consistent with how he lived.

Old Pat had that Scottish resolve and that Irish flair for living.  He met a number of my "how to spot a wizard" criteria beginning with the missing thumb tale.  By now it had magically transformed into how he used his thumb to plug up the hole in the Holland dikes like in the fairy tale.

I was not about to question my grandfather.

To my absolute delight and amazement, both my grandfathers were world class pack rats.  It was in the DNA.  There was no rhyme nor reason to what they "saved" as they called it.  They taught me the greatest of all collections you can have are fond memories you have known.

To share their world was to leave behind all rules, regulations, laws and definitions.  That was the single most powerful gift I had been given.  To understand I could step beyond definition knowing it was just another mechanism to limit your perception of truth, was a great and lasting legacy from my grandfathers.

They also taught me how to lose and how to survive.

I'm sure there are a lot of things they taught me I should not have learned but that remains to be seen.

Whatever else it was they shared, when Grandpa Pat said to never, ever tell my mom or anyone the things he shared with me I was marked for life.   Throughout his life and beyond his death my mom and her sisters never quit trying to get me to spill the beans on their father.

They were convinced because I spent so much time with him over the years that I knew everything about the "secret" life he kept from them.  Convinced I was a co-conspirator to hide assets and protect people in his life he did not want them to know about, they could never accept that someone like me could go through life without spying on people.

Oh there was a lot I did know, learn or observe over the years but nothing like they wanted to hear.  He did take me to obscure places in Texas to see cotton fields and citrus fields he owned, or a motel in Springfield, Missouri he owned, or farms in Iowa and Nebraska.

It wasn't my fault he didn't want to tell his own kids.  Besides, I was sworn to secrecy in a pact with a wizard.  You do not violate such confidences.  And I had no desire to wind up a frog or something.

Grandfather Putnam was equally eccentric and just as fiercely independent.  His life was a whirlpool of constant activity built around his many business ventures all connected to his long lineage of engineers, inventors and members of secret societies.

There was the Loyal Order of the Moose, the Masons, his own Moose Club Orchestra, the car dealer, tool and die shop, welding supply business, machine shop, beer distributor, apartment owner, nursing home owner and inventor.

I got to use his machine shop.  And his beer distributorship long before I was of legal age.  And Grandpa Put gave me my first American car, in a way.  He had a '49 Chev with a blown engine sitting behind his distributorship and I asked if I could buy it.

He said I could have it if I could drive it out.  Of course I was still a year from getting a driver's license and by then my family had been banished from the hometown and sent to live in exile in Southern Iowa.  Boy does that story sound familiar.

The exile left me 80 miles from Iowa City where the dead car sat behind the mountain of beer.  It took me less than month working on weekends with the help of my good friend Turtle and thanks to the genius of a son of my uncle's brother, or something like that.

Bobby, my relative and about ten years older and one hundred years wiser knew how to get anything done as fast as possible with the fewest questions.  He was a legendary fixer in Iowa City and his was the first place I headed when I got to town.

One time I broke a windshield in a borrowed car and he got it replaced in the middle of the night and no one knew it was ever broken.

This time he guided my repair of the old Chev and one Saturday my Grandpa stopped by the shop and the Chev was gone, eleven months before I turned 16 and got my license.  In a quiet town 80 miles away the Chev was parked two blocks away from my house where it remained a secret until I got my license.

Grandpa Put was not a bit surprised.

One night when we were working on the Chev Bobby, my somewhat wayward relative, told me if I really wanted an interesting care I should ask his dad, Frank, to give me an English Austin he had given Bobby for high school graduation years ago.

That got my attention.

Seems his day Dad was an electrical contractor who helped keep the lights on in London during all those years of bombing by the Nazis.  As a token of their gratitude, they gave him an Austin from the first production of passenger cars after World War II.

That would be 1946, the year of my birth.  Bobby hated the little European car.  Called it a sissy car.  Bobby would know, he was a grease monkey with an attitude.  A dead ringer for Jimmy Dean who had recently died.

As for the Austin, of course it was not the sports model he might have liked but the four door sedan that looked like an English taxi.

Bobby drove it less than 3,000 miles then permanently parked it in one of their garages, his dad owned several homes and properties.  One day I found it in the garage on a farm, again when I was 15, and though it had not been moved in 14 years I wanted it.  I of true Rothschild lineage was destined to have and to drive a vintage English classic.

So I asked Frank, Bobby's dad, if he would sell me the strange little car I found in his garage out on the farm by Indian Lookout Mountain.

He asked why I would want a car like that?  His own son called it a sissy car.  Fourteen years later and it was still a sensitive issue between Bobby and his dad.

When he said he would let me know sometime it sounded like a complete blow off, I would never be able to afford or get the car.  Later that year I got a birthday card from Frank.  Taped inside the card were the keys to the car.  There was no note.

The Putnam's were like that.  If they thought something was right they just did it.  No fanfare, no notes, just the keys taped in a card.  Within months of first getting my driver's license I had two cars licensed and running and paid for neither.  Yet another reason my mother said I was always lucky.

Of course she never considered the fact I had searched out the two cars, checked them out and pursued the owners to make a deal.  Then I had to fix them up.  Initiative was not her strong suit.  Of course it had to be luck.

Then again she was the one empowered to change the truth if she didn't like it.   We just never saw eye to eye.
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Left Handed, Four Eyed, Small Town & Catholic - and they call me Lucky???

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Part I.

As of today we have seven weeks until the election and thirteen weeks until the End of Time according to the Mayan calendar.  What a contrast?  Seven like the seven sacred days of creation, or the light.  Or thirteen like the superstitious and foreboding number of the dark.

So I am going to tell you about my newest book that is a work in progress in hopes it gives you something new to consider while distracting you from the lies and deception in everyday life which none of us needs.

By the way, don't bother trying to buy it yet because I can't finish it until we survive the End Times in 13 weeks.  I'm really quite tired of sequels.

Youth truly is wasted on the young.  If only we could have waited until we piled up all those experiences, feelings, joys, failures, loves found and lost loves before we lost our innocence, our ability to dream and our faith in the unknown.

Instead we spend a lifetime getting beaten down, educated I guess they call it, tricked, fooled, disappointed and occasionally, well, we might even find a moment to get happy.

That is not to say everyone is that way but now that I am much older and wiser I have noticed there are fewer and fewer happy people.

But who am I to talk?  The title of this article, "Left Handed, Four Eyed, Small Town & Catholic - and they call me Lucky???" is actually the title of my latest book, unfinished, which is my somewhat cavalier attempt at an autobiography.

Most autobiographies are about famous people so I certainly don't expect this book to ever be on the New York Times best seller list.  I mean I'm just a Hayseed from Iowa.

How many people do you know that start life with four strikes against them?  You see, I would have been most fortunate if those were the only strikes against me in life.  But no, my role as entertainer to the gods or archangels or whatever celestial beings needed comic relief was far more endowed with strikes against me than being merely left handed, four eyed, small town and Catholic.

My maternal side of the family, the Campbell clan, left me with a legacy of the fantastic and mysterious ways of the Dark Irish, a familiarity with the little people from Fairies to Leprechauns, an unsought awareness of the ancient Druid wizards and high priests, healers and storytellers, and a whole bunch of other weird, mystical and metaphysical stuff.

One might say I was genetically manufactured with the best and worst of Scotland, Ireland and the Celtic Campbell clan.  The ultimate hybrid DNA.

Then there was the paternal side, the Putnam clan, mostly English aristocrats with a touch of German engineering and inventiveness, and pretty much at odds with everything from the whimsical and magical world of my mother's ancestors.  They were the aristocratic ancestry leading to various figures of nobility I dare not mention lest I sully their memories in the history books we read.

Why my father's non-Catholic ancestors even had their own big church near London shortly after the English drove the Catholics out of Britain, meaning back when my father's side in jolly old England drove my mother's side from their ancient homes in the Scottish Highlands to Ireland and eventually to land here in America.

I don't know a lot about DNA and genetic coding but if we are the product of our parents and ancestors combined DNA then I must have lived in a constant state of revolution and never known who I could trust from my own family.

However, I cannot afford to believe in the children inheriting the sins of their fathers or mothers or ancestors.  From the little genealogy I have dared to research about my family the burden of sins like those are of such tremendous magnitude that us siblings haven't got a chance in Hell of living normal lives.

That sucks...

When I get to the Pearly Gates and confront St. Peter I expect he will not find my name on the invitation list.  And based on the sins of my families my judgment was a foregone conclusion long before I even died.

Still I am a writer and storyteller by birthright, ancestry and intuitive expectation and I am an occasional believer, when it suits my purpose, that we can create our own reality so don't be surprised that at the moment of my birth I had the dreadful realization that a very serious mistake had been made.

It was a dread that would haunt me through my life.  You see, I just knew there was a serious mix up at God's baby processing facility in Heaven and some absent-minded angel had sent me to the wrong family on earth.

Over time it was to become obvious.

I was supposed to be born a Rothschild in the legendary House of Rothschild in London, home of one of the most mysterious and powerful families in history.  Of course there is no single House of Rothschild but castles all over Europe and the world.

My real family owned nations, kings, diamonds, gold, banks and politicians.  Though my palate back in Iowa called for lobster, caviar, sconces and tea, I was stuck with pork, corn, hamburgers and hot dogs.

I did the best I could in a world without soufflé.

Of course, there were serious sacrifices.   I expected armies of servants, limos and trillions of dollars, but I had to settle for an apartment in small town Iowa, parents who were just college students themselves, and a family history of bizarre tragedies and wild magic.

So very reluctantly I was forced to accept the cards I had been dealt in life and rest assured it was the last time I ever trusted a card dealer.

However, I never let go of the hope that one day when the baby factory in Heaven was audited they would find and rectify the fatal mistake that made a potential Rothschild prodigy into a cursed Campbell-Putnam ancestor.

I really don't like all that "sins of the father" talk, it hits far too close to home.

Go back to the 1600's, just after the age of my favorite Queen of England, Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen.   During her reign she did her best to prevent her father's (Henry the VIII no less her mother having been beheaded by old Henry) orders to persecute the Catholics by forcing them to renounce their Catholic faith or drive them from Britain.

It just so happens that one of the most powerful Catholic clans in Scotland was the Campbell clan, my folks.  For decades, maybe centuries they had ruled in the desolate but beautiful Scottish Highlands and fought against the imperial English rule.

Of course it was the same English rule that the non-Catholic Putnam family in London was advocating.  After Elizabeth's death at the turn of the 17th century the rule was finally enforced and the Campbell clan was given a choice, denounce your Catholic faith or go to Ireland.

What a choice.  Give up all ancestral religion, rights, titles and property under Great Britain or go to Ireland.   They made it sound as if Ireland was a far worse fate than losing everything.

Well my family had been Irish more recently than we were English so we knew the deceitful Brits were lying about Ireland.  They just hated the place because the Irish kept rejecting English rule.

Needless to say my ancestors held to their conviction and were thus banished from their homeland, estates and titles.  After a few generations in Ireland the Campbell family then migrated to America.  They were victims of one side of the family curse.

Once the Putnam's got the Campbell and other Catholics out of England they then migrated to America as well, arriving sometime earlier than the Campbell clan in the mid sixteen hundreds.

Specifically the Putnam's arrived in New England and some chose to settle in a Puritan place called Salem, Massachusetts,  just in time for the Salem Witch trials.  Thus set in motion the other half of the family curse.

Here it gets quite complicated.  Just take a look at the court transcripts of that fateful and tragic trial in the 1690's.

You see, there was a Puritan Putnam family who spent years creating a safe and isolated haven to protect the "witches" from harm by the village church fanatics.

Then into the story comes a young Putnam girl named Anne, but not from the Putnam family creating the safe haven, rather she was the minister's daughter from town.  She told her preacher father she had been possessed by the witches and made to do things against her will.

A bunch of other local kids joined the chorus and all those witches being protected by one Putnam family were arrested and tried for practicing Black Magic on those poor innocent children of the villagers by the other Putnam family.

You probably heard the rest.  A couple of dozen witches were burned or hanged to death, later the kids admitted they made up the story, and thus began the curse of the Salem witches cast upon the immediate and all future Putnam descendants until the blood line was wiped out.

It was as good a curse as any ancient Egyptian curse (King Tut) or Medieval curse from the Spanish Inquisition.

At any rate I would not have thought much about the curse except one day I was reading about Amelia Earnhardt, the world famous airplane pilot, and I realized that Amelia married a certain George Putnam of the New England Putnam family when she was 33 years old, and six years later she disappeared off the face of the earth.

Well, so goes the story of my ancestry as passed down from generations of Celtic and thus Irish storytellers.  My Irish grandfather on the Campbell side used to tell me one should only half believe any good story told.

But I can tell you this.  Where I was born, Iowa City, Iowa, was home to the University of Iowa Scottish Highlanders Marching band, one of the most famous bagpipe bands in the world.  Why were they also found far from the magical land of the Loch Ness monster in the same town where I lived in Iowa? 

Here are the Highlanders performing as I used to see them when I went to the stadium to watch them practice.

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White House Aides Hit Airways as Obama Budget Hits America

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You always know when the president or congress are trying to pull a fast one on the public. There are two tactics that indicate a major deception is underway. One is if they release information Friday night, after the work week, after the news deadlines, after the people are out for the evening, and when the top reporters have the night off. A second is if they send a herd of babbling politicians and spokespeople out to blanket the news media to super-pitch a new idea, policy, strategy or something to the public.



My common sense rule is if they need to send out the pitchmen then something in the deal smells. If an idea can't stand on it's own merit, if it needs a constant explanation from politicians, if the public just can't get it, then something must be wrong with it. You've heard Obama and his White House gang lament over and over how health care is too complicated for the public, they didn't understand it enough, or they were misled by misinformation from the opposing side.



In Iowa vernacular, that is defined as hogwash. For those of you not growing up in Iowa the definition of hogwash is a noun 1. refuse given to hogs; swill, 2. any worthless stuff, 3. meaningless or insincere talk, writing, etc.; nonsense; bunk.

The Obama budget is a masterpiece in worthless junk and probably doesn't even make a good doorstop. Let me cut through the crap and give you a capsule overview. The Obama budget is the death knell of our nation as we know it.



The assumptions are from the same prognosticators who told us a year ago the unemployment rate would remain below 8%. The same voodoo high priests who told us the Obama stimulus bill would actually stimulate something. The same fortune tellers who said the bank, insurance, auto and Wall Street bailouts were in the public interest.



Near as I can tell the Obama budget may or may not say the nation will be bankrupt in about 10 years. It might say record setting deficit spending, all Bush's fault mind you, will set a record about every six months and the national debt will most likely have to be updated every day. Here is what it looks like updated in real time. Copy and paste the following link for a real scare.

http://www.usdebtclock.org/#

While entitlement programs like Social Security and Medicare make up much of the budget there will be no proposals to reduce the cost, eliminate fraud and reduce overhead unless we agree to spend another trillion dollars on health care. If they know we have $5 billion in legal fees for paying off attorneys and another $500 million a year in fraud why not get rid of the problems?



There will be no revenue streams for new money for the government yet we could become energy independent and make money for the government if we drilled for oil and natural gas reserves and encouraged new, more efficient ways to extract them from our land, not foreign countries.



While we have incentives for new energy systems in cars, which work but the car will cost about $60,000 -$100,000, there are no incentives for car companies to make the current internal combustion engine more efficient. We already know the current oil powered engine can be 80% more efficient, thus extending the life of available oil reserves by possibly over 100 years. That would make it long after the current deficit crisis is over and we would continue to have tax revenues from oil. If Obama gets us to convert to non-oil sources how will he make up the billions more in lost tax revenue? Under the Obama cap and trade program the private, Wall Street investors will make the money, not the government. Gored by Gore again.



Anyway, it is great to hear so many Administration non-economists and professional apologists hit the airways and be interviewed by a news media with less expertise, understanding or comprehension of the disastrous consequences of increasing deficits and national debt. White House aides Axelrod or Gibbs being interviewed by a news media White House correspondent is like asking Julia Child for help with football strategy. And anyone in their right mind even thinking of interviewing VP Joe Biden, the godfather of the credit card industry, on the fairness of Obamanomics is, well, insane. Just ask MSNBC.



Let's face it, Obama's Treasury Secretary did not even know Goldman Sachs and a bevy of tainted banks would get $60 billion from AIG when the White House bailed them out. If they can't even keep track of $60 billion how can they know about trillions? Or did they really know about the $60 billion? Come to think of it, when Congress held the hearings spanking the little butts of the big banks for stealing all that money from us, why didn't anyone ask if the president knew about the deal?

This budget cannot even be financed, the deficit side that is, when China and Russia are the largest purchasers of our debt and the Obama administration has infuriated both of them with our haphazard approach to foreign policy.

As I study this maze of governmental gobbledygook it reminds me of the annual National Enquirer report on fortune tellers and psychics telling us everything that will happen in the next year as far as the enlightened ones are concerned. Our White House and Congress seemed to be filled with soothsaying enlightened ones and I say it is time to turn out the lights!



Finally, if I were an advocate of conspiracy theories I would say Obama, the Rothschild's very own Chosen One, has finally figured out a way to make America subservient to the New World Order as bankrupting our nation would make us hostages to the international shadow world ending a 200 year quest by the Illuminati to get control of the US Treasury.

I guess this is really what we should expect when we get a new administration with all that experience. But then conspiracy theories are not real, are they?