My Second Thirteenth Wedding Anniversary

My friend in Cedar Grove called me the other night and said he was celebrating his second thirteenth wedding anniversary and I believe that may be the start of a wonderful country music song. So here goes the start of the song. My Second Thirteenth Wedding Anniversary/ Been driving this big rig all night long/ with you inside my head like a favorite song /push up the speed cause I can't be late /for my second thirteenth wedding anniversary date/ chorus /he can't be late, he's gotta date /driving along you are his song/ driving along you are his song /he's gotta date, he can't be late/ This side of Memphis threw a retread /same silly song plays in my head /push up the speed cause I can't be late/ to my second thirteenth wedding anniversary date/ chorus/ he can't be late, he's gotta date /threw a retread with you in his head/ threw a retread with you in his head/ he's gotta a date, he can't be late /Look up ahead can't believe the time /already made it to my exit sign/ I've got the flowers, I can't be late/ to my second thirteenth wedding anniversary date/ chorus/ he can't be late, he's gotta date /look at the time his exit sign/ look at the time his exit sign /he's gotta date, he can't be late/. Parking this old truck tears in my eyes/ Sun's to the east starting to rise/ here are the flowers I promised you dear/ and though you are dead I feel you are near/ chorus/ he wasn't late he's gotta date/ she may be dead, but still in his head/ tears in his eyes, sun starts to rise /he's gotta date, and he wasn't late/ I can't believe how time it does fly/ and trust in the Lord still wondering why/ you were taken , just my terrible fate/ this is my second thirteenth wedding anniversary date All parts of this poem are copyrighted and no parts may be reproduced hummed, sung out loud or urinated upon without the expressed written permission of the author,

Jackson Delano Maybolt,

President, Urban Poverty Law Center

Urban Poverty Law Center Letters To and From a Son of Bitch

A good friend's mother passed last week with metastatic renal cancer. He described her last days as wracked with pain. I have been wondering why pain with cancer? My thoughts follow.

Pain is useful in most situations. Touch a hot plate and pain sets the reflexive cascade of withdrawal from the source before your mind can comprehend what is happening. Sprain or break an ankle and you will not walk on the affected area to avoid pain. Allows for healing.

Swell a gallbladder and you will seek medical attention before it becomes gangrene. So pain is important in our lives.

What about the pain in cancer? Cancer spreads and compresses your normal tissues and stops your organs from functioning properly, nerves are irritated and pain, often horrible pain ensues.

Could pain be the key to letting the cancer patient know that it is time to die? The soul's home for its entire earthly existence has become hostile and unable to support life any further. Our desire to hang in there is instinctual and hard to shake unless the pain gives one the resolve and the realization that you must move on and that staying in your earthly shell is no longer a viable option. The soul eventually takes the hint and off we go.

When my sister drew her last breath her best friend and I were at her bedside watching and as she took the cosmic trip out of her body she vocalized a distinct "whew!" with her last exhalation.

Other observations and random thoughts. Many with cancer get hyper-clotting disorders and are prone to developing clots that can cause sudden death by closing off the blood supply from the heart to the lungs. Is this a relatively painless out in which the cancer patient could avoid the painful suffering of the final agony or just a freaky coincidence? I believe in the former.

When I was about 10 yrs old I feared death almost to a psychosis. My father, who was perhaps one of the brightest 1000 people ever born, allayed my fears when I confided in him my concerns.

"Daddy, I am afraid to die."

"Why?"

"I just am."

"Well, my boy, there is nothing to really be afraid of and I will explain it to you."

"OK."

"Try and think back to what it was like before you were born. What do you remember?"

"Well, I do not remember anything at all."

"Were you in pain? Hungry? Sad? Frightened?"

"No, daddy."

"Well, you see, there is nothing to worry about."

I was lucky I could ask my father about any number of subjects and he was so well read he would voice an opinion. Later in life I asked him why the years fly by when we get older and as children time was painfully slow when awaiting Christmas gifts for example.

"Time", he said, "is relative to the observer. By this I mean if you live from year one to year two, you have increased your time in this life by 100%. This same year to a 20 yr old is 5% and only 2% of a 50 yr old's time experience. Therefore time seems to speed up as you age."

It is as simple as that.

The Letter: Wednesday, 29 January 1992

Dear Jacky,

I have to tell you about the French Count I met, you already know this probably--met him at Stirling's who then owned Errol Flynn's old house in the hills, a neat little place, and Stirling's sister in law at the time was there and she had a date with the count and we were all having brunch and the count told his story:

He was in medical school in Paris, as a young man when came word his father was dead and that his inheritance was his. He and his brother shared a considerable fortune, and the Count dropped his books and took off his white coat and said goodbye to his envious fellow med students and began traveling--following his nose as it were.

He soon found himself in the forests of Siam as happy only a young multi-millionaire can be and he began seeing on his walks through the forest a beautiful native girl flitting among the trees and innocent of a stitch of clothing--totally naked.

This aroused his interest and by sign language and gifts of this and that (probably Mars Bars and Baby Ruths and such, If I had my guess) he made friends with this nubile vision of loveliness.

One thing lead to another. It just so happened that she was scheduled for a special sacred ceremony then part of that particular region's religion in which the priests crowned her queen of the May or something--it was the Strawberry Festival, in other words. And she was IT that year. But when they examined her they discovered that the Festival Queen who was supposed to be a VIRGIN was very pregnant.

It did not take them long to zero in on the Count and he was summarily sentenced to death by beheading. Proof he was not beheaded was there in Stirling's breakfast room on that sunny California morning. The French Embassy rescued him somehow. And no, he did not marry the girl or give the baby a name or anything noble like that. He just made tracks out of Dodge and NEVER went back.

After that he looked for a place to invest his money and lit upon very safe and profitable sugar plantations in Cuba. Stashed his money there and lived very, very comfortably for many years--with an income of in the neighborhood (back then) of more than $40,000 a month. He did not lack for a thing.

Then the blow fell by the name of Fidel. No more income. He repaired to Italy to his brother's villa and they discussed his problem. They had a contract drawn up giving the brother half of the Count's interest in the confiscated lands in Cuba in return for an income of $10,000 a month.

This considerably clipped the Count's wings. He could not frequent the casinos as before. He had to get rid of his houses and several of his cars and yachts and cut the salaries of all his mistresses, some of whom, of course, went on to greener and golder pastures--but--life was not as bad as all that. After all when one has at an early age been sentenced to death in the jungles of Siam, life on ten grand a month can have some savor left--if one is careful.

The next blow fell, though he did not at the time recognize it as a blow.

His brother died. Well, that was sad. But the first month came as months will, and the check(a la William M., if you will) did not appear. And so on--and finally the Count went to Italy and looked up the grieving widow, his sister-in-law, and said, about our contract the plantations in Cuba:

"Ah," said she, (I am sure she is D.'s double only older) "I don't need any sugar plantations--you may have back all my interests in them. Goodbye!"

She said this "Goodbye" with such a musical lilt I am sure it rings in his ear even today when (if he is still living) he subsists on $300 per month from "friends" and lives in Panama. I hope none of our bombs or bullets hit him. He was an elegant man.

Is that a good story? It is a true story. A real story. A lesson for all to attend. Never mind the nigger in the woodpile-- watch out for the WOMAN!

He had by the way been a buddy of Errol Flynn's and had been to that house many times before and had stayed there, but not necessarily for the brunches...

I will survive, I will. And you will always be my son. Nothing can change that--fortunately, unfortunately, however you may look at it--that deal is long since set. I am proud of you and happy for you and thought the story of the Count might amuse you.

As ever the Old Foo,

Dad

22, March 2011

Dear Dad,

I am amused by the story of the Count. I will be very careful in my dealings with women. I sure do like the way they look and smell. Is that just the hormones?

Give my best to the Count if you run into him again in your travels.

Love,

your son

Jacky

Jack D. Maybolt, President Urban Poverty Law Center

Urban Poverty Law Center Protests Libyan Air Strikes

I don't get it. When W invaded Iraq, Moammur Gaddafi, Quadfi, Gadhafi, or Quiefdafi or Kadhaufi, take your pick renounced all his desires to nuclear, and biological weapons of mass destruction. Apparently, a few rebels saw this as weakness in a man who had been for almost 4 decades the go to man if you were a terrorist. He financed and sponsored branches all over the world. Terrorists R US. Google it, if you are a doubter.

Now a few dozen of his citizens or outside instigators, if you please, have decided to attack his government and try to force a violent overthrow of Libya's ruler. Somebody is coveting his tents and all that stuff in the big tent which contains the Muamaur GQKadhaufi show. Our brilliant leader, President Baraque Hussein Obama, intervened two weeks ago by asking his friend, Muamaur GQKadhaufi, to step down and let a throng of thugs lead by the Union Boss, Andrew Stern take over and run the country. Maumaur declined.

Secretary Of State, Mademoiselle Hilary Clinton, has landed on the side of Andy Stern and his union thugs, who apparently have moved their goat and camel show from Madison, Wisconsin to Tripoli, Libya. Things got too hot for SEIU and Andy and Co in Madison when Governor Scott Walker and the state legislature ended their reign of unfettered greed and feed at the public trough of the State of Wisconsin. The jig was up. The problem with socialism is that at some point you run out of other people's money. Wisconsin had run out.

Now the unions will try their luck with oil rich nations. "That oil belongs to the Iraqi people." Similarly, that oil in Libya belongs to Muamar Quiefdafner. A big strong union thug like Andy Stern could simply ride into M Q's camp and pick up a big palm branch and strike him over the head and take over his oil and all its trimmings. Funny how now that President Obama is in office, our US military is doing the Union's bidding and Haliburton and Big Oil have been dropped like a fat gal at the prom with a leaky colostomy bag.

Business is business, and for the first couple of hundred years, the laws of this great nation kept a level playing field. Now if the Union wants your stuff, the government is likely to be complacent with them. Notice the judge in Wisconsin granting a stay of the recent law to limit collective bargaining by public workers. Now SEIU has gone global in the middle east. These fools must believe they can out terrorize the boys from the middle east. I suspect they will try for a decade or two, but will come home with their heads handed to their widows. Organizing a middle easterner is like herding cats. Impossible! Be very, very cautious. Their ways are not our ways.

Andy will soon see that the men of Arabia are not to be trifled with. Our grandfathers would not put up with these sneaky community organizers either. Sooner or later they will run out of our money and we will fight back like the great people of Madison. Let us see what will become of the Unions in the Middle East.

Jackson Delano Maybolt, President Urban Poverty Law Center

"There is no honor among thieves, and I to like honey, especially if it is free." Mother Maybolt, 1928-2008

Urban Poverty Law Center Picks Next President of the United States

In 1976 I was a younger man, most reading this were also younger then unless you were born after that year in which case I do not have a classification of your state, and I was only mildly interested in politics. I had seen Nixon railroaded out of office by a ferocious press and watched the bumbling Gerald Ford pardon Nixon, the right thing to do IMHO, and followed the piano toothed Jimmah Carter's rise to the presidency, but what about Reagan? How did this actor and governor of California fit into the picture.

Reagan was despised by the Get Nixon Press Club. The big three media outlets controlled all information back then and I was afraid the world would end if Reagan was elected. I tuned into the Republican national convention on the night of Gerald Ford's coronation in time to see Ronald Reagan speak to the crowd. I cannot recall what he said, but I do recall what I thought after seeing that speech.

God damn, these idiots have nominated the wrong fellow. Everybody who heard that speech knew that. Reagan was real. He was honest. He was as real as Bill Clinton was phony. When Reagan ran in 1980 I was not old enough not to be swayed by the big three media and I voted for Anderson, that third party footnote who was probably put there like Ross Perot as a spoiler in a vain attempt to keep Reagan from gaining the presidency.

In shame I must admit I voted for Perot and must take my part of the blame for Clinton, who for the most part was a good ole boy with an exaggerated love of women, and aside from a few breaches in national security with technological transfers to China was rather harmless. I do feel he was loose with the truth and an exceptionally adept liar, not a bad trait for a top flight politician.

And now to the pit of this cherry, Sara Palin's VP acceptance speech was a Reaganesque moment. She came across as genuine, smart, honest, and just what the nation needs after this failed experiment with a man whom no one knew until he read a speech at the the 2004 Democrat national convention when our elite press selected him as a poster boy for the next president. He sure does have a perty mouth and a booming voice which is not off key that much from Richard Nixon's vocalization style.

Anyway, as president of the Pulitzer pride winning Urban Poverty Law Center, I declare my love, excuse me Todd, my support for Governor Sarah Heath Palin as the next president of the United States of America.

Her detractors among the media elites are numerous and loud, a sure sign that she is right for Middle America. When you read or hear a "hit piece on Sarah Palin, and with 2012 fast approaching they will be more and louder as these people fear a Sarah Palin's Washington like vampires fear sunlight. The elites know she will shine the light on all the political corruption in our nations capital. Why is the tea party congress unable to move the entrenched members of congress to cut spending? Not in their self-interest.

The political swamp of our current club in Washington DC needs to be drained and the ablest Crock hunter this country has to offer is Sarah Palin. She knows a Crock of crap when she sees it and is not afraid to call it out.

I support her and urge all patriots of this great country to do the same. She is Reagan in high heels.

Jack Maybolt, President Urban Poverty Law Center

"A woman's place may be in the home, but look out when one gets to the Oval office!"

Mother Maybolt, 1922-2008

Urban Poverty Law Center On Japanese Earthquake

First, Susan and I want to express our heartfelt condolences to the people of Japan. No one can know what they are enduring unless they themselves have experienced it.

I had an uncle on my father's side who was kicked in the head by a mule when he was only a little fellow and they called him peanut cause when that mule kicked him in the head it rearranged his head so it looked like a peanut. His head was so swollen after that kick he had to wear two hats for a while.1 When the swelling went down and he did not die, his head, did I tell you already, it looked exactly like a perfect little two pod peanut, large in the front and the back and narrow in the center.

Uncle Peanut never was right in the head. He finished school, but was mostly passed along on social promotions to keep him in with his age group. The teachers back then knew it wernt no use to try to teach Peanut anything. He wassant any trouble at school, he would just sit and look at a snow scene in a glass ball and occasionally squeal with delight as he shook it up and watch the snow in the ball swirl around. Rarely spoke and never cursed.

His mother had a collection of the glass snow balls she got in Memphis when she was a little girl. Peanut loved them all and always brought one with him to school. He was able to master the toilet and kept himself clean and therefore was not a great bother as retards go and was pretty much the school mascot. He got to stand out with the cheerleaders and could direct the marching band, generally had the run of the school.

His daddy got him a job at a machine shop where they made parts for cars. He was handy making parts, but it had to be the same part day in and day out. He could only make one part.

His family took care of him and seen to it that his taxes was paid up, but when his old maid sister died, he was left on his own and he was unable to pay the bills and stopped paying his taxes.

He ignored all the letters he got in the mail from the IRS and finally they say a revenue agent came out to see Uncle Peanut and filed a lien on every thing he had. The day came for the moving trucks to take all of Peanut's possessions and he just sat on the front porch and gazed into one of his snow scene glass balls. The fellows from the IRS even took his porch swing so he moved over to the steps.

The next week his house was auctioned off by the IRS. The community banded together and all agreed not to bid but a few pennies on the house. When the bidding was over, the house had been bought by my cousin Ocie Pentecost for $1.48, and he thought that was too high. He paid the IRS man and then handed the deed back to my Uncle Peanut, and cousin Pentecost got a widow woman with three kids to move in with Uncle Peanut to care for him and keep his house clean.

He lived out his days going to work and paying his taxes and living his life gazing into that glass orb with the snow flakes and the winter scene. He died peacefully at age 67 and was buried with his favorite glass orb. It haddent snowed here in Cedar Grove for 20 yrs but that April day when Uncle Peanut was buried, it snowed hard for about 15 minutes as they lowered his coffin into the ground over at the New Liberty Church for Christ's Sake. Some at the service swear they heard his distinct squeal off in the distance as the snow was blowing around the cemetery,

but it was probably just in their imaginations. People like a good story.

Anyway, the Japanese people have been kicked in the head by a mule, and it looks like they will survive, just as Uncle Peanut. The human spirit is greatly underestimated. Godspeed to the Japanese, they are on a difficult path. We at the Urban Poverty Law Center wish them well.

We can house a few refugees if more space is needed, we took in about 200 of New Orleans' residents when Katrina came roaring through. Our doors are always open.

Jack Delano Maybolt, President Urban Poverty Law Center

"Pearl Harbor? Well, everybody is entitled to one mistake. How do you think this president got elected?" Mother Maybolt, 1921-2008

1. Mark Twain Autobiography

Urban Poverty Law Center Solves Wisconsin's Money Short Fall Overnight!

Honorable Governor Scott Walker

The Governor's Mansion

Madison, Wisconsin

Dear Governor Walker:

As senior fellow of finance at the Urban Poverty Law Center here in Cedar Grove, Tennessee

and probably the smartest fellow in my area of the county,(I have an IQ of 105!, fully 5 points above that of Rachel Maddow, and if I looked as good as her in a tight sweater, I would have a show on MSNBC, too)----but back to the point of the budgetary problem, to balance your state short fall, simply take expenditures and multiply each check the state writes and subtract the percentage over draft from each check. This way piggies feeding at Wisconsin's public trough contributes equally. Big piggies pay more than little piggies, but all piggies must pay!

My example is given below for your famous bus driver who retired at age 50 with an 80% of $189,000 yearly pension or roughly in my head .8 x 19 or $152,000, roughly twice what a pediatrician makes for all that tough 30 yrs he spent in and out of traffic!

Take his check 152,000 and multiply it by the deficit 3.6 billion / the budget total about 60 billion and you adjust down his retirement by the deficit. See below:

152,000 - 152,000(.060)= $142,880 a year after the deficit is reduced. This public employee has been taxed at a small 6% of his pension to balance your state budget. Sure he will have to tighten his belt a little, but all will get used to it. As the people who work for the state learn to save taxpayer monies, their salaries and retirement goes back to parity.

And what is in it for the public sector unions besides keeping 94% of their salaries and retirement benefits? Instead of shouting "kill the bill!", they can shout "give six for the fix!"

Now If you will kindly write a check to the Urban Poverty Law Center for 0.000000001% of the money I have saved your state or $3,600 for that advice, so I can pay my secretary's health and dental insurance this month. Her son Toby is getting braces on his horribly disjointed teeth and my rate went up again this month. Please send it to Jack Maybolt President Urban Poverty Law Center PO Box 13, Cedar Grove, Tn 38321

And don't forget to reduce that check by 6%!

Your budget shortfall advisor extraordinaire,

JD Maybolt

"Money, like pain is hard to appreciate until it is yours!" Mother Maybolt, 1929-2008

Urban Poverty Law Center On NPR's Duplicitous Nature

To a bigot a faggot should not be allowed to practice his sexuality.

To a redneck a black has no business dating or marrying a white.

To a rich man a poor boy must never date his daughter.

To a Jew an Arab is the lowest form of human life.

To an Arab a Jew is the lowest form of life.

To a Tea Party Member government is spending too much and has outgrown its usefulness.

To the government, taxpayers are best seen and not heard.

To NPR the Tea Party members are white racist gun toters who are really scary but the Muslim brotherhood with its 5 million dollar donation is all butterflies and cotton candy.

To an environmentalist capitalist are evil.

To a liberal conservatives are vile.

To a conservative liberals are mentally ill.

To an oil company environmentalist are ignorant.

To a dog cats are prey.

To a cat a mouse is prey.

To NPR white middle America is a xenophobic bigot.

To white middle America NPR is teats on a bore hog feeding voraciously at the public trough.

Bigotry is not just what's for supper in America.

Could someone please pass the discrimination and what happened to the soft bigotry of lowered expectations?

Can you hear me, fag, boy, Jew, redneck, Islamic extremist, teabagger, capitalist pigs, tree hugger, fly over citizenry, beltway twaddle, and NPR executives?

I am sure that the executives at NPR are doing their best work so the wrong kind of bigot never gains control because if they do, another Holocaust will ensue. Bless their hearts.

And someday all men will be judged, not the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.

Guilty.

Now pray for the salvation of your souls, you Christians anyway.

Jackson Delano Maybolt, President Urban Poverty Law Center, Member EEOC, Equal Employment Occupational Commission.

"Without discrimination the sheep would lie down with the lion. But the sheep would not get back up and the lion would get fat." Mother Maybolt, 1925-2008

Letters To and From a Son of A Bitch

Bellevue, Tn 37221

23 November 1987

Dear Dr. Weenie:

Enjoyed your reading me my letters so much thought I'd write you another one and still can't believe I have written you or anybody else that many letters.

My medical practice has picked up recently since Lulu got off all her meds but the lith. So has my footwork. She has recurring fits of boxing syndrome. I take most of these on the arms and shoulders but you never know when she may get lucky and strike the old nez or a peeper and I have given her so much sharp jewelry....

I tell her that my daddy always said if something was wrong water would fix it--dilute what ever it was in the system making it go haywire, drink lots of water. Then of course you are so busy taking a piss all the time you forget what it was that was bothering you.

I am suspecting my hart is not all it once was or else the script project has made it nervous or it might be the sulphites in this cheepo wine I drink--do they use sulphites to clarify the white wines too? These are the kinds of questions that set me quandaring of late as the old thing does the skip, then the WHUNK and then some little ones and then the pitty-pat, the pause, the WHUNK and frankly after abut 15 minutes of this I get so BORED that I YAWN and guess what, YAWNS cure the sucker.

Yawning and stretching are good? for the HART.

I've been seriously considering our prairie dog ranch since you mentioned that Doc Sambo Plumber had gotten him a PD plantation, and I think the PD can be made into something else besides a carrier of Bubonic Plague and a ruiner of hunting trails in the high plains. I think the PD might well someday replace the chicken. But first we have to get Doc Sambo to catch and fry some of them and experiment with the meat as did the Colonel, but think how many PD's you could raise on 71,776 acres; I'd guess at least a thousand PD's to the acre and then you'd need some MD's to de-plague them, maybe--oh, well, Mexicans could do that work.

I really did enjoy the antelope jerky. That antelope jerky was great. I dream daily and nitely about antelope jerky. Ain't no jerky jerks like pronghorn jerky. I did not want to deprive you and Dr. Dawn and The Great and the Conquerer as I hope you noticed I left a leetle bit of it there for you to ravenously devour.

But I have to get to the meat of this coconut by saying that Dr. Dawn stabbed me to the hart with her comment about murderers when we came in with that big dead dangerous female of the species pronghorn which had charged us, gored you, and trampled me--done this six times over and that final charge when all was lost the rifle got in her path and she tripped over it and it fired and she laid down and looked through the scope and DIED!

So what was our choice but to take her home for a decent skinning and butchering and to make some memorial jerky? NONE!

And Dr. Dawn calls us murderers?

The GALL!

The hutspha of that woman. But I never said nothing, did I, Son? I never said a thang. I jest taken it and her callen us murders when what that big old pronghorn bitch--did, did Dawn come out and look at the balls on that mother? NO!!!!! She just named me for a murdering skunk when all I done, Son, was I saved both our lives when she(the doe, not Dr. D.) tripped on that danged rifle. I did not KNOW it was even LOADED.

So like the Game Warden said, he said, "You got to take this old bitch home now she done killed herself, and I think he said cilled herseff, and you got to skin her and all and make the jerky and mess up the kitchen because that is the law when one of these old pests does herselfffffff innnnnnnnnn." He said in that lonnnnnng way the Wyo wardens sez hit.

Oh, well. Next year prepare the kitchen for our elks like porcupines with the arrows sticking out of them, they are big as mules and we will have enough elk burger to bore us until 1990.

I think we should arm our wives and take them along to back us up with elephant guns when those Elk charge us with our bows and arrows, those two big mombassa type wives with the guns only I wonder if maybe we should have steel plates on our backs and nice neck protector helmets if we do that as their AIM might not be all it should be, especially Lulu, who sometimes gets it all mixed up as when running a red lite.

There is a story about this about the short happy life of Mccomber, by an old drinking hunter whose name was Hemingway. You should read it. She shoots him on safari. It is a good story.

Please put me in the hunt(s). If check needed signal. I am serious about this stalking of the elk. Now I have defended myself against antelope I am ready to take on the next plateau.

The call from Anne Chenney will bear fruit. That book will make it into print and all we do afterwards will be only more valuable. So to cooperate with her is only to wax our own skiis. You always were the best, my favorite, I am sorry for the clothing you were constrained to wear as a child, but it is an IMPERFECT WORLD.

And I am you Old Grand Dad of your chirren---Always, OGD

7 March 2011

Dear Dad,

What in the world are you talking about? Perhaps your next missive will shed light on this.

your adoring son,

Jacky

Jack Maybolt, President Urban Poverty Law Center

Urban Poverty Law Center: Where The Tobacco Tax Windfall Blew

Just reading about our Benefactor In Chief, the honorable Horhey $oros, predicted to the BBC Iran's mullahs would fall in one of the bloodiest revolutions ever. He, SS $oros 1, goes on to say the oil wealth must be shared with the people. Hello? SS, are you listening? By sharing the wealth are you referring to the kind of sharing you helped the Nazis in sharing your neighbor's wealth back home during WW II? Still up to your old tricks I see?

The Iranian mullahs share with the people by subsidized oil, 28 cents a gallon for gasoline last year, maybe higher now that you have destabilized the currencies. The king of Saud just released 37 billion to his people to be gifts. Muammar is giving his people lead even as this is keyed. Mubarak is in his safe place, the fate of his fortune to be determined.

Your plan to destabilize the US dollar has necessarily caused revolution in the Middle East since they trade oil for these notes of $oros shrinking value and food inflation has caused its intended unrest. Brilliant, SS, brilliant! And who will be there to pick up the pieces of the broken regimes littered about the middle east like so many stray dogs at a Brazilian land fill site?

I'll bet you know who!

Mr. $oros, have you ever stopped to consider what will happen to you and yours if the wrong kind of people become the world's power brokers. I know you are an older gentleman who, perhaps, has only a few more campfires on which to piss upon, but the geopolitical world can change very quickly. Do you have a safe room?

What would you do if the Swiss bankers froze your accounts? You see you, Mubarak, Muammar, the Mullahs, and the King of Saudi Arabia are not that different. But they have or had riches and armies and a homeland, and you only have riches. Could your power also hang on the whims of a single Swiss Banking Board or a different secretive cabol?

Now to the meat of the treatise. During the ramp up to the Iraqi invasion Deux, I recall W saying in his great West Texas Drawl: "That Ol belongs to the Iraqi people!" Now, Saddam has had his neck stretched, and the new democracy in Iraq is pumping that ol out and the revenues are flowing to where? I wonder if the average Iraqi person is feeling his new gained wealth yet?

In the 1990's the Clintons shook down every successful business in America. The Big Evil Tobacco Tax, garnered from a legal enterprise whose only sin was to provide a product that was addicting and dangerous to your health and the tax was to reimburse the US Taxpayers for caring for all the lung disease in smokers. I am still waiting for my tax break. Microsoft was attacked for being successful and not contributing enough to the Clinton Machine and we had the bursting of the Tech bubble and many commoners lost thousands in their 401k plans.

Next our brilliant leaders set sight on housing and the bubble that ensued and burst, following this will be a currency bubble, and a food and oil commodity bubble and we have come full circle back to old SS $oros. The bubbles must repeat themselves.

commodities

housing

technology

energy

gold and silver (currencies)

tobacco

despots

insurance

agriculture

health care

oil and gas

carbon trades

oxygen trades

water trades

sunlight trades

reproductive trades

The last 5 on the list are on the drawing boards of the Won World Governance Committee.

How can there be one government if the middle east is controlled by despots? Hence the unrest. It is becoming as clear as a glass barrel of North Sea Brent Crude oil to me.

Do not bet on the status quo in the Middle East. We are next. Batten down the hatches.

Stock up on food, clothing and shelter items while you still can. The Won World New Worlders have started their take over. Heaven help us!

Castro Bros, and Hugo make your best deals now. Waiting for a better hand is stupid. Mr. Kim, keep close to China's armpit, maybe you will be safe there. SS, we live in interesting times. I will go feed the chickens and wait for my check to shut me down. If you will make out a check for $12,987.57 to the Urban Poverty Law Center I will not ever mention you again in this blog.

This will pay for my secretary's yearly salary with benefits.

Jackson Delano Maybolt

President, Urban Poverty Law Center

"Success is in the eye of the beholder." Mother Maybolt, 1925-2008

1. Mr. $oros is said have been a Waffen SS collaborator beginning at age 14 during WWII. He was said to be with the acquisition of other peoples property division. Good training for a hedge fund manager! jm

Urban Poverty Law Center Invites Gaddafi To Start Anew

Dear Colonel Muammar Gaddafi:

I have been reading about your trifles with great interest. I have not decided when you became unfit for leadership of your North African nation, but some one who is much smarter than I has decided you must go. It came as a great surprise to me.

Our esteemed President Barak Obama has called for you to voluntarily step down so the next despot can take your place. He must think you have gone soft with all that tent living and the luscious female body guards. I, as president of the Urban Poverty Law Center, will not make such a brazen and foolish call on you who I barely know. I have followed your career through out the past 30 years and find that we are not so different, you and I.

When you were an ambitious 27 yr old military man overthrowing a corrupt government , I was an invalid at 27 having been crippled by a run away John Deere manure spreader. You were leading a third world oil producing nation out of poverty, when I founded the Urban Poverty Law Center. You were interested in making life better for all middle easterners while I struggled to make life better here in our nation's city slums for our poor inner city brothers and sisters.

At one point you embraced terrorism as an means to an end, and I have thought perhaps I need some of this here to draw attention to our blighted cities and their unfortunate inhabitants. You had the balls to pursue your dream, and mine were taken by Mr. J Deere.

We are about the same age. As mayor of Cedar Grove, Tennessee I can offer you sanctuary and a place to throw your tent and we will see to it that you have everything you need for your horses and camels and your entourage. I will ask that you take a vow of non violence and promise not to shoot me if I ever anger you in any of our dealings. I could make you dictator of Cedar Grove, but the pay would be negligible. I hope you can still get some of your billions out of the Swiss Banks.

I read where the bankers over there have decided to keep you from your deposits. My cousin is an attorney and she has agreed to sue them for you if you wish. Just where do these bankers get the impression they can keep you from your money. If I was your banker I would be afraid a fellow such as yourself could make life interesting for twits like us. Did they do the same to Mubarak? Anyway I am glad I do not have a Swiss bank account.

If you want to take our offer of amnesty please call my secretary, Susan Blunderdoss, and we can make it happen.

Sincerely,

Jack D. Maybolt, President Urban Poverty Law Center
Mayor, Cedar Grove, TN

"Somethings should be whispered, while other things can be shouted, but I would not say that at all!" Mother Maybolt, 1922-2008

Urban Poverty Law Center Blows Lid Off US Fiscal Policy

Blogosphereons:

As the chief financial officer of the Urban Poverty Law Center, and as one who has no formal education or background in business except for my brief lesson in capitalism garnered from our grandfather who set us up to sell hot dogs and cokes at the annual Strawberry Festival when we were children. He bought the ice, cokes, drinks, dogs, buns, condiments, cups, and we hawked colas and dogs for two days and would pull in about $200 after his expenses, and my brother and I would wonder what ever we could do with all that money in 1960 small town America. Of course we paid income taxes on our windfall.

With that training I am going to explain the Fed Reserves policy of monetizing the debt.

Money is good, OK. Through all of time men and women have sought the perfect money. Salt was used to pay Roman soldiers as it was a valuable commodity, and could be split and measured and was portable. A man worth his salt is good. Salt had some draw backs as it would dissolve in water and could spill out and looks a lot like sugar. So someone in days gone by thought of silver and gold and coins. More durable, portable and great way to store value.

There were many other things tried, cows, goats, chickens, slaves, but with anything alive, it had a shelf-life and so its value could not be reliably counted upon year after year. Back to gold and silver. Both metals are almost permanent. Silver will tarnish/ oxidize slowly and gold is inert.

Well the bankers liked gold until someone owned enough that it was hard to carry around so they got the idea that paper could represent the gold in the vault. Good as gold. Yeah!

Then our government and others thought the gold was a hindrance to printing more money and it was abandoned for fiat money in 1971 by Richard Nixon. Fiat money only has value if people think it has value. It has nothing backing it except the full faith and backing of the United States Government.

Gold was about 35 dollars an ounce in 1971. Forty years later it is pushing $1500 per ounce and I believe is under priced in dollars.

In just over two years in office, Barak Obama has spent $5 trillion deficit dollars on goods and services at today's prices. Good move! These goods and services he bought now will necessarily be much higher next year and the year after when the inflation caused from too many dollars chasing limited products kicks into gear.

For people who have been saving for retirement, the nest egg is going to shrink. My great aunt was left a widow when her husband was killed and in 1968 her estate was worth about half million dollars. That would have bought 15,000 ounces of gold in 1971.

Today her gold would be worth 22.5 million dollars. As it turned out my rich great aunt was robbed by inflation and left my mother an estate worth about $150,000 in 1981 when she died. Auntie was a product of the Depression and did not want investments. Kept all her assets in certificates of deposit at the bank. She was never poor, but with some foresight she could have preserved her wealth.

If, for every loser there is a winner, who are the winners? Maybe the debtors are the winners.
They will be able to pay off debts with inflated dollars. By example, let us say I buy a farm for $1,000 per acre. It is a modest farm of say 100 acres, of which 75 acres is tillable ground. I rent this farm out to my farmer pal who plants cotton and the first year I make $125 per acre my share on the crop when cotton was selling for $.59/pound. Now with inflation cotton is pushing $2.00/pound and if this price holds I may make $400/acre for my share on the farm. I Owe the bank $75,000 for the farm and will be paying him back with cheap dollars. As the debtor, I win. The banker made the loan at 4.8% interest betting inflation would be minimal.
Oops.

Now we all are aware that Uncle Sam, the US government is a large debtor having to raise the debt limit to over 15 trillion dollars soon to keep the business of government running. Will inflation help the government? Maybe.

If you have dollars, spend them before they are worthless. Nobody can get a loan now because bankers are hesitant to put any of that precious money out for fear of getting the inflated dollars back. It is a part of their business risk. This is the start of a money bubble.

Relax, we will all live through this. Now where is my check book?

Jackson Delano Maybolt, PhD
CFO Urban Poverty Law Center


"Money, girls don't need any money. Why they are sitting on goldmines!"
Mother Maybolt, 1928-2008