Monthly Archives: May 2016

LIONEL PODCAST: Americans Hate the Truth As They’ve Never Known It

Class, what do we do when we’re presented with something that doesn’t jibe or comport with our limited and heavily-propagandized worldview of history and current events? That’s right we cover our heads and scream “CONSPIRACY THEORY!”

The neocons provide the feeder system for military cemeteries and Memorial Day grief. Too many tragic military deaths occurred in theaters and battlefields and conflicts that never threatened our freedom or flag. Death does not justify or elevate imperialism and globalist asset-stripping to the noble pursuit. Say no to war, honor those who’ve served and redirect you attention to what patriotism actually connotes.

All American war is noble and to be encouraged, applauded and celebrated without question. As we speak some very despicable but brilliant folks are carefully writing the back story of our next military adventure – how it threatens our freedom and is sourced in a hatred for our American way of life. Or something. The theme really isn’t important, your perfervid acceptance as fact is. Count on the theater being Africa. The story will contain graphic depictions of bloodthirsty foreign types with names you can’t pronounce. The scripts will be distributed to the American mainstream media who will dutifully repeat and not report the threats and horrors as specifically written. And it’s off to fighting we go. And, again, you will have questioned nothing.

The lithographic print above is one of the earliest forms of WWI propaganda usage in the United States in 1917. The print was called “Destroy This Mad Brute – Enlist,” designed by H.R. Hopps and printed by Carlisle & Co. It has a dribbling, mustachioed ape wielding a club bearing the German word “kultur,” wearing a pickelhaube helmet with the word “militarism” and is walking onto the shore of America while holding a half-naked woman in his grasp (possibly meant to depict Liberty).


LIONEL PODCAST: Our Counterfeit, Manufactured, Imaginary and Synthetic American Propaganda Yarn Disguised as History

Tertius gaudens. Motive. Explication. The concept and doctrine (translated as rejoicing third in English) refers to a situation in which one party benefits from a conflict among two others. The term is often attributed to the German sociologist Georg Simmel and is provided by some enlightened historians as a motivation of sorts of the “provocation” of Pearl Harbor. It’s a patented protocol of inciting and inviting dissent and battle. (Perhaps for another time.)

Was Hiroshima necessary? Imagine even asking the question. Of course it was, hat’s what we were told. But was it? What did Eisenhower think? (Not exactly a shrinking violet and pacifist in his own right.)

“…in [July] 1945… Secretary of War Stimson, visiting my headquarters in Germany, informed me that our government was preparing to drop an atomic bomb on Japan. I was one of those who felt that there were a number of cogent reasons to question the wisdom of such an act. …the Secretary, upon giving me the news of the successful bomb test in New Mexico, and of the plan for using it, asked for my reaction, apparently expecting a vigorous assent.

“During his recitation of the relevant facts, I had been conscious of a feeling of depression and so I voiced to him my grave misgivings, first on the basis of my belief that Japan was already defeated and that dropping the bomb was completely unnecessary, and secondly because I thought that our country should avoid shocking world opinion by the use of a weapon whose employment was, I thought, no longer mandatory as a measure to save American lives. It was my belief that Japan was, at that very moment, seeking some way to surrender with a minimum loss of ‘face’. The Secretary was deeply perturbed by my attitude…”

– Dwight Eisenhower, Mandate For Change, pg. 380

In a Newsweek interview, Eisenhower again recalled the meeting with Stimson:

“…the Japanese were ready to surrender and it wasn’t necessary to hit them with that awful thing.”

– Ike on Ike, Newsweek, 11/11/63

When war was and is warranted and the theories lyrical in brilliance and clarity. 

December 23, 1776 – “The American Crisis” by Thomas Paine

THESE are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to TAX) but “to BIND us in ALL CASES WHATSOEVER” and if being bound in that manner, is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only to God.

LIONEL PODCAST: The Insanity of Queen Hillary – The Inanity of Herr Trump

Let’s look at this latest snafu from the Entitled One. #Hillary has made the same mistake that others have made anent #Trump’s bankruptcies. He never went bankrupt, his companies did. In Atlantic City! Caesars, The Atlantic Club, Showboat, Revel – even Atlantic City all went under. Just to name a few. She now must realize that because she brings these subjects up, Trump is forced to bring up #Whitewater, which was a monumental collapse with criminal implications. Does Mrs. Clinton have any idea what she’s doing and the can of worms she’s opening? But she’s nothing to fear. The in-the-bag and bought-off mainstream media will report nothing of this and will instead make the mistake that Trump’s tax returns indicate net worth and yet ignore Hillary’s speeches and their subject matter.

It’s time to retire the mensroom attendant. Let me say unequivocally that the archaic and hoary practice of men’s room attendants must stop anon and immediately. I don’t know what benefit this serves, how it connotes or suggests panache and posh. It’s some poor soul, relegated to the head, who dutifully turns the facet on for you and stands sadly with a paper towel as you do a quick once over of his assortment and display bad mints, lousy after shave and (my favorite) deodorant. Am I supposed to take my shirt off or directly apply the aerosol through my chemise? And I’m supposed to cough up a couple of bucks each time I micturate or for the evening or can I get an evening pass? And, please, why am I paying him to turn on the faucet again? Enough. Basta!

An evening overheard. My wife and I were seated for dinner last eve next to a family who was attempting to discuss “conspiracy theories” anent 9/11. My ears perked, my interest piqued and my impeccable hearing was radar-locked and loaded, homing in, catching every phoneme and morpheme uttered. As you know, New York restaurants will often dump you on top of contiguous dining mates so I was front row to a celebration of sheer lunacy that was about to commence. The young man, the quintessential dweeb and twerp (dwerp or tweeb, perhaps), apparently was accompanied by his gal and her parents. First, the culinary Steichen had to memorialize everyone’s plated order with an obnoxious and obtrusive photo snap. Next, he had that 20-something Brooklyn hipster wannabe monotonal drone, minus inflection and intonation and emotion and feeling and any semblance of humanity. What he proceeded to describe, ostensibly to impress the parents of the lass whose knickers he cared to continue invading, was a pageant of misstatement, revisionist history, sheer and unadulterated ignorance and the most tenuous of synthetic reasoning and critical thinking I’ve even had the displeasure of experiencing. My wife was trying to calm me but I was quite under control. But the moral of the story is that (a) this waste of flesh is and will always be a Boeotian, (b) America’s future is doomed if mooncalves like this are stewarding the helm of public perception and (c) America simply and organically has no desire to know the truth about the day it swears it will never forget but will clutch with all its might to the lulling and saccharine official story.

LIONEL PODCAST: Subway Frottage, Autoplushophilia, Extreme Shuffleboard, Brooklyn Boors and Transgender Loo High Jinks

Warning. Lionel Podcasts have in double blind tests been linked to causing uncontrollable urges to eat, gamble, shop and have unprotected sex with carnival midway ride operators named “Buddy” sporting maroon rags in their back pockets. They have also been associated with dizziness, weakness, lightheadedness, nausea, vomiting, stomach upset, tiredness, excess saliva or drooling, choking or trouble swallowing, blurred vision, headache, anxiety, weight gain, drowsiness, sleep problems (insomnia), and constipation. Other side excepts are listed infra.

More common:

  • Difficulty with speaking
  • drooling
  • loss of balance control
  • muscle trembling, jerking, or stiffness
  • restlessness
  • shuffling walk
  • stiffness of the limbs
  • twisting movements of the body
  • uncontrolled movements, especially of the face, neck, and back

Less common:

  • Blurred vision
  • dizziness
  • headache
  • inability to move the eyes
  • increased blinking or spasms of the eyelid
  • nervousness
  • pounding in the ears
  • slow or fast heartbeat
  • sticking out the tongue
  • trouble with breathing or swallowing
  • unusual facial expressions


  • Convulsions
  • fast heartbeat
  • high fever
  • high or low blood pressure
  • increased sweating
  • lip smacking or puckering
  • loss of bladder control
  • muscle spasm or jerking of all extremities
  • puffing of the cheeks
  • rapid or worm-like movements of the tongue
  • severe muscle stiffness
  • sudden loss of consciousness
  • tiredness
  • uncontrolled chewing movements
  • uncontrolled movements of the arms and legs
  • unusually pale skin

LIONEL PODCAST: What Do You Expect From A Country That Stopped Asking Questions Decades Ago?

Stratospheric Welsbach seeding for reduction of global warming 
US 5003186 A


A method is described for reducing atmospheric or global warming resulting from the presence of heat-trapping gases in the atmosphere, i.e., from the greenhouse effect. Such gases are relatively transparent to sunshine, but absorb strongly the long-wavelength infrared radiation released by the earth. The method incudes the step of seeding the layer of heat-trapping gases in the atmosphere with particles of materials characterized by wavelength-dependent emissivity. Such materials include Welsbach materials and the oxides of metals which have high emissivity (and thus low reflectivities) in the visible and 8-12 micron infrared wavelength regions.

You’re kidding, right? What do you expect from a country that never asks questions about the most obvious events and questions that appear before its very eyes? In its skies. Why would you think that it would be up on critical issues of governance? It never asks or inquires. About anything. No critical thinking skills are employed or even in possession.

LIONEL PODCAST: Hillary Clinton Will Steal the Vote and Election If Not Indicted

“The argument that the two parties should represent opposed ideals and policies… is a foolish idea. Instead, the two parties should be almost identical, so that the American people can throw the rascals out at any election without leading to any profound or extensive shifts in policy. Then it should be possible to replace it, every four years if necessary, by the other party which will be none of these things but will still pursue, with new vigor, approximately the same basic policies.” ― Carroll Quigley

It’s really quite simple. Look, Donald Trump’s the presumptive Republican nominee. Great. But who counts the votes? Who runs the show? And if you think Hillary Clinton’s a liberal or progressive you must think fluoride in your water is safe or all vaccines are good for you or those funny aerosol hashmark patterns in the sky are contrails. Let me explain. Listen closely.

The demise of the Tampa Tribune. For my fellow Tampeños who lost our hometown newspaper, I provide the following.

Newer Tampa transplants and residents, who are now somewhat accustomed to Tampa’s diversity and patchwork mosaic of ethnicities and cultures, have no idea of the years of institutional resentment and, frankly, bias the old Flawda crackers (the native Floridian and not the white corollary to the dread N-word) held against the Tampeño as in Latins (as the great Roland Manteiga, who had his own historic beef with the Trib, referred lovingly to them.) N.B. Latins versus Latinos. It was palpable and tenable and actual and real. And the paper of record for those who not-so-secretly harbored disdain for Tampa’s Ybor Ciy and West Tampa contingent was the Tampa Tribune.

It goes back to the issue of who exactly was responsible for Tampa’s development. Who settled Tampa and as responsible for its heart and soul, was the question of yore. Was it the South Tampa self-styled and self-imagined wildly delusional and perception strictured “blue bloods” as in the Palma Ceia and Gasparilla pink pants parvenu prepsters named Trey crowd or was it the West Tampa and Ybor crew who were responsible for the cigar industry and Tampa’s actual flavor? I vote resoundingly for the latter.

Before Buckhorn there were Messrs. Nuccio and Greco, two monumental and historic mayors and pols. And during the tenure of the most capable and decent and honest of natural politicians the city ever knew, Hillsborough County’s State Attorney (for whom I was honored to serve) and now retired DCA Judge E. J. Salcines, the vaunted Tampa Tribune could never really grasp the fact of his honesty and overwhelming popularity and sacrificed many a tree to attempt to sully and subvert the record of this gentleman’s impeccable tenure of public service.

For the now (sadly) mothballed Tampa Tribune was in great part the extension of the perspectives and realties of its publisher Red Pittman and editorial board chairman James Clendinen, and therein in great part was the issue. The source of its tenor, the feel, the focus. You just knew these folks and the countless who supported them, saw Tampa as a corrupt Mafia haven with those interesting gentlemen whose names all happened to be appended with vowels ran roughshod. Now, any Tampa historian of note knows full well the other version of history where the additional corruption coconspirators whose names happened to be more respected and venerable and . . . well, cracker-esque. That was a different story.

Oh, and how folks capitalize on the rough and tumble lore of Tampa’s idealized gangster days. Everyone loves the Tampa Mafia story. We know it by heart and rote. You know, the dozen names who are recycled by fatuous fabulists pushing another Tampa paper or site hawking walking tours. I mean, how many Charlie Wall stories must we be subjected to? Yes, we know all about bolita and the shootouts. But if you really want a story, look to the political notables who looked the other way and actually covered up and shielded and protected these very scoundrels.

You really felt it during the Mad Dog Merkle reign of terror. How that bilious bully and lout ever served a day as U.S. Attorney still boggles my mind. And the courthouse scandal years ago along with those county commissioners nabbed redhanded were all too tantalizing for anyone to avoid and that was fair game. That fed the Tribune’s sense of mission, it provided their passion to ferret out corruption. Courthouse corruption. And after all, we all knew who ran the courthouse, now didn’t we? But, alas, they all failed to land a blow on the imaginary corruption machine and they have since evaporated and are now footnotes. The pitchforks and torches have at last been holstered.

To be blunt and most honest, as I am wont to be, I thought the Tribune more often than not a rag whose pages dwindled by the day. The Penny Saver soon overtook it in terms of content and heft. If you wanted fair or festival coverage, sports headlines and the saccharine and anodyne, it served its purpose. The St. Pete Times was always considered the more professional and serious of papers, even when it expanded across the bay and opened up its Tampa bureau that provided pure comedic relief on all too many occasions. But I digress.

But the Tribune great personality in its writers. Truly novel and unique folks who were the heart and soul of the broadsheet. And some were particularly great and beloved.

Tom McEwen was simply brilliant. His folksy and aw, shucks daily breakfast descriptions were brilliant as were his trademark and referenced volumes of food that were unimaginable and endothelially unhealthy. “After an angina-inducing breakfast of high octane Cuban Coffee, two poached eggs, a rasher of crispy nitrate-laden bacon, multiple slices of Ruskin tomatoes (picked by migrants at a time when we understood the contribution of the now dread illegal), an entire loaf of hot Cuban bread with the mandatory palm frond carefully removed and a glass of fresh squeezed Florida orange juice (natch)” – he never ran out of these classics.

Steve Otto would write about such deep subjects as lint and his beloved Frau but with an innocence and kindness that attracted us to his words. Nobody didn’t like Steve, to borrow from Sarah Lee. Walt Belcher was simply great as a TV critic. Just think about that – TV critic. The subject matter is endless and you’re reviewing an appliance that spews bilge. Bob Ross, who (let the record reflect) is not the fro’d and tranquilized TV painting instructor, who left us in ’95, was a truly gifted film reviewer. Dan Ruth – now Daniel Ruth PP (post-Pulitzer) – was simply the greatest voice Tampa had when it really counted. His incessant and brilliantly crafted screeds and indictments against the Glazers were perfection. And specific mention must be made of Howard Troxler‘s “Palm Tree Politics,” that, despite its cutesy cornpone title, regularly featured some of the most exquisite and laser-like political analyses the area’s had. Troxler, borrowing from an SAO colleague of mine, George Bedell, sported a bowtie for years which gave his already bespectacled mien an extra dash of academic panache. They were our Kemptons and Newfields and Breslins.

Those days are over. That’s why they’re called “those days.” It’s time to reconfigure the news delivery and platform system. New Tampans will never know those days when the city had an actual funky character with personalities straight from central casting. Especially now when they don’t have the guts and intellectual wherewithal to see the necessity of investing in transportation and infrastructure. But I digress yet again.

And one more thing. It’s Tampa. Not Tampa Bay. One’s my hometown, the other a body of water.

LIONEL PODCAST: Eulogium for Daniel Berrigan, #WHCD Vapidity and Will More Wilmore Suffice

You will never see the likes of the Brothers Berrigan again. Or Will Rogers, the Marks (Twain and Russell), Dick Gregory, Mort Sahl, George Carlin and Bill Hicks. We’re not talking historical vestiges, vintage heroes. No. We’re talking simply the best of the best who will never return. At least for a few more lifetimes. Listen herein to find the context of my cantankerous contempt.