The Nashville Cat was almost nineteen years old- in Kitty Years that is ancient. She was arthritic and had been becoming weaker over the past three months. She didn't seem to be in pain- she still ate quite a bit and often, but other than that she mostly slept. I knew the time was coming when the decision would have to be made and the action taken. Perhaps I was a coward for putting it off so long.

I fed her as usual this morning but didn't have time to stay- I had several jobs lined up, so I was out the door without paying much attention to her. I did stand a moment and watch her chowing down on some turkey slices (she loved turkey).

My girlfriend called me about an hour later- my Kitten was bleeding from the mouth. Badly. She wasn't doing too well- I needed to haul ass home.

I made the decision long before I walked in the door- I knew deep down I'd let my Kitten Cat linger too long. I knew deep down today would be the day I'd have to pass judgment on my best friend's life.

I was right.

Funny how the traffic seems to choose such moments to really stack up in front of you- all the way home and all the way to the kitty clinic I seemed to be moving in slow motion, and I'm absolutely certain I hit every single red light on the road. Still, when I finally got her to the clinic things happened in a calm, orderly manner, and me and Kitten Cat were soon in a quiet room, waiting for the doctor.

It was a tumor, the doctor said, under the tongue, and it had ruptured. Given her age it was likely not the only one, and no operation would help. We all knew what the best thing to do was, and after paying my 30 pieces of silver to the nurse the procedure was begun.

As I held my sweet Kitten in my arms the first injection was given, and she was asleep in seconds. They told me they would let her rest for ten minutes before the final injection, and they left me alone with my old companion as she slept, me gently hugging her to my chest.

I whispered to her, talking to her of all the good times we'd had- how she'd appeared upon my doorstep one summer morning so long ago, and had lept into my arms and sunk her tiny claws right into my heart. How she quickly became Queen of her domain. How she had been a champion mouser. How she would sleep the night away on my chest, gently purring sweet dreams into me. How she loved to climb on anything and everything. How she stayed loyal to me over the years as I moved from place to place and from state to state. How she never once disappeared, not even for a single night, in all the time we were together. How when she went out and got herself motherized I prepared a nice old box full of soft rags for her and put it in the bedroom closet, and how on the night her children came forth I sat on the floor beside the box all night, petting her and talking to her and helping with the incredibly tiny fuzzballs that she gave to me. And how those kittens grew and were given their own hoomans and went on to lead lives of their own.

The doctor eventually came back in, and soon it was over. My Kitten Cat arose and walked across the Rainbow Bridge, and all her pain was done.

We'll meet again one day, my Kitten and me. On the day it's my turn to walk across the Bridge she'll be waiting there for me, in her place as the best and most loyal friend I ever had.

But in the meantime, her corner is now empty, and all that's left is a hole in my heart and a memory that will never ever die.

Goodbye, my Kitten. I'll miss you.

Re: http://www.democraticunderground.com/discu...

I knew what the doc was likely going to say, and I wasn't wrong- she had probably been hit by a car, and that incident destroyed virtually all the bone in her hips. There was no chance of life without endless pain and problems, so it was best to send her on her way.

It was the shortest love affair I've ever had- she appeared in my life at midnight last night, and she disappeared from it again a mere sixteen hours later. In those few hours we developed and nurtured a love that will stay in my heart forever. I opened my door and my heart to her on a dark and stormy night, and she flew right into my arms and stayed there until we parted on a warm, sunny spring afternoon. She weighed in at a mere six and a quarter pounds, but I know that's an illusion- in those few short hours she showed me a heart so big that it filled my soul to overflowing.

She was precocious. She was playful. She was completely innocent. She had eyes that could melt the polar ice cap. We sat in the veterinary clinic waiting room for over two hours, and in that time every person in the overflowing room also fell in love with her. She sat calmly on my lap and let both children and adults come up and pet her as her tail wagged so fast it seemed to disappear. Even the other pets seemed to know she was special- they all wanted to come up and meet her. They didn't do that for any other fur friend in the room.

An interesting aside: When I first took her out to the car to drive to the clinic I discovered I had a flat tire. I took her back inside so she could rest peacefully while I changed it. It's almost as if God wanted to grant her an extra few moments of peace before calling her home. Then those final two hours were filled with a special joy as she entered the hearts of over a dozen complete strangers.

Imagine what she could have done if things had been different. All the joy she would have spread. All the smiles she would have provoked. All the laughter she would have engendered. All the friends she would have made.

But it wasn't meant to be. She was badly broken, and if I hadn't helped gently escort her through her last day she would have ended up the same, only perhaps not as peacefully. I believe she was sent to me for that reason alone- to give a lonely, hungry, frightened, tired little two month old puppy a single good day to remember life by as she walked across the Rainbow Bridge on four good, strong legs.

By the way- I had to give her a name so they could complete their records. I didn't have to think long or hard about it- the name I chose, and that is now enshrined on a single index card in an old file cabinet, is Beauty.

And she was beautiful. And I miss her badly already.

Father Christmas. Babbo Natale. Kris Kringle. Bellsnickle. Sinterklas. Kolyada. Svaty Miklas. Gaghant Baba. World 'round, he is the stuff of tales and legends. He's more than simply a jolly old man- Santa Claus is a concept that helps bind all that's joyful in the world into one brightly wrapped package and delivers it to all the children, all at once, once a year.

Naughty? Nice? Fun toys under the Christmas tree as a reward for a life well lived, or a lump of coal for your year's crimes? It's not something to be taken lightly- Saint Nick KNOWS. He keeps a list and is an impartial adjudicator of every child's inherent goodness. Hagios Nikolaos kicks ass- he already HAS their names.

Christmas is an odd sort of day- taken whole cloth from nothing, instead sewn together patch-work like a comfortable old quilt from rituals and beliefs stretching back through time and across the world, then finally confiscated by the Christians and used in common celebration of the birth of the King Of Kings. One single day out of the entire year is now set aside by the world to meditate upon a most astounding idea- peace on earth and good will toward men.

Even wars stop for Santa. As Christmas Day came upon them, the front line soldiers of World Wars I and II ceased their fire, put down their weapons, stood up, and granted a moment's peace to those on the other side of the lines. For a single day, enemies shared comradeship instead of weapons fire, drank coffee and ate meals together, exchanged such small gifts as they could find upon the battlefield, and enjoyed a few peaceful hours exchanging stories of home with men they knew they would be shooting at again the next day. The spirit of Santa Claus moved among these tired, frightened men, and for a moment madness turned into peace.

It's a lesson I sincerely hope our children re-learn. Our generation seems to have forgotten the importance of such things in our rush toward self destruction, and we need to remember what this day is REALLY all about so the dream of peace will never fade away and die.

As long as there are pine trees waiting to light the night with twinkling red and green lights, as long as there is a bowl of fresh popcorn all ready for families to string together, as long as there is as little as one single voice out in the snowy night singing songs of peace on earth, as long as there are candy canes to lick and presents to unwrap, Father Christmas will walk among us and whisper words of peace into our children's ears.

So in the spirit of the tradition of our comrades on the front lines, may all the guns today be silent and all the conflicts ended. For just a little time may all foes 'round the world reach out their hands to their enemies and remember how to be friends. For just twenty four brief hours let the world turn without the taint of malice, vindictiveness and hate. For just a few brief moments let us all put our petty spitefulness aside and extend our hands across the battlefield as friends instead of enemies. It IS possible, you know- all you have to do is believe in Santa Claus.

It's been many years since I've been in a house full of children on Christmas morning. My modest apartment has no chimney for Santa to sneak down, nor do I have a Christmas tree for him to put my presents under. There are no stockings on the hearth that isn't there, and I have no plans to leave milk and cookies out for him- if Santa is hungry, he knows where the kitchen is!

But I've found that none of that is necessary for me- I DO have family, even though most of them are half a nation away. I still have my allotment of close friends, and although my gifts both to and from them all may not be properly wrapped, they are given and received freely and with great joy.

I've lived a full life- I've been a lot of places and I've seen a lot of things. And throughout all the years of my life I've always managed to set aside this one day out of the year to sit in peace and thank the Lord for the idea of Santa Claus. I've kept my eyes, my mind, and my heart open to the concept, and in the end that's good enough for me. It's enough to give me hope that in the end we may still have a chance to get past our hate one day.

So with all my heart and all my soul, I DO, and always WILL believe in Santa Claus. He DOES exist! And you can wrap that up in brightly colored paper and give it to your children and call it truth, and know you haven't lied.

Merry Christmas, all my friends.

God bless us, every one.

Ya can't say we haven't tried. Letters, emails, phone calls, office visits, public meetings, press releases, press conferences, referendums, protests, demonstrations, civil disobedience, talk shows, office takeovers, songs, poems, chants, bumper stickers, bridge signs, sky writing (okay, I haven't actually SEEN any sky writing yet, but ya gotta admit it's a GREAT idea!!!), and on and on and on and on and ON.

All saying the same thing, loud and clear: IMPEACH BUSH AND CHENEY.

I just have one simple question for all you Congresscritters- WHICH PART OF THIS DO YOU FAIL TO UNDERSTAND?

We The People do NOT want more war. We The People do NOT want more death. We The People do NOT want more rampant destruction. We The People do NOT want the government to pillage any more of our treasury. We The People do NOT want to attack Iran, even if Israel DOES think it's a bitchin' idea.

We The People are tired, and too many of our precious children have died already. We The People do NOT want to watch any more of our children die FOR NO REASON.

Give us peace, Pelosi. Give us peace, Reid. Conyers, Waxman, Kerry, Clinton- open your hearts and minds for a moment and understand what it is We The People want NEED you to do.

NOW.

The blood is now on YOUR hands, Congress. Every dead soldier has your names burned into their heart. Every innocent civilian brutally murdered by George Bush and Dick Cheney now has YOU to thank. Every mother, father, daughter, son, aunt, uncle, neice, nephew, and best friend now lying quiet and still in the ground have YOU to thank for their snug little coffin- that is to say, if there was enough of them left after having that bomb land on their head to actually bury...

We hired you to do a specific job. We gave you a mandate. It was clear and unequivocal. It was simple. You know what that job is- do I really have to say it yet again?

Okay, I will.

IMPEACH GEORGE W. BUSH AND DICK CHENEY.

NOW.

Vacation's over. Get back to work. You have a job to do.

It IS, you know...
---

TREASON
trea·son (trē'zən)

1. Violation of allegiance toward one's country or sovereign, especially the betrayal of one's country by waging war against it or by consciously and purposely acting to aid its enemies.
2. A betrayal of trust or confidence.

Middle English, from Anglo-Norman treson, from Latin trāditiō, trāditiōn-, a handing over.
---

The Presidential Oath of Office, as taken from Article II, Section 1, of the Constitution:

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.
---

"Stop throwing the Constitution in my face! It's just a goddamned piece of paper!" -President George W. Bush

~~~~~~

The Congressional Oath of Office, as specified in 1789 by Congress itself:

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support the Constitution of the United States.
---

"You're right! Here- please allow us to use this goddamned piece of paper to wipe your ass with!" -The Congressional "Sweet Sixteen"

~~~~~~

Behind Winston’s back the voice from the telescreen was still babbling away about pig-iron and the overfulfilment of the Ninth Three-Year Plan. The telescreen received and transmitted simultaneously. Any sound that Winston made, above the level of a very low whisper, would be picked up by it, moreover, so long as he remained within the field of vision which the metal plaque commanded, he could be seen as well as heard. There was of course no way of knowing whether you were being watched at any given moment. How often, or on what system, the Thought Police plugged in on any individual wire was guesswork. It was even conceivable that they watched everybody all the time. But at any rate they could plug in your wire whenever they wanted to. You had to live—did live, from habit that became instinct—in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized. -George Orwell's '1984' Chapter One

~~~~~~

Experience hath shewn, that even under the best forms (of government) those entrusted with power have, in time, and by slow operations, perverted it into tyranny. -Thomas Jefferson

~~~~~~

Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both. -Benjamin Franklin

I always thought this was one little moment of could-be-history that disappeared way too quickly, with far too little attention. Hell, even the DU blew it off.

The subpoena was issued. She ignored it. There was zero followthrough. It disappeared into that dark night.

What the hell? Talk about short memories...

http://www.truthout.org/docs_2006/042507R....

He CANNOT "executive privilege" himself out of a murder rap- and from all indications this is how it could end up. He can try, but I've got a dollar here that says he won't succeed- some things are simply too important to allow such a blatant cover-up to go forward for too long. The truth will out. In this case it must, and I have a feeling it will.

We may yet get our wish, boys and girls. George "The Decider" *bush behind bars for life- or perhaps even on death row, convicted of conspiracy to commit murder AND accessory to murder.

I REALLY like the sound of that.

Defend him (AND his merry band of co-conspirators) against THAT, Gonzo. If you think you can...

(Note: I do not intend this post to make me appear to relish the death of Mr. Tillman, nor do I intend it to in any way exacerbate his mother and father's grief.)

On edit: Perhaps this should not have been a new thread- the mods may move it to this thread at their discretion. http://www.democraticunderground.com/discu...

upon seizing dictatorial powers will be to dissolve the Congress and Senate, and quite likely purge them with mass arrests?

Have they no sense at ALL of self preservation? Don't they see that if they fail to act beforehand, they will be out of a job, and possibly jailed or rendered and killed?

Thinking about this, perhaps Pelosi DOES know this, and is merely putting her own ass above the asses of the nation (so to speak). Perhaps she thinks that when the day comes she'll be able to point out how she tried so very hard to protect the coming Two Man Show. The flaw there is, she has no idea just how vicious and uncaring they really are- call *bush nice and sweet and handsome all ya want, but he won't remember it in the morning, nor thank you for it. He's a sociopath and a psychopath, and any time you see life in his eyes it's merely a mask of sanity being worn. A MASK. Nothing more.

Impeachment, Madame Speaker. Do it now. Do it before it's too late. Do it before the mask is ripped off and the horrible truth reaches out for you.

Do it before you're shit outta luck, and shit out of a job. Do it before *bush screws all the asses in America out of everything they've ever done in their entire lives.

So to speak.


On edit: As an aside, perhaps you'll note I used the term "lawgivers". For those who don't realize it, the term comes from The Planet Of The Apes. This is the image that comes to mind when I hear that term.

http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/20...

For the very first time I feel personally threatened by George Bush. This new order ('scuse the pun) is so open-ended and can be interpreted in so many ways that to post a thread here saying "J'accuse!" and attaching his name to it may very well be enough for them to come in the night.

This could very well be the Grand Opening of all the scattered FEMA reeducation camps. This could very well be the beginning of the Night Of The Long Knives. This could very well be the start of The Purge.

How do we defend America against this? Do we do as they desire and tape our own mouths shut? Do we toss our keyboards (and the rage contained therein) into the wastebasket? Do we fade into the shadows and hope we're not noticed?

Do we surrender?

This post alone could be enough. These words alone could very well be the last words I post- the DU is a worldwide forum of freedom, and that is enough to incur their wrath. I've never made a secret of my real identity, and it would take all of ten seconds for some brainiac to figure it out and decide to render me to some unknown hole in the ground. And there are many here much more outspoken and eloquent than I who could find themselves sitting bound and gagged next to me for what they continue to say here.

It's frightening- I know it's meant to be, and I feel no shame in admitting it's working. For the very first time I sense we're dancing on the razor's edge. Personally. Intimately. Seriously.

I have no solution to this. I can't think of any words of encouragement or enlightenment. I can't think of anything other than the fact that the nation of freedom I was born into is turning into a fascist dictatorship before my very eyes, and the lawmakers in Washington are playing petty games while the Brownshirts sneak in the back door and prepare to walk down the aisles. If you remember your history, the day that happened in Germany they led many of those in the chamber out the back door and shot them dead on the spot. It was that quick. It was that simple. And it could very well happen again.

I admit it- I'm scared. I hope we can overcome this, but at the moment I don't see how. I hope for encouragement, for optimistic words, for someone to shake my shoulder and wake me up.

Somehow, I don't believe that's going to happen any time soon.

Good luck to us all.

Once upon a time there was a woman. This woman had a son. The son went off to a war that turned out to be meaningless. One day the son was killed. The mother, in her shock and rage at the horrible and unjust ending of her son's life, stood up and faced down the monster directly responsible for this travesty, and in doing so she became the cornerstone of a national movement.

She gave up her life to this movement. She traveled thousands of miles, spent countless nights trying to sleep in strange, cramped rooms, and gave endlessly and tirelessly of herself so others would feel and understand her rage, and perhaps somehow help to find a meaning for her son's death.

She dared an insane man to meet her face to face so she could talk to him. When he ran away from her she thus exposed him as a coward and a bully. She stood tall and strong, her dead son's memory giving her the strength to go another day, stand before another group of people, and tell them why this war was WRONG.

She was famous, and people hung on her every word. What she was trying to do seemed to be working.

Then all of a sudden, it all seemed to go wrong. She said something somebody didn't like. They took offense. They spoke out. They tried to paint an image of a self-serving person who sought out the spotlight simply because she enjoyed it.

They were wrong.

It started feeling to this woman that her message had been lost. It started feeling to this woman that they were trying to take her sorrow and her rage and twist it to say and mean different things. They were becoming hostile to her personally. It began to seem to her they were trying to line up at her son's grave so they could take a piss on it. It frightened her and frustrated her and insulted her that these people would take her motherly sorrow and try to dirty it and her dead son.

One day she grew so weary of fighting the very people who had begun by marching with her and singing with her and standing with her, she decided to pack up her sorrow and go back home to try to find a measure of privacy and peace for herself, and perhaps find a way to put her dead son to honorable rest once and for all.

And many of the people contemptuously laughed at her and said she was running away, and they said "What a disappointment."

But how many of those people have lost sons and daughters to the monster? How many of them have criss-crossed the nation trying to get people to see the monster for what it is? How many miles have they walked in HER shoes? How many times have they stood outside the White House, daring the monster to come out and face them? How many nights have they been forced to sleep in jail cells, arrested for publicly speaking their words of unendurable pain?

How many?

Well?

Rice gets a subpoena- she ignores it. It, along with the entire subject, disappears. Gonzo gets a subpoena. He ignores it. It, along with the entire subject, disappears. Cheney, Rove... all the other players have that piece of paper waved at them, and they kinda chuckle and flip the bird. It, along with the entire subject, disappears.

Waxman, Conyers, etc. Hearings, TV cameras, questions without answers, past treasonable actions slip by because of faulty memory chips, and that's okay because NEXT WEEK WE'RE GONNA CALL (fill in the blank here) and THEN we're gonna get some ANSWERS.

Talk. Nod and wink. Smirk. Play the game, sweat a little for the people to see, then go back to work and screw the nation some more. No biggie, 'cause we're finally doing something about it.

Riiiiiight.

So here come those who say "No, no, we're really finally DOING SOMETHING. Just have patience, little boy- you obviously don't see the big picture."

A-yep. Small steps, Ellie. An inch at a time and before you know it they'll all be in jail, smirking outward from behind the bars.

You will, please, pardon me when in my ignorance and naievite I state I simply do not believe it any more. It's bullshit. One hundred percent Grade A horse hockey.

The days of "He's TOAST" are over. The heady times of "We're back in charge so THINGS ARE GONNA HAPPEN NOW, OBOY" lasted all of one hundred hours. The moment of belief in the possibility of ending an unjust, bloody war has been flung back into our collective face, hidden no less by a deceptive parliamentary trick devised by OUR OWN PEOPLE.

They simply do not care. They do not recognize that it is WE who signs their paychecks. They do not acknowledge that WE are their employers. They do not care that it is OUR nation they are helping to send into utter chaos.

Which is why I tell them now to pay attention. I am only going to say this once, but I say it with all seriousness and damn it, I refer to the Democrats AND the Republicans.

Listen up. It's coming down to this.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

— That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed,

— That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.

But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.

NOW do you understand? We The People are serious about America. We are also serious about you and your inactions. We understand that inaction IS action, and for you to go against the principles we hired you to uphold is to PISS US OFF.

And I'm getting pissed off.

Am I alone here?

No checks, no balances, no limitations, no rule of law as a restraint- a president who claims to be apart from that which he swore an oath to defend cannot any longer lay claim to that office.

Illegal wiretapping? Not a problem. Warrentless searches and secret arrests? Yeppir! Invading innocent nations? Okey dokey. Torturing children in front of their parents as an exercise in brute power? Checkaroonie.

What next? Special police patrols wearing skull symbols upon their collars and hats? Uniformed death squads roaming our streets, shooting innocent people at random? Hell, we're already seeing journalists being beaten half to death on the streets of Washington. It's only a small step to include other people in that elite group of martyrs.

This MUST be stopped. NOW. BEFORE Boy Blunder starts appearing upon the dais in self-designed uniforms. BEFORE his cadre of brown-shirts is taken off the leash.

Fortunately, there are signs and portents of higher-ups beginning to understand what their part in this cavalcade of greed and corruption hath wrought. The spotlight is on THEM now, and we're seeing person after person with that deer-in-the-headlights look on their slack-jawed faces. They're starting to realize we still have the power, and we're serious about using it. The sleeping giant is stirring and will soon fully awake. Washington D. C. is about to feel the wrath of We The People. And it's about damned time.

Remember, Mr. President Dictator: Tyrants fall. Inevitably. Violently. Take a quick look at your brethren: Julius Caesar was knifed in the back. Rafael Trujillo was shot to death in a coup attempt. Adolph Hitler at least had the ball to swallow poison instead of waiting for capture. Mussolini was hung in the city square by the people he tried to crush. Chauchescu was shot on the wall as he cursed his killers.

That's a short list, and one that is by no means complete. It's merely a real-life illustration of the usual fate of tyrants.

And you're a tyrant, George W. Bush. Youbetcherass you are. You're sick. You're insane. You're a drug-soaked, addle-pated, sub moronic chimpanzee with delusions of humanhood. You're a DICTATOR, surrounded by sycophants who whisper into your ear like Wormtongue, egging you on toward the next inevitable steps of your fate- excuse me. Your "destiny".

Such as it is.

Remember the law you scorned when your people arrest you and put you behind bars for the remainder of your miserable life, Mr. Dictator. Please beg for the rule of law to be applied to your case. Please have your lawyers plead according to the laws you tossed aside. As you stand in the dock at the Hague, remember all the laws you ground into the dirt as you maimed, tortured, and ordered killed all those soldiers and innocent people. Remember what is is you threw away, and ask yourself exactly why it should now be applied to you.

Fortunately, it WILL be applied to you. In spite of your efforts, the rule of law DOES still exist here in The Land Of The Free. And I will be the first to stand and insist you be tried according to the law, as is your absolute right. A right you've so viciously denied so many others. Because I was born into and have lived my entire life within a framework of laws, and I'm not ready to cast them aside even for a war criminal. Not even for a tyrant. Not even for a mass murderer. Not even for a dictator. Not even for George W. Bush.

You sonofabitch.