Why daddy?

Why daddy?

Daddy, why do heroes go away?

Don’t they miss us every day?

Don’t they want to be with us?

Won’t you tell them we won’t fuss?

Daddy, why’d they go?
Have we made them fly so high,

Tearing across the open sky?

Did we chase them far from home?

Do they wish to be alone?

Oh daddy,  why’d they go?
What’s makes them trek so far afield

Become themselves our metal shield

How can they stay away so long

Can’t they hear our lonely song?

Please tell me, daddy, why’d they go?
How long they sail on open sea

Far, so far away from me.

Can’t they journey home at last?

Be with us to break our fast.

Tell me please, daddy, you must know.
Tell me why they fly so high

And why they trek so far.

Please bring them safely sailing by

Please bring them back from war.

Oh daddy, why’d you go?

Son

Son

I’ve been working on a different chapter lately.  I remembered some things about Papasan I had forgotten and more too.  This seemed a good time to sample it out…comments are always welcome when you read my stuff, especially where it concerns my memoirs.  I want them to read well, so please, comment away…criticism is how we learn to write better.  We learn that or we write terrible forever…bleah!!!

“You hack.  You no carve, you hack, Shawty.  Not should cut hard.”  Papasan pointed to his head and continued, “See what you makin in heah, den carve.  Not hack, hack, hack.  Hack look like shit”, using one of the American cuss words he was proud to have learned with a, pardon the redundancy, shit-eating, toothless grin on his kisser.

I laughed and responded, “Oh,  Papasan,  it don’t matter.  I’m just killin time here.  I don’t expect it to look like anything,  it’s a stick.”

“It stick before you hack it.  Shoo be sometin ess affah, or you no touch.  What you tink,  Shawty?”

“I tink you’re pulling my leg, Papasan.” I returned with a smile.

Son, Papasan, was always joking with us “dinky dao GIs”.  He was the head of the household of local Vietnamese civilians who took care of our domestic needs.  Well, he joked with us as long as we kept our distance from his daughters.  We all received the same greeting from Papasan when first we came to the 34th, “you no touch girls, less you want to wake wit no man”.  Spoken with that red-lipped toothless smile, holding his nasty looking, hooked carving knife for all to see, while slicing the end off a banana.  You got the message, and trust me, the way that sneaky little guy could come up behind you and be nearly in your pockets before you knew he was there, nobody gave his daughters a second thought.  Besides, we all understood the taboos these people’s lived with.  Your entire family would be scourged if your daughter was caught alone with an American, permission given or not, and permission was almost never given.  I was proud to say that my Platoon mates and I were all good men.  None of us ever tried to take advantage and even without Papasan’s warning, we wouldn’t have.  I’ve always considered myself extremely lucky to have ended up with the “salt-of-the-earth” Americans that made up the 34th Patrol Dog Platoon.  These guys were the best of every world and I was their mate.

Son’s family consisted of he and his wife, we called her Mamasan as we never heard her name, three daughters, two daughters-in-law and four grandchildren, three girls and a boy, Hong.  The other men in the family,  three sons and two sons-in-law were all fighting on the Cambodian border with the ARVN 25TH Division.  This was a family hugely divided.  Not only were all the men from this local family branch away fighting in the war, the majority of Son’s family lived north of the 17th parallel, the DMZ, in North Vietnam.  Many of those had served or were serving, men and women, in the NVA.  Things were at the lowest for them during the TET offensive of ’68.  Eight members of the northern clan died in the fighting.  Another seven were seriously injured.  The southern clan went unscathed physically except for minor injuries, but what they experienced taking Hue back from the VC, scarred them mentally forever.

Papasan bemoaned the evil being done to his family and country and blamed everyone from the north to the south, the French and we Americans of course;  but mostly he was pissed off at the whole world for letting it go on so long and so needlessly.  To Papasan,  who cared who ran the show, as long as it ran.  He declared to me one dismal day that the world would suffer greatly and for many years because of its ignorance towards Vietnam.  Hocus pocus?  Let me ask you this, where are we right now as far as world peace and prosperity?  Just sayin…

After spending several days on shit-burning detail with Papasan as punishment meted out for insubordination by our CO, I got to know the old man a little.  In a very short time, I went from thinking, “I’m stuck with this useless old man burning shit because it’s all the CO thinks we’re capable of” to, “This old man has more on the ball than the entire chain of command and all us super-duper-American-soldiers too, and maybe that’s really why the CO stuck me with Papasan.”

Regardless, it worked. Papasan rekindled in me the ethics lessons my working class parents taught me.  Loud and clear I eventually heard the message, “hard work pays dividends.”  In Son’s world, there were simple things that brought him great joy.  That was all he needed and all he had to do to achieve that goal was burn shit twice a day, 5 days a week.  We burned our own on weekends.  There was always someone on the Lt’s shit(burning) list…ha!  Anyway, Son was in heaven.  His family was safe and lived like kings, relative to those who did not work for the GIs and even though the men were away, they were all extremely happy people.  Yet they still lived, all 11 of them, in what the poorest American would call a hovel.  God only knows what they did when the men came home.  There was one not terribly huge room, with walls made of scavenged or pilfered US materials, rejected plywood and 2x4s, windows and doors were just openings in the wood walls, and a combination corrugated steel/thatch roof with a hole in the centre for the cook-smoke to escape.  There were flaps to cover the holes during monsoon.  They could prop the roof flap open enough to let the smoke out without letting the rain in.  Their cooking fire was usually a wood fire, though Papasan said they occasionally had coke to burn.  At least I think that’s what he meant.  He showed me a fist-sized rock and said  “black, make mark on groun you rub. Burn too…lon tine”.  They ate whatever fish they could catch from the Song Dong Nai that ran through and around Bien Hoa Ville, the chickens they kept and their eggs, and what rice they grew in their community paddy.  We supplemented their supplies but they didn’t like our food much.  They took tea bags and instant tea mix, rice, chocolate and cigarettes happily, though they couldn’t figure out what we did to our rice to make it so tasteless???  Who knew rice had a taste?  We also paid the family $5 a month each in Military Payroll Currency (MPC…script), for the domestic work they did around the company area. They did laundry mostly, but also housekeeping, grounds work, helping around the kennel (when the dogs were away) and of course Papasan was our sanitation engineer.  For this sum, they lived well above the average peasant’s standard of living.

I shared my mother’s brownies with Papasan once. He begged me to ask her for a box just for him.  I did and she complied, adding two dozen of her signature chocolate chip cookies.   I was their hero for weeks.  They actually invited me to break bread with them for dinner one day.  This is not a normal thing for a Vietnamese family to do with your average GI.  I brought my CO with me to be sure there were no improprieties, I am an idiot after all.  As the guest of honour, I was given the head of the chicken.   I can’t be sure, but I think Papasan was pulling my leg again, because when I came back inside from running outside to heave up what was left of my lunch, the chicken head was gone, everyone was chowing down and no one said a word about it.  Either that or LT took care of it??? Damn!  Idiot!

I found myself gravitating to the back of the latrine whenever I was down.  My hanging out with Papasan was a kind of escape really.  No one went to the back of the latrine but him or the poor slobs who had the duty on the weekends or anyone on punishment, so it was just him and I.  After I gave up on hacking, we just enjoyed the quiet together.  His serenity gave me peace, for a minute anyway.  He carved, hummed and smoked that crazy long ivory pipe with the strongest smelling tobacco I ever smelled, and, no, it wasn’t pot.  You may wonder about the smell from the latrine.  Bien Hoa (and Vietnam in general) had very predictable weather patterns.  The Airstrip on the US air base on Bien Hoa ran north to south for a reason; the wind almost always blew north to south.  With the airstrip running that direction, the aircraft, usually well overloaded, by taking off into it could use the wind to help generate the lift needed to get off the ground.  Now, whoever built out latrine had been around awhile and must have learned from the Air Force’s example because he built the latrine so that the poor bastard that was burning the stuff didn’t absolutely have to breathe it too.  Most of the time it was blowing south and the back of the latrine was on the north side of the building.  If it was blowing any the other way, you moved to the side of the building rather quickly, ahem.

Son was terrified of our dogs and made no bones about it.  He’d had incidents before with k9s getting too close.  Once was with me and Prince the first time Hong got loose and was grappling with Prince’s slimy tongue, laughing with the kind of glee you only hear in a kids laugh.  Holy shit did Papasan go through the roof.  I thought Prince was going to go ballistic.  I’m sure he could feel papasan’s angst and that makes dogs nervous.  I had to leash him to control him.  After that, whenever a Handler brought his partner too close to Son or any of his family when Son was around, especially the grandkids, he went nuts.  The carving knife came out and he moved into a perfect fighting crouch, ready for the worst.  Most of our furry partners, of course, are looking at him and I’m sure, thinking, “Does he have treats?”  It took most of the entire time I was in-country to get him to let me approach with Prince and that only after he again stumbled on his four-year-old grandson this time rolling around on top of Prince without being eaten.  After he settled down, that is to say, once he was done berating me, my parents, America, the daughter who was watching young Hong, and anyone else in a hundred mile radius; he sucked it up, grabbed Hong off of Prince’s belly, teeth and knife in play the whole time, handed him off to his daughter and chased them off. Then, not to be outdone by his grandson, he deliberately walked up to Prince, who was by now a bit miffed at the old man’s behaviour and had his teeth bared, (I think by now Prince had full recall of their last meeting).  Son then said something in Vietnamese that made Prince turn his head the way dogs do, he calmed immediately, then Son patted him once on the head, turned to me and said, “Nevah gain, Shawty, nevah!”  That was the only time Son made contact with any of our partners.  It was not, however, the last time for Hong.  He had a knack for losing his watchdog and always ended up in the kennels.  No worries for little Hong, our dogs all loved the little rascal, but if sure set Papasan off.

The last time Son and I Spoke was a very sobering experience.  Son’s oldest son came home to recover from battle wounds and told his dad a very different story from what was being said in the news.  Because we Americans were backing out, the south could no longer say they were winning.  In fact, they were starting to lose.  It was just a matter of time before the Americans would all be gone and then after the south ran out of everything, the north would sweep down and destroy the south and her people.

When I went to visit with him later that day,  he was a very different man.  He hardly said a word and kept giving me what I can only describe as the “evil eye”.  After pressing him for an explanation,  he angrily said,  “You will go home to America soon.  Then we will die”.  Shaking his head and with a tear in his eye he turned away from me and said, “Why?”  He never looked back and never said another word to or for that matter acknowledged me or any of us.

Two weeks later, with more grief in my heart than hope, I fucked up for the last time and was injured bad enough for the Army to give up on me and send me home.  I still dream about Son, Hong and the rest.  I still wonder, what if.

RIP Son.  I hope you found your serenity again after we left…somehow I can’t imagine that and I cry.

Fidel killed lots of innocent people, so lets honor him American Press.

Fidel killed lots of innocent people, so lets honor him American Press.

The only article I’ve read today that tells the truth about Fidel is from, USA Today????  What?

https://a.msn.com/r/2/AAkMTfW?m=en-us

Regardless, Fidel was a brutal dictator who spat in our faces as often as we let him.  I do not wish anyone ill, well, the Ayatollahs can go to hell, but most folks are inherently okay. Fidel, on the other hand, is gone and that’s a good thing.  Raul may be a quieter version but I don’t think either brother was ever going to be our idea of “good men”.  We’ll see.

While I am cautious about gripping hands with the Castros, I have some concern that President-elect Trump will push too hard and we’ll lose what gains we’ve made in normalising relations with Cuba.  IMO, it matters not what you or I think about Raul or Cuba in general, It makes no sense having a neighbour ready to cut our throat at the drop of a hat.  We need to be good neighbours, all of us in this hemisphere.  The assault from other parts of the world is real and we need to stand united.  With hostile attitudes towards each other, who will stop the flow of illegals in and out of anywhere?  Today, a good number of these illegals are coming here to do harm, nothing more.  That’s reality.

We don’t need Sanctuary cities, they just get our children murdered in broad daylight for the entire world to view.  We don’t need to coddle the middle eastern “death to the west” legions, they just want us in servitude to them or dead…there are no options with them…NONE.  We don’t need secession because we didn’t get our way. We need to stand together as we always have, even in spite of the vast oceans of difference that exists between your vision and mine.

If we can somehow, change our viewpoint toward each other internally, here at home in the USA, then we can do the same in this hemisphere and across the globe.  We can do it without giving up the farm too as Obama or Clinton would have done.  Everyone wants to survive.  So, let’s show them how, and prosper at the same time…you know, the American Way.

This is the USA. We can do anything.  Let’s!

Calexit or Calwaitafreakinminute and count your pennies?

“Calexit”, the response to reasonable Americans voting against the demands of a few spoiled brats, not wishes, mind you, demands.  Spurred on by two central valley libs, they now have some 16+k signatories.  There are two points of interest just to begin.  1) There are 39 million Californians; most won’t give up a single lunch, let alone all the stuff they receive from our dear old Uncle Sam.  2) The two founders of this secessionist drive are from the mostly conservative central valley and not one of the mush-brain factory college cities.  One claimed to be republican but voted for Clinton.  I claimed, in response to that, “BULLSHIT“!  I’m guessing they couldn’t afford to live in the cities they came from and ended up commuters.

If there are any who wonder, “can this happen?“, or, wish it would; this, or efforts like this one, have failed gloriously in the past.  A Silly Valley bigwig suggested making 6 states from the one back in 2009.  This effort was laughed off the ballot.  There also has been a push for the State of Jefferson since I can remember, driven by residents of California’s central valley, northern Californians and southern Oregonians who most certainly are NOT represented in liberal Sacramento or insane Portlandia (too bad we don’t have electoral colleges for the states, eh?).  In the end,  the cost to secede overwhelms all.

It’s estimated we Californians receive some $275 billion from Uncle Sam annually.  Divide that by 39 million.  I’m  sure you, the average Californian, have that sum hanging around just in case Jerry or Garvin might need it to start up a new country, right?  I have a few additional questions, too.  Who builds up a military for us and who pays for it?  Or do we just sit back and wait for Mexico to take over?  Who’s fixing the roads then?  What about Social Security, Medicare, food stamps, etc.?  Where do we get the money uncle is going to demand in refunds for all the infrastructure built on federal funding?  Sure as heck we can’t borrow it from the high-speed train to nowhere fund, can we?    There ain’t nothin there!  And let’s not forget, who the heck do you think is paying for those free iPhones and Tablets?  It ain’t Jerry-fekkin-Brown my friend.  I could go on forever.  Suffice it to say,  secession is NOT happening…likely, not ever.

So, what is all this about?  The usual, I would guess.  A bunch of spoiled brats don’t want to accept that their team lost, so they push back in the only way they know.  They do nothing and things that amount to nothing because that is what their parent’s example taught them.  These are not “normal” Californians or Americans but the byproduct of the hippie movement and some angry inner city folks.  They must be our very own useless idiots chasing a cause because they can.  Otherwise, to spend days, months even years on such unattainable goals is surely indicative of mental illness.  Funny how most of their hippie parents, in fact, ended up as integral parts of the very establishment they purportedly were against back in the 60’s, without ever effecting any change at all, except that they became the “new guard”.  Now, their children are burning down cities, stopping traffic causing an ambulance passenger to die, and killing cops.   I’m not sure who the joke is on with that one, but, I digress anyway.

Regardless,  California is going nowhere.  We are as much America as Massachusetts and the Carolinas.  The greatest president in recent history came from here.  We are still one of the largest economic engines in the world, outperforming hundreds of entire nations (…not forgetting our status as a great economic power; still, we could never afford the initial costs of secession).  Besides, until I give my approval, “Them dang idgits can go fish! Yessuh!”  Calexit my hiney!

California will comply as usual as soon as those few boisterous idiots finish pissing their pants.  Calexit is one idiot’s dream, the rioting and violence are another altogether.  I really wish mommy and daddy would put their foot down.  If your children happen to fit the mould, and you know if they do, stop paying for their education and make them earn it, even just one lousy semester.  This is our problem, IMO.  Some of our children don’t know the cost of life.  They will continue to fuck it up until they do.  You can’t spank them anymore, so charge them.  This will also eliminate a large pool of mush-brains for the bloodsuckers in society to prey on like the two yahoos in Central Valley and greatly reduce the period of mush-brainedness for most.  Work does that.

In the meantime, more useless idiot’s like the one from a local, freelance editorial group called, wait for it…”The Watchdog”, are continuing to rake Trump and his millions of supporters, the Electoral Majority (thank God), over the coals.  Thomas Peele is his name.  He has a twitter thingy, check it out. His pic will scare the piss out of you too. Mr Peele had absolutely nothing good to say about us deplorable ones.

Here’s an example of what passes as reporting today.  The story was actually about how Trump once liked a reporter…then became, well, Trump, I guess, and that’s just a terrible thing, you see.  The story immediately showed it’s true colours of hatred and denial by bashing Trump and all supporters first, then telling the actual story about Trump and the reporter.  This is an excerpt from the HEADLINE editorial of the East Bay Times:

Trump got elected on fake news, his cudgel-like tweets, truth be damned, and on the backs of xenophobic, alt-right white supremacists, who think news is what they politically believe.  All else?  Lies!

So,  obviously I missed the part when we became xenophobes instead of misogynists, (and whatever happened to just plain deplorable?) but that’s not the important thing here, it’s it?  No, certainly what we need to beware of is allowing gasbags like Peele from having any more influence on the neo-mush-brained (of which we have an excessive amount here in Cali) than an occasional fill-in role for a real reporter, and limit that as much as possible.  This guy is not only pissed off and very disrespectfully displaying it,  he’s a damn loon.  Sadly,  I can easily compare this pissed-off-white-guy to many more folks, in varying flavours, just like him, and they all want their 15 seconds right now.  To these folks,  there is no alternative to their vision.

I think the biggest surprise for me has been the left’s propensity to believe theirs is the only legitimate thought process.  That everyone else is wrong.  More than that, and most damaging to them, they believed that those they believe to be “wrong”, are also in the minority by a huge amount.  That it was the left’s destiny to lead us forward.  They are still stuck on this belief and like this dolt, Thomas Peele, will continue to hack at us with hatred until we hack him and those like him off at the knees.  Free speech is free speech and should never be suppressed.  Speaking or writing hate is a crime against humanity and shouldn’t be tolerated from anyone.  I could go on about “what’s good for the goose”…etc., but I feel it would fall on deaf ears.

What’s the real solution?  Simple, don’t publish stupid hateful shit.  Come on, now!

NOTE TO THE LOCAL NEWS OUTLETS: You wouldn’t publish my rants as leading editorials would you?  In fact, you don’t publish me anymore at all and I don’t really expect you to publish this one either. So, why publish that trash?  East Bay Times, I’m calling you out. Stop instigating and enriching this anarchist environment.  Stop publishing this HATE!  In doing so you become the enemy of a free state, yourself, by advocating the squelching of half the population’s free speech.  If you instigate anarchy, you will die by it.  There is no free press in a war zone, fools.

The following is the emoticon I chose for how I feel about all this!

cXd-101_thumb.jpg

So Grey

Connemara Nat'l Park, Ireland

It’s so grey.

I had to feel that way.

What started out okay

Quickly decayed

Into mundane, and, I’m afraid,

A time for marmalade.

 

To the kitchen, I ran.

Fast as a cheetah can.

Not being the only fan

Of said confection handy,

I suckered them with Brandy,

And behaved just like a dandy.

 

I took that sweetness, yes,

To that, I do confess.

But that was not the only mess

I left without a moment’s quest.

Why not pretend it was a guest?

The boss, my dearest, was still at rest.

 

Ah, but fate is not my friend.

As it was clear in the end.

That she, my darling, can attend

To the household’s needs regardless the bends

And twists of life and how it blends

Her in and out of those needed REMs.

 

Wouldn’t you know, just as I thought,

This is it, oh yeah, my freedom is bought.

Who should appear all hot to trot,

Directly athwart my path to the trough,

Was my darling, herself, looking quite rough

Saying,  “you’re dead in 3 steps, my love”.

 

About face, forward march, I sadly returned

To the very place, I had just burned.

Bad luck not finished yet, as I soon learned,

Those pesky guests, moods having taken a turn,

Were back with a vengeance, hungry and stern,

Saying, “give it up or we’ll stuff you in this urn”.

 

Just a little marmalade

Should have been an escapade.

One to remember and masquerade

As if it turned out the very way

I wanted to be able to say,

But, instead, it’s just so grey.

Trump aide: No plan to pursue charges against Clinton – CNNPolitics.com

Trump aide: No plan to pursue charges against Clinton – CNNPolitics.com

via Trump aide: No plan to pursue charges against Clinton – CNNPolitics.com

I don’t suppose there is a good take to this.  This is much like telling me I can keep my insurance if I want to and then not following through.  I absolutely believe there is just cause for bringing charges.  Perhaps Trump’s cabinet will do it, keeping his hands clean, so to speak?  Hmmmmm.  Another take on this is that the man is human.  Who didn’t see those pics of Hillary lately?  The ones where she looks like she could be on death’s bed?  I know I felt a moment’s compassion for her.  Just a moment , but Mr Trump may be way more forgiving than I.  Food for thought…

There certainly is a lot more on his plate than any transgressions by Hillary or Obama to tie his time up with, just dealing with them, but justice must be served.  There simply has to be another avenue…I hope (and I dare say many of you do too).  I don’t so much care if she goes to jail as I do want the facts clarified for all to see and systems in place to prevent a repeat of what happened, say, in Benghazi.  That NO ONE ever again uses a personal device for government business…EVER.  That NO ONE delete’s government emails…EVER.  That NO ONE ever has the opportunity to run with a “pay to play” deal the likes of which we know of today regarding Hillary Clinton’s dealings vis-a-vis the Clinton Foundation.

I’m still willing to give Trump a chance despite this setback.  He has a hell of a 100-day schedule set for himself, so let’s see how he handles that.  If he drains the swamp, saves us from disastrous trade and climate deals, rebuilds the military and our pride, fixes or repeals the ACA, AND manages to leave SS and Medicare alone, we’ll be ages ahead of where we are right now.

For sure we will NOT have what could have been up to three more socialists on SCOTUS. We will NOT have eight years of disastrous policies followed by four more of the same. Perhaps most important of all, we will start to grow a pair again and stop taking a back seat to, and a lot of guff from Russia and/or China.

Rejoice!  A new day arises no matter what happens to the Hillary, Obama and the rest. They will soon be unemployed and out of the governing business for a while.  There’s reason enough right there for a party…

Don’t cry for me, Democracy

Among the myriad of American Democrats calling for anarchy and violence against Trump and the rest of us deplorables,  you’ll find a few jewels of traditional patriotism (tongue couldn’t be more in-cheek right now…criminy).

My old buddy,  Leonard Pitts is leading the way.

It’s time for the country to heal, time for us to come together.  Or so people have been telling me since democracy laid the biggest egg in American history.  Well,  here is my response: I have no interest in seeing this country heal. And,  I refuse to come together.

The article goes on for about 2000 words.  Not one a good one.  There is no “give” in his rhetoric that I can see.  There is zero tolerance in it.  There is zero willingness to compromise.  There is mention of a republican obstructionist movement after they laid the honest-to-God single most rotten egg in American history by selecting a community organizer for president, twice.  Who,  coincidentally raised the deficit by a factor of 2, destroyed the health insurance industry,  perhaps for good, caused the highest spike in anti-police crime in history and has done NOT A THING to stop it, pitted American against American, the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the Civil War and again has done EXACTLY NOTHING to stop it, worse yet,  he has, through his ridiculous cabinet choices, destroyed our reputation across the globe.  We are the daily laughing stock of peoples and governments around the world.

i remember being scourged because I refused to accept that Obama was anything more than a fake.  I was right then,  AND I still went back to work the next day.  I continued to pay my taxes (fair or not).  I continued to vote in every election,  small or large.  All I see from the left today is,  crybaby baloney, excuses for doing nothing or rioting, violence and destruction, and threats of more from the highest offices in the land to the lowest of sewer dwelling menaces of the Democrat enforcement society,  otherwise known as illegal immigrants and criminals.  You know,  Killary’s associates. 

Meanwhile,  the Donald is quietly lining up his team.  The dems and their media drones insist there is infighting…ho-hum,  they have obviously come to the bottom of their ammo cans.  His first day in office will be a busy one.  It’s a big dang swamp.  There are all sorts of nasty critters in there that’ll need to be rooted out,  you know

There will also be some legislature on his desk waiting for signature. REINS (Regulations from the Executice in Need of Scrutiny Act) is one.  This will be the beginning of returning to the legislative branch of government that which has been taken away from it by the executive branch,  some would say,  illegally.  What that means in the end,  it’s that the people will have a say again in all things government.  It will sharply slow the growth of regulations that are suffocating economic growth.  If will also cause Congress to vote on all major regulations,  those with an annual impact of more than $100 million.

A another key project he should sign off on right away is the Keystone XL Pipeline.  Not only will this create jobs,  it will also be SAFER than any other oil transpotation method.  Trains come to mind and OH MY GOD,  we can’t use trains!!!  Come on.  Do you think Canada is just going to forget about it and not produce or transport it?
Read this: All this noise is just that,  noise.  There are over 2 million miles of natural gas pipeline and over 175,000 miles of pipeline carrying various types of hazardous liquids including oil already in place here in the USA.  America’s left and her President just spent 8 years pondering the impact of a mere 1200 more miles, as if THAT was a monumental exercise of environmental stewardship.  Erm, WTF, OVER?  Obama and the EPA just blew 8 years of bullshit up your skirts, and you want more?

There is someone named,  Zach, a DNC staffer, who got his 15 seconds by proclaiming his destruction at the hands of all us old people in big bright “I’m-a-stupidly-liberal-drone-moron” letters for the world’s to see.  And this rant was directed at Donna Brazile, the DNC chair. 

You and your friends will die of old age,  and I’m going to die from climate change.  You and your friends let this happen, which is going to take 40 years off my life expectancy.

This fucking  monumental display of insanity was national news.  Honestly,  can this stuff get any deeper before we are drowning in STUPID?  The party of science my ass. The poluters I worry about are these idiot’s fouling my air with their declarations of ” watch me be an infantile and safe-spacey ditz”.  If these folks grow up to lead us,  we are well and truly fucked.  That is of course providing they grow up at all.  Then there’s the other side…the anarchists. Oh,  don’t get me started…