Any Cost for the Race to Victory

DATELINE: World War II & Big Three

Leave it to History Channel to bait and switch its viewers yet again.

It seems after weeks of calling Race to Victory  a three-part series, it now appears it is multi-part series. Worse yet, History Channel simply tagged on the nextepisode after the third (now penultimate episode). But, wait, there’s even more!

Events superseded individuals in the first two episodes, but we wanted to see more about the interpersonal and psychological ties between the Big Three. This is a glaring omission in an otherwise excellent series. Now it appears this may be coming in the unknown fourth and fifth episode of the show.

We still have no idea what the “race to victory” of the title means. No explanation seems to have been offered, and self-evident strikes us as ridiculous.

 

This is still fascinating stuff: starting with Germany trying to break up the new alliance of Stalin, Churchill, and Roosevelt, by revealing mass graves of Stalin’s victims. It didn’t work because the Allies needed the lesser of the two evils.

The first meeting of the Big Three didn’t happen because Roosevelt was too sick to travel to Asia where Churchill and Stalin actually became friendly. Stalin wanted aid to Leningrad, but Churchill was set on fighting in Africa to protect the Suez Canal.

 

The States were also preparing to take on the Pacific campaign to regain Midway. Both Brits and Americans were breaking Axis codes—and that was the real turning point, but it didn’t hurt to have General Patton show up to give the Nazis a headache.

There are likely many tidbits in this series that only diehard buffs of World War II will know. For the rest of us, this is illuminating and intriguing.

 

 

 

Orange Hair is the New Blackface!

DATELINE: All Lives Anti-Matter!

 Upside Down to an Illiterate?

There goes the neighborhood! That is Trump’s reaction to having a giant sign that says, “Black Lives Matter” in front of his New York Trump Tower.

Apart from thinking that a peaceful movement is a “symbol of hate,” he believes that people who share that view are likely terrorists. He is concerned that the valuable property on Fifth Avenue will never have a white Easter parade again.

This revelation from a man who touts supporters who cry out, “White Power,” and brandish weapons aimed at peaceful marchers, is typical of a man who is going down to Fifth Avenue, with a gun where he famously announced he could shoot someone and never lose a vote.

We now know the people he prefers to shoot are likely black people.

 

The real symbol of hate in 2st century America is sitting in the Oval Office, fielding softball questions from Sean Hannity on TV. And, even then, he cannot answer a question directly—like what horror of genocide will he perform if re-elected.

We do know that in Trump’s world, Robert E. Lee enjoys more protection than a young black man under surveillance by your local police.

He is fighting mad and fighting like hell you never read a book about him, as he is desperate to stop his niece’s unsavory details about a man who put money before family.

Then, again, when your father marches in KKK rallies back in the 1920s, you may be justified in taking his money away from him when he reached the Alzheimer stage of old age. He probably thought black lives matter.

Dive Bomber Alert on Mill Circle!

DATELINE: Robin Bobbin’ on Squirrel

When a plethora of robins showed up this spring in my yard near the big tree, I thought—there goes the neighborhood. However, they started rummaging through last year’s flower stems. Each one was yanked out and taken to some unknown spot for a nest.

That’s when the first wave of bombers hit.

Under the eaves of my side-door porch, I saw birds flying toward the storm door. They never hit because they were building a nest, which I promptly discouraged.

So, the freeloaders went to the big tree not far from the dining room picture window. There, for the first time, they started their architectural work. As if for good measure, they regularly cleaned out the yard of ants and other crawling insects.

 

The good neighbor policy continued until I saw the squirrels and chipmunks arrive.

It was war.

A half-dozen robins attacked with all the ferocity of kamikaze flights. They chased the squirrels out of the tree and around the yard. I had never seen such nimble flight—and they worked often in pairs till the squirrels ran for cover.

Then, they began chasing the chipmunks out of the yard. Less inclined to climb the tree, the chipmunks were nonetheless not welcome in this yard anymore. They were attacked with zooming claws outstretched.

I thought I watched out-takes from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds.

You may have thought the hawk patrol had been replaced.

Regular bombing runs can be seen during morning coffee break whilst sitting at the window. Warfare never looked so natural.

Jerry Jones & Bill Belichick: Birds of a Feather

DATELINE:  Systemic Problem in NFL

The two foremost social thinkers of the 19thcentury remain powerful symbols of racial injustice:  the NFL now claims it did not listen to those uppity black players who believe they are living in an unequal and unjust system of police rioters.

The two biggest symbols of the NFL –Jerry Jones and Bill Belichick—have maintained their deafening silence on the subject of George Floyd and racial brutality.

Their defenders claim that, in private, both are dismayed that their black players are not happy.  But, they are not moved much more than Trump on the scale of justice. Oh, yes, they are both MAGA men.

In the Massachusetts senator debate last night, Joe Kennedy, grandson and great-nephew of Robert and John Kennedy said the Patriots ought to sign Colin Kaepernick. Fat chance: that white snowball in hell belongs to the NFL.

Oh, yes, Robert Kraft is a Trump supporter too.

Defenders of the symbols of NFL victory lappers will never come out and admit their worlds are backward and their views are racist.

It’s hard to draw any other conclusion in the face of such rampant ostrich head burying.

There are those rednecks who line the streets holding automatic weapons as a show to intimidate peaceful demonstrators. There are those resemble the Boston Strangler who put a knee to the neck of the helpless victims but wear police uniforms or NFL neckties.

85% of America think the country is out of control. Among the minority here are Jerry Jones and Bill Belichick: they are always in control, even if your civil rights are thrown out the window.

These are members of the Orange Pips.

Pointless and Pointed at West Point

DATELINE:  Drinking Underhanded?

Only Trump could confuse West Point with Waterloo. Water, water, everywhere, but he could hardly raise the glass to drink.

Your racially insensitive president (according to black Republican Sen. Tim Scott, SC) insisted that the young officer graduates of West Point be called back from home for a two-week isolation period. They had to do it as it was an order. He wanted to have them listen to his speech sitting shoulder to shoulder, no distance or masks for them.

More than a dozen cadets in the class have tested positive for COVID-19. They didn’t take their hydroxy swigs.

Yes, in a month of disasters, Trump managed to create another in his re-election bid.

These feckless West Point graduates also would be denied having family and friends in attendance by presidential order. No wonder the applause meter was broken at the ceremony—and Trump was about as flat as you ever heard him.

If matters were going from bad to worse, you had a president who displayed now more strange symptoms of a malady of unknown origin.  It underscored his inability to stand still at the graves of the Unknown Soldiers at Arlington on Memorial Day.

At West Point Trump could not pronounce words like Douglas MacArthur. He could not lift a bottle of water to his lips with one hand: he needed two hands, which showed that the sound of one-hand clapping is strictly Zen in this administration.

He also had trouble negotiating the ramp down from the dais. Trump was angry when people suggested he was a doddering old man who needed assistance. It reminded many of his catcalls to Hilary when he said she was not healthy enough to be president. He claimed the ramp was wet (no rain had fallen) and there was no guard-rail to hold onto.

Those who have called the POTUS a madman, a psychiatric mess, and worse, now were able to note in excusing the Commander in Chief that he showed all the characteristics of a man with a neurological disorder.

Something akin to a brain tumor.

This tumor rumor set Trump into a Twitter tirade, which is exactly what you’d expect from a man with a brain lesions. Next, he’ll be on the roof of the White House shooting a rifle aimed at Democrats.

Is there no one to take Trump to have a brain scan? It may be a thankless job, made more difficult by finding where they put his brain.

Typhoid Trump Test Swabs Destroyed!

DATELINE: Poisoned Swabs!

 Up Your Nose!

After Trump’s ill-advised trip to a Maine factory where they make test swabs for the coronavirus, we are forced to ask the question:

Is Trump infected? Is he the Typhoid Mary of the COVID-19 generation?

It seems more than a few people think so. Immediately after his visit to Guilford’s swab manufacturing plant, all swabs made during his visit were discarded and destroyed.

Trump, you guessed it, did not wear a mask during his visit to the company where his supporters and donors invited him. They wore masks, but he breathed over everything. You don’t want to put a swab up your nose that has Trump microbes on it.

Yes, the owners of the company fear that he ruined a day’s work when every test swab is needed, owing to a shortage.

It seems that Trump is tainted with cornonavirus, and it’s the best kept secret in the White House. He is likely to be asymptomatic: one of those cursed souls who spreads the menacing virus—but never fully comes down with the sickness.

In the 19thcentury, Typhoid Mary was a mere interloper in spreading microbes. Trump is a Master salesman: he refuses outright to wear a mask or sanitize. Everyone around him must do so.

The Maine town that voted for Trump two to one in 2016 is unrepentant—and welcomed the racist carrier back to spread more disease.

Now, when he touches the very equipment used to track the disease, you have the worst possible scenario for its spread.

Typhoid Trump strikes again!

Fat Cells Unite!

DATELINE: When a Pound is not a Lb.

 Moby Trump?

Someone is not telling us the truth. The relative weight of blubber is not fluid.

According to Nero Trump’s latest physical exam, he stands 6’3” and weighs 244 pounds. This is a growth of height and weight since he became president.

When we looked at Ryan Allen, formerly of the New England Patriots, another athletic individual, he is listed as 6’3” and 230 pounds. Clearly someone has his numbers skewed.

When you look at a man 40 years younger than Trump, one expects to see more muscle. In this photo comparison, it is clear that Trump has more muscle around the ears and around the waist.

We think it cruel that Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi believes that Ryan Allen is morbidly obese as she characterized a man who is tall and athletic. Oh, wait, she was calling Mr. Trump “morbidly obese.”

We must castigate the House Speaker because Trump is merely “clinically obese,” if we believe the poundage presented by his ever-truthful doctor.

It is not possible that Trump is 275 pounds, though his shape more naturally matches the size girth of NFL linemen more than a place kicker.

Trump defenders insist that the President’s fat cells have been photoshopped.  We think it is more possible that they have been distorted by hydroxy treatments. Couple that with the lack of exercise caused by his daily couch-watching habits determined by Fox TV binges, and you have put a bullseye on the below-the-belt hitting Democrats.

Lost Gold Pivotal Turning Point

DATELINE:  Paranoia Grows

That gold in the Philippines has reached a breaking point. It’s ground-breaking, according to the History Channel. Well, yes, when you drill 900 feet underground to a waterfall, that surely qualifies as groundbreaking. Lost Gold of World War2 is rapidly winding down its second go-round.

Of course, both this show and the Skinwalker are finishing up with mysterious helicopters circling overhead. There is a lack of creativity on these shows as they fake danger. Both History shows are using the same alarmist hint.

Once again we are facing one of those needle in a haystack digs  If they are in the wrong spot, you may have to return next year to find anything.. And, of course, this leaves John Casey undaunted. One of the three digs is a collapsed mine shaft that gives off sounds of continuing collapse.

Another dig has the promise of unusual stone not indigenous to the Luzon area. And, the 900 drill can be knocked off course by inches. Have we learned anything from the Curse of Oak Island?

A remote digger will tunnel through the collapsed area –-and Bingo sends Casey a map that he is skeptical to accept. If you can’t read the clues, what are you doing leading a treasure hunt?

However, the discovery of French royal red marble—obviously brought to the mountain from Europe may indicate a connection between the Germans and Japanese during the war, in cahoots to hide something.

The paranoia grows when unexpected government (or purportedly official) come to overview the work. After several warnings, John Casey decided to bring in armed security guards.

Casey also discusses the map with Chuck McDougall who confirms that his maps are accurate.

 

 

 

 

The Jinx: Rich Killer Robert Durst

DATELINE: Another Trump Croney

 Mr. Bob!

When we decided to binge watch the entire six-part documentary called The Jinxfrom HBO back in 2015 about the shenanigans and crimes of Robert Durst, we thought we had tuned into Monsterquest.

How can it be that another super-rich privileged fool can be, like Jeffrey Epstein, guilty of numerous murders? We think that the term socio-path is not quite correct: socio-privileged would be more accurate.

How many people did this arrogant twit kill? His wife went missing in 1982, and her friends knew he did it (she told them to follow up if something happened to her).

The New York police detectives make Lestrade look like Sherlock Holmes. Are they paid off? And, the Texas detectives were just bemused by their own cynicism. Durst was so confident that he could escape justice ($2M for one trial lawyers who helped him escape the death penalty), that he called a film director whom he thought sympathetic to give an interview.

All is Good was Andrew Jadecki’s fictionalized version of Durst—and charmed the killer enough to cooperate with a six-part doc for TV, directed by Jadecki. If you haven’t found it to be worthy of “Believe it or Not,” you don’t know Ripley.

Did he kill his wife Kathie? His old friend Susan Berman? A blackmailing roomer in Galveston named Morris Black?  How many others? He jokes about it.

His rotten with bucks family ignored it all and protected their personal reputations. Douglas Durst even won awards for family values.

Director Andrew Jadecki ultimately turns the screw on a most unpleasant crew.

In Durst’s hideous world, he is a Jonah or Jinx to everyone around him, and that’s how he explains what happened. But you cannot excuse a jury in Texas that blames a man for causing his own murder and dismembering his own body to be put in garbage bags.

Perhaps you should not try to binge this nauseating brew.

 

 

 

Trump Flees to Florida

DATELINE: Storming the White House

 Trump & Mentor.

Gutless and a snivellling coward, Donald Trump has fled the White House. See Donald run. How fast does he run? Hightailing it out of town is a new record.

A night of loud protest, storming the gates of the People’s Home terrified Trump enough that he was up to 3:30 am. He announced that he was safe within because the paid civil-servants known as Secret Service are ready to protect his sorry ass, no matter what kind of a tool he is.

A predecessor in the White House, named Harry Truman, once said, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” And Trump has taken his Tupperware and canned beans on the road. At Mar-a-lago, he will find a golf course in which to hide.

The mayor of Washington, D.C., had it correct when she called him afraid and alone, needing vicious dogs and a body guard. They could not quell the noise.

As a result of losing sleep, the coward has flown off today to Florida where Hitler once reportedly was living in Naxi exile.

We know that people like Trump in history do not always end well.

The storming of the White House gates almost had a parallel to the storming of the Bastille in Paris. We were trying to recall if the King of France fled in terror from his citizens like Donald Trump.

It did not save Louis, though he did not have to face the voters, now angry about a pandemic and racial injustice.

Does Trump get it? No more than Marie Antoinette. If Trump could be quoted, he might say let them eat bullets from his national police state.

Gone, Forgotten, and Dismissed: Obit for a Colleague

DATELINE: Corona of Career

It’s minor and troubling to almost no one, except perhaps me.

A colleague of many years passed away not quite ten years after retiring. She was on the faculty of our small college for thirty years, same time and same length as I.

As Robert Frost once said, happiness reaches in height what it lacks in length. We were the disgruntled, unhappy “employees” of the College, even denied being called “faculty” by administration in our living and breathing careers.

The rank of professor meant nothing much, a professor emeritus was denied to us.

How much worse can it be when we die off?

The announcement of her death form the Human Resources Center came from a director who never knew her. It was a pithy two sentences saying she had “worked” at the college in Nursing Department for many years. Because of the pandemic, there would be no services. There was no additional information.

And apparently no other remembrances or comments. This was her final moment on the college register. No eulogy, no thanks, no appreciation, no nothing.

It shall be the same for me. In a tight-knit department like Nursing, she was anathema: disliked by her colleagues for being a stickler for the regulations, and not participating in the social life of fake camaraderie among those with whom you share no politics. So it was for me.

There once existed a half-dozen of us from differing departments who sat together, a huddled small group, at all faculty meetings. We recognized each other as pariahs of the school. If we didn’t sit together, no one would sit with us.

In the past decade we retired to no particular fanfare. Now we are dying to no particular notice.

I visited her at her office now and then, gave her copies of my books that were published, and she was appreciative. Two other faculty of that ilk have also died in recent years. We were a grim little group of despised faculty members: not by students, but by our fellow faculty.

If no department head colleague will do cheerleading of your credentials, hard work, accomplishments at the college at death, then there is nothing more to be said.

You are relegated to non-person, name stricken from the record, students never to breathe your name unless in curse for a low grade.

Thus, the end came for another kind associate. It made me hope the college will be one of those they say may close its doors in a few years: let all of them on faculty for those decades  share the same fate.

This memorial eulogy is anonymous for an unnamed, unknown faculty member from a breed of small liberal arts colleges that are fading away one by one.

 

 

Hunt for Elusive Unitah Skinwalker

DATELINE: Pre-TV Series

 Knapp Time.

 Two years previous to the History Channel series, the “paranormal investigator” named Jeremy Corbell took on the subject with his viewpoint. He rounded up George Knapp who had done 20 years of research—including work with Robert Bigelow before he sold the ranch and its rights to the new TV series owner.

The film is called Hunt for the Skinwalker.

Skinwalker Ranch is a paranormal Disneyland, according to this movie.

Corbell intones like he is Rod Serling stealing Twilight Zone phrases in his narrative. He found his matchmate in George Knapp, aging and renewed UFO hunter for decades. Knapp has boxes of old videotaped interviews and paper documents. Korbell won fame by bringing Bob Lazar out of hiding a few years ago to give an updated opinion on Area 51.

This is George Knapp’s seminall life work, apparently never digitized nor copied for posterity. Videos were never made into DVD and audio tape look like you couldn’t find the proper equipment to play them. No one has looked at this material in years. Now, the Hunt for the Skinwalker will make an attempt. It’s clearly enough to spark History Channel’s interest in doing a series two years later.

Korbell likens the area to “Area 52” and largely lets dramatic Knapp do narration duty. He knows how to make mystery more bizarre, for sure.

Knapp related the story of how he tried to do everything to provoke the poltergeist, UFOs, ghosts, orbs, or other phenomena, to no avail, even doing some forbidden digging. He was attacked only by mosquitos. He also knew Robert Bigelow and reveals that the strange billionaire did not want the associated horrors beyond UFOs. He indicated that Bigelow was warned off the property—and sold it to Brandon Fuglar.

Fulgar shows up in this film, refusing to identify himself because it would hurt his business “empire,” which is Fuglar to a T. However, something changed his mind between making this Corbell movie and the History series.

Here the cattle mutilations and other worldly voices are given far more attention.

Neither Corbell, nor Knapp, has any participation in the TV series. And, the movie is far better than the Fuglar produced show.

 

 

Tom Brady: Oh, Say, Can You See?

 DATELINE:  Charitable De-pants of Brady

 Splitsville for Tom? Pulling an Elvis?

Tom Brady’s golf game has brought a split decision. It was a new low for the Super Bowl man without a pocket.

The big televised charity golf tournament with Peyton Manning, Phil Mickelson and Tiger Woods, came apart at the seams during the match.

It seems Tom Brady bent over and found himself flying by the seat of his pants. How could a man so thin break the laws of physics? Or maybe he just broke the wind speed for a tee-off swing.

We haven’t seen such roughage to a wardrobe since Janet Jackson pulled her prank. Yes, Tom, we see you for all your worth. He needed his copper-infused pajama pants to play the rest of the game.

If we recall clearly, Elvis used to regularly split his pants in his final concert tour. Some believe it was sewn into the act.

Tom needed a diversion, and a pair of Sponge Bob’s pants fit the bill, harry, and tom. Underneath it all, there came a subpar moment in sports history. This seemed to parallel Spygate, Deflategate, and the general run of fake news.

Now this has nothing on Trump on Memorial Day, swaying in the breeze like the American flag. Supporters wanted to support the unsteady President who played golf the day before and showed his handicap: standing still.

In front of the Unknown Soldier during a ceremony, Trump looked like a man who had a few too-many swigs of Clorox before the game. He needed his club to act as a walker. We expect to see Trump split voters and pants, but never Tom Brady, his ardent supporter friend.

We gasped to see what color Tom’s undies might be: at least he wore undies, unlike some NFL players on Sunday games day.

Tom’s world tour of torn pants and broken promises will continue in Tompa Bay where the sea breeze will send a cooling cool to the Elvis stunt.

Beast of Whitehall: Local Legend

DATELINE: Bigfoot Next to Champ

Brian Gosselin of Whitehall.

You might think it is some dark Viking who attacked Alfred the Great, but no, this beast is another Bigfoot wannabe who seems to reside in upstate New York, not far from Vermont. Whitehall is the “Home of the U.S. Navy,” so damn those torpedoes.

Yes, Whitehall is a sleepy New England town with charm galore, but it borders on paranormal, if not abnormal, creatures: Champ is the Loch Ness Monster of nearby Lake Champlain, and the Beast of Whitehall, (the Abair Road Incident)  has been skulking around the Adirondack Mountains since settlers first arrived. Now the local Chamber of Commerce seems to be cashing in.

We don’t know if Hawkeye and Uncas ran into them during the Last of the Mohicans, but if they looked, Bigfoot was behind one of the trees.

This short, interesting local documentary was put together, based on a key 1976 sighting in which 11 police officers, local and state, responded when three local teens ran into a seven-foot monster with red eyes.

Officer Brian Gosselin’s younger brother is no longer among us, and this film is a testimony to his encounter. Brian remains haunted by the meeting and suffered years of ridicule as a police officer. His logs have mysteriously disappeared, despite his painstaking recollections.

First sightings occurred when people showed up in the area in the mid-1700s. The national protected area is bigger than most other national parks, including Yellowstone. It also has the distinction of being a protected area—that is, they ban any hunting of Bigfoot. He is a permanent resident, but hasn’t cast any ballots we know of.

Most academics disparage the idea of a large primate living secretly in Whitehall, even today. Alas, too, many of the key witnesses from the 1970s have amazingly already passed away: Dan Gordon gave an extraordinary interview to Monsterquest and died in 2016, while Paul Gosselin died in 2015. It is hard to believe how fast time passes. Even Bigfoot’s grandchildren must now be secretly roaming the woods outside of Whitehall.

 

 

Skinny Dip at Skinwalker Ranch

DATELINE: Yes, We Have No Mutilations

 AlienCon Guests!

There seems to be some paranoia striking deep into Skinwalker Ranch, which is saying something. Already on alert about all things paranormal, an ersatz Area 51 and a Half, the crew does not need much to be at each other’s throats.

This week several interesting developments made us skeptical. First, while they were trying to determine if EVPs were occurring at one of the staff houses, they see a helicopter flying overhead. It has a camera on its bottomside and no insignias.

It is clearly not Brandon Fugal, their boss who has a fancy copter and arrives like deus ex machina. This unknown aircraft sets them into a frenzy. We thought it would not be beyond producers to hire a fly-by to add intrigue.

This matter is put on the back burner when we are cast into the opening show’s first sequence:  discovery of a dead cow on the property. Everyone scrambles, but the creature, dead for a few hours, is not mutilated, by dead mysteriously.

When they call their billionaire owner, he is so upset that he states he will drive over immediately with an expert in the subject of cattle mutilation. Suddenly he is not flying in his private copter from Vegas.

When he arrives with his “expert”, it is none other than Linda Moulton Howe, making her appearance his best decision in the series.

Surprisingly, her costar on Ancient Aliens, Travis Taylor, is not there to greet her.

She visits the dead cow and checks out footage and states the obvious: it’s not cattle mutilation, but the electro-magnetic aspect interests her.

Though the alpacas are in a protective cage, Linda points out that something could enter from above, which comes as a shock to several. Hunh? You mean they never considered the UFOs?

Oh, well, this was a better entry than the previous six.