Too Big For His Britches

The title "Lord Black of Crossharbour" cause people to take a second glance and wonder, "Lord who? Crossharbour. Is that in Maine?"

Becoming a Lord was an eventful journey for Conrad Black, a Canadian born non-royal. He was a descending peg in a merger between the upper echelon generational lattice. Hermes, the Greek god of wealth and thievery, surely must have sprinkled blessings on the babe.

Grandpappy Black was a successful proprietor of breweries. Later inherited by Conrad's dad, they were aggrandized into an international conglomerate. From his maternal line, Conrad's great grandfather was a founder of Great-West Life Assurance Company. Ka-ching! But even with all that majestic silver-spoon genealogy, Conrad could not inherit the royal title he coveted.

As a young adult, Conrad opted to walk in the shoes of his great, great grandfather, a co-founder of the London Daily Telegraph. Apparently Conrad saw visions of great grandeur and began purchasing small newspapers. Within a relatively short time he amassed a remarkable holding. During his thirty's he inherited valuable stocks which gave him the boost to create Hollinger International of Delaware USA and the Hollinger corporation of Canada. International became owner of hundreds of newspapers throughout five countries, including several in the United States. It even bought the Daily Telegraph.

Although the powerful Hollinger companies could not convey royal title they acted as a conduit for Black's goal, as well as the demise of it. To his Canadian status he added English citizenship, Hermes continued to distribute his endowment, and Conrad set out to find a title befitting a kingdom ruler.

A British Peer Lord is a title that carries with it the position of law maker. It occurs only by appointment of the Queen acting upon the recommendation of her Prime Minister. Tony Blair recommended that Black be made a Lord. The appointment was a sure thing in England, but Conrad and the Canadian Prime Minister had bad blood between them. Conrad had often published ink which scorched the Minister, who now delighted in defeating the intended appointment. Tit for tat.

More than a little annoyed, Conrad sued his antagonist to force withdrawal of the Canadian objection. After spinning his wheels, he failed to gain any legal ground. Finally, the Canadian courts poured him out once and for all. Only one avenue was left. Black relinquished his Canadian citizenship. The Minister waived good riddance and danced with joy as his former hostage was anointed English Lord.

Two years later Conrad retired from International amid nasty allegations that he had skimmed millions. A theft lawsuit was filed. The United States Securities and Exchange Commission then took a look. A fraud suit was filed. Awakened, Canadian investors were missing four billion dollars. Another theft suit was filed. The god of theivery surely was pleased, but for Conrad it was all downhill.

United States Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald sunk his teeth right in the middle of the hot bed of finger pointing. At the end of 2005, he came up for air and slapped Conrad with a sixty page indictment which charged him with fraud, racketeering, money laundering, and obstruction of justice.

Things got hairy for Lord Black after his partner-in-crime took a plea and sang the canary snitch tune. Fitzgerald's grip tightened when Conrad's former Canadian company also cut a deal. The song now playing was a duet. It was looking pretty dismal for the Lord, who seemed to be pretty much an island unto himself. Well, except for the current Lady Black, formerly English conservative writer Barbara Amiel for whom Conrad had dumped his Canadian wife and mother of his children.

The Lord's trial began in March this year and ended on Friday the 13th. The all American jury deliberated for twelve days and convicted the English Lord for mail fraud and obstruction of justice. On December 10th, he could be sentenced up to thirty-five years in prison. Worse, he will be stripped of his title and of course, so will her Ladyship. Mama Black's sweet revenge. They'll just be a plain 'ole Jack and Jill again-- or rather Con and Babs. It was a long way to fall though.

Oh, by the way. Crossharbour is an England subway station.


© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

It's All Over But The Crying

At first it looked like a short-lived lawsuit that was filed last Wednesday in Houston because it was dismissed the following day. Then it was re-filed in Austin. It is a wrongful death suit against a Judge from the highest Texas criminal court.

The widow of Michael Richard alleges that Texas Court of Criminal Appeal Judge Sharon Keller guaranteed the death of her husband by directing the court clerk to close down shop at five o'clock sharp. The widow isn't alone in her outrage toward Keller. Disgust has been voiced by other judges, attorneys, and citizens throughout the nation. Keller, who doesn't come up for re-election until 2012, could be in scalding hot water with the Texas Commission on Judicial Conduct.

A complaint signed by three hundred attorneys has been filed with the Commission and another petition is circulating that has already acquired over thirteen hundred signatures.

Judges enjoy a lot of flexibility as leaders of the legal world to start, stop, and complete their sworn tasks pretty much as they please. Just the same, there are boundaries. Judges are the chosen ones entrusted to safeguard the people. All the people. Even scums.

Michael Richard wasn't the sort of fellow most people would invite home to share their peas and carrots. In 1986, he was paroled on convictions of burglary, vehicle theft, and forgery. Two months later he raped and murdered Marguerite Dixon in Hockley and twenty-one years later he met his own destiny with the Needle of Justice.

Few people would debate that Judge Keller has been slamming doors on criminal appeals since 1991, the year she took office. For better or for worse, she has lived up to her tough-on-crime platform.

Mid-morning on the day Richard was scheduled for an out-of-body experience, the United States Supreme Court announced that it would take a look at whether lethal injection is cruel and unusual punishment under the Eighth Amendment of the constitution.

As a practical matter that meant death row inmates confined in States using lethal injection were likely to receive temporary stays of execution. Richard was no exception and his attorneys set out to cash in his chip but were delayed when a computer went on the blink.

Historically, Texas Judges have accepted last minute requests until either a stay of execution is issued or the inmate is executed. Richard's counsel alerted the clerk that all necessary documents would be delivered twenty minutes after five.

Upon learning that our highest court in the nation was to weigh the execution method, Texas Court of Criminal Appeal Judges expected Richard to seek a temporary stay. That was particularly true for nine year veteran Judge Cheryl Johnson who was the presiding judge over Richard's case. Johnson remained at the court ready to accept late filings. Other judges were also at the court and Judge Cathy Cochran, a no nonsense jurist, had made herself available by telephone.

Unknown to all of those judges, Keller directed the clerk to reject Richard's documents. So, the place got locked up tighter than a jug; Keller left to enjoy her evening; and Richard got the poison.

The Judicial Conduct Commission is comprised of a City Judge, Justice of the Peace, County Judge, District Court Judge, two attorneys, and two non-lawyer citizens. The review panel could dismiss charges or levy sanctions against Keller including booting her from office.

Although none of the other Criminal Court of Appeal Judges will sit on the panel, some are likely to testify whether Keller's circumventing usual procedure and bypassing the case presiding judge violated Judicial Canons which required her duties be performed free from bias.

Widow Richard may not reap dollars from her private lawsuit but the suit can be an extremely effective avenue to gather evidence against Keller. The evidence can then be made available to the powerful review panel. If that is the plan it is a well orchestrated war and Keller should give some thought to flipping burgers for a living in her family-owned eatery.

It will take time to resolve the predicament. Nevertheless, notwithstanding that Keller or a killer may be undeserving of a fair process, under the grace of our constitution each are entitled to one.



© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

The Hibachi Union

Almost all adults like kids and most kids like adults. There are a few in both groups that leave the remaining mixture wondering.

Parents are awed by their offspring. As they study the developing marvel, they acquire a complex belief that they created the genius of all geniuses. Move over Einstein.

To them it was earth shattering when from the first day, the little person wrinkled his nose, got red faced, and exhibited total control over his environment. The amazement continued post-toddler era. The small fry may not be able to add or subtract but there is a great deal of pride over his ability to burp loudest and spit farthest. Father's prodigy, no doubt.

Middle school clothing designs tend to threaten a parent-child rift but it levels off during high school after mom joins in the fashion goofiness. Pink hair should only be allowed for poodles, not humans, and blue hair should be restricted to women over ninety.

As the young adult blasts his way through college, the parents continue their journey down Maturity Road. Eventually, child becomes parent. And that is how grandparents are made.

Conversations with a grandparent are one way down a two way street. A grandparent tells you up front he isn't bragging, then starts the big one.

Likely at that precise moment ears deafen and interest is feigned with that "are you kidding?" raised eyebrow plastered across frozen faces. Grandparents really think others are, or should be, intensely interested in words the two year old can say; how spectacular the five year old is that stands on her head to sing the National Anthem; and how many perfect conduct marks the seven year old received. (What do you expect at seven years old, anyway?)

A visit to a Japanese Steakhouse to satisfy sushi craving focuses the parent-child-grandparent cycle. (Somewhat like the tobacco companies, the Japanese failed to mention sushi would become an addiction. And, have you seen the price? A tank of gasoline is cheaper than a few tiny pieces of raw fish. The word is: invest in fish, forget oil.)

A hibachi meal experience is unique. It is similar to attending a family reunion, except with total strangers. Maybe not such a bad idea? There is the polite nod as you pull your chair back far enough to slide into it. Soon the soup arrives followed by the salad. During those courses eyes are glued to the people who brung you. When the sushi arrives there is an air of excitement by some and a look of "I'm gonna gag if you eat that in front of me" by others.

The hibachi family ties deepen as the dinner progresses. Suddenly, out of the darkness there is an explosion of fire which erupts from an onion-ring volcano (quickly converted manually into a choo-choo). Cheers and claps break the ice for the table of nomad diners. When the hopeful Iron Chef tosses a lone grilled shrimp on junior's plate, all spectators align in shear delight and gramps chases the next one with his mouth hinged wide-open.

All who share the hibachi table are expected to appreciate the dazzle of a grandchild. A grandmother can easily set the stage for entrapment by first describing her lineage to the outsiders. Gramps, who sometimes goes too far by including a note about Cousin John who did a little jail time, fills in gaps with details about milestone accomplishments by the grandchild.

One evening a very nice couple found themselves in just such a situation. The man asked the child, "Can you count to ten?" Shyly, the child responded with a soft "Okay" then bowed his head. Silence followed. Grandmother smugly rescued the moment by suggesting the child probably needed to know which language was preferred.

What the? This kid is 4-years old? The man decided to play along but couldn't help himself from an "Oh, yeah, sure!" type of chuckle. He said, "Well, you must be a real smart little chap. Why not try, hum, oh say, Spanish or how about Japanese? Maybe Italian?"

Without missing a beat the child replied, "Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez."

The evening wound down in conversational ease. The couple, who had gained a distant relative status, bestowed proper praise. They began gathering their belongings and exchanging farewell wishes. Grandchild, whose timidity had long before been replaced with a familiar boldness which was likely inherited from gramps, shouted out after them, "Sayônara, Sir!" "Ciâo, Ma'am!"

Offspring. Awesome.



© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Dirty Money Or Chump Change?

Prison is a desolate place to tread life or mark time waiting on death but it is home to thousands of Texans. The Texas prison system has a history as wriggly as a King Cobra hunting supper. Bone chill fear can't be grasped unless peering out from the inside.

Three prison squares a day is not what it's cracked up to be. It doesn't compare to a cruise ship smorgasbord that is replete with identifiable succulent delicacies like Sevruga Caviar, Chateaubriand, or Honey Crème Anglaise.

Food loaf is a prison creation which is repulsive to sight, smell, and taste. The loaf includes whatever is in, around, or near the kitchen. Few inmates have the stomach to ask what's in it and instinct alerts that the mass is not a Roman Holiday. The mystery glob is formed into loaves then baked. As bad as it is though, food loaf is a far cry better than VitaPro.

Prison existence isn't easy street. It is basic survival twenty-four sevens where food is the only tonic for many ills. Isn't it a given that a hungry person is an angry person and anger breeds violence?

James Anthum Collins was the Executive Director of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice for many years. He worked his way up through the ranks. His eventual requested resignation resulted in his involuntarily, voluntary departure.

Accusations had arisen that Collins and a dude by the name of Yank Barry, a Canadian who had a not-so-legitimate history, became too chummy. Collins circumvented State agency purchasing law via quasi-legal manipulation and contracted for TDCJ to purchase seventeen to thirty-nine metric tons of VitaPro per month at an estimated cost exceeding forty million dollars. Further, by using the endorsement of TDCJ, VitaPro was marketed to incarceration facilities in California, Iowa, Maryland, Nebraska, New York, and Pennsylvania.

Collins also authorized Barry to roam prison units and have his own TDCJ identification card to flash at inquiring minds. Rumors soon surfaced that for a stout fee Barry and his associate had arranged for the escape of an inmate. The rumbling snagged the attention of the notorious Texas Rangers.

In January 1998 Collins was indicted for bribery, theft, money laundering, and conspiracy. He was looking at a potential fifty years confinement which is pretty much life when your starting age is mid-life.

The cornerstone for the prosecution was VitaPro former associate Patrick Graham. Three years earlier Graham's attorney daughter had incorporated Collins' consulting business, Certified Technology Consultants (CTC). Soon afterward Barry began depositing funds into the corporate bank account which Collins then withdrew. It turned out to be a snafu for Collins when his own records proved he was still employed by TDCJ at the time he received the funds which some folks perceived to have been kickbacks.

As Collins withdrew the CTC funds, his personal financial accounts ballooned. At trial his explanation why his personal accounts enjoyed unprecedented growth was that he had always been a "voracious change saver." If so, Collins' timing for depositing his pennies, nickels, and dimes into his bank account was really, really bad.

After years of investigation and delay, a trial finally happened and Collins was convicted by a jury in August 2001. While the government still celebrated victory after the lengthy process to bring forth justice, Federal Judge Lynn Hughes cried foul.

The number one trouble with a government turncoat is simple. They all have an odor. Graham, a con artist of sorts, had been involved in multiple shady business dealings and when the IRS was about to permanently slam shut his prison door, he fed the G-men "intelligence" which enabled them to secure multiple convictions, including Collins and others. Graham was so in demand he was the government's fair haired star witness in both Texas and Louisiana. And, it seems the prosecutors had not been forthcoming about just how sweet Graham's deal was.

Judge Hughes didn't seem taken by Graham's credibility nor the prosecution coyness. To make matters worse, the court reporter failed to provide a complete transcript of the trial. Four years after the jury found Collins guilty, Judge Hughes set aside the verdict and decreed Collins not guilty.

The prosecution stopped celebrating long enough to appeal Judge Hughes' ruling. The Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals reversed the acquittal, and Collins gets a new trial instead. A pre-trial hearing is set for October 22nd. Stay tuned.

The prison stopped serving VitaPro because, among other things, it caused intestinal problems. Wonder whatever became of the warehouses filled with VitaPro. Your taxpayer dollars at work.

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

What Happened To Good Ole Culligan Men?

Cognitive learning deals with perception, reasoning, and judgment. Memorization is a key element to surviving, socializing, and parenting. It is a skill pounded into young brains. Children suffer through multiplication tables, categorizing U. S. Presidents, and reciting States. Eventually value is recognized for committing information to memory so as not to compromise it.

Brain power is complimented by personality, temperament, intellect and education. A balanced formula is preferable but often is off. Having a lot of brains with poor reasoning can reek havoc. On the other hand, a strong intellect accented by random good judgment and a charming personality can also have dreadful results.

It could be judgment or personality that drives a person to keep detailed records rather than committing information to memory. Or, it could be a requirement imposed by an unindicted business partner.

The United States of America indicted Army Major John Cochran, his wife Melissa, and Carol Blake for bribery, conspiracy, obstruction of justice, and money laundering.

Last week the Judge entered a gag order, which prohibits access to information, because there is an on-going investigation that may produce additional criminal charges against these defendants, other persons, or both.

The charges originate from Major Cochran awarding contracts to supply bottled water to U.S. troops in Iraq and Kuwait. The Major and his wife, who married in 1986, are now in their early forties and parents of three children who need parenting for at least the next sixteen years. They called San Antonio home for the last four years.

The Major is number fifteen of seventeen children and was reared in Louisiana. He earned a Master degree in business procurement from Webster University. Melissa Cochran holds a Master degree from Central Michigan University. She was honorably discharged from the Army in 1999; is currently unemployed but receives disability income for a service-related injury.

A few days ago, both the Major and his wife were denied release from jail pending trial. The Magistrate found that it was more likely than not that no conditions of bond will reasonably assure their appearance at trial. The bottom line was the Major and his wife are both seen as flight risks because of their past world-wide travel and the possibility that they could finance a permanent absence from the United States. Trial is scheduled to begin October 22nd.

Blake is the Major's sister. Her profession used to be school teaching. The Magistrate put her on a short leash to her home near Fort Worth pending trial and in the meantime instructed her not to communicate with the Major, his wife, Kuwait contractors, and others. Likely, the sibling bond is a bit stressed at this point anyway and she won't miss the family camaraderie.

In December 2006, a search was made of the Cochran home which turned up support to gain a federal indictment. The indictment asserts while in Texas, Kuwait, and the United Arab Emirates the daring trio defrauded the United States. If the Government proves the case, it will show the Major maintained a rigged bidding system which guaranteed a contract would be awarded to a contractor who first shared monetary blessings with him.

According to the government, while hubby was busy making deals, wife fulfilled her chosen duties by traveling abroad establishing safe deposit boxes and bank accounts, then dropping large sums of doe-re-mi into them.

An Army Special Investigator described that around 2005 the Major began a treasure map of sorts by logging his good fortune in detail, including who, what, when and where. It might be family tradition, genetics, memory fatigue or the reflection of a common plan but Sis began her own style of logging which employed code language that itemized her activities and financial collections.

The charges claim the trio engaged in a cover up after the December search when the Major directed his crew to destroy remaining documents, lie about money sources, and create documentation. Sis took him at his word, say the feds, and tried to peddle her sudden financial gain as generous donations for her ministry work. It wouldn't be surprising to learn prayers are on the rise.

Along with some bar time, the feds are hoping to recover about $9,600,000 from the Major and have a sneaky suspicion that part of it was invested in San Antonio real estate. There is also an assertion the Major was looking forward to receiving $5,400,000 more. A recovered ledger is said to illustrate how Melissa Cochran received over two million dollars cash.


© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Keep An Eye on John Ellis Bush, Jeb That Is

A couple of weeks before leaving office as Florida's two-term governor, after death row inmate Angel N. Diaz suffered a botched execution where it took two lethal injections and upward of a half hour for him to die, Jeb Bush suspended Florida's death penalty.

That brought controversy but Jeb was leaving anyway and conflict was not new to him. Historically he had undermined most progressive work. Stem cell research for instance. And there was his futile fantasy of teaching the Federal Judiciary a thing or two based on the Terri Schiavo private matter. A quick slap by a Federal Judge brought about Jeb's silence, abruptly aborted his mission, and underlined that he had mis-spent a hunk of Floridian tax payer money.

Since leaving office Jeb has been fairly low keyed in spite of his President brother and former President father putting in a plug or two along the way that the family throne should naturally pass to him through something akin to royalty bloodline. For now though the two have piped down about him.

Enter Tenet Healthcare Corporation. THC is a national health care provider that can't seem to stay far away from big time trouble. But when the going gets tough, really tough, hire the President's bro. Jeb and THC hitched up in April this year and he became one of ten members of the Board of Directors.

In 1997, THC owned 127 hospitals in twenty-two states and employed well over one hundred thousand people. It currently owns twelve hospitals in Texas alone. THC is a publically held company with a checkered past where confrontations with branches of the U.S. government is as common as a morning cup of coffee, less the sugar and cream.

The THC regional network design provides full medical care through specialty hospitals, outpatient surgery facilities, rehabilitation hospitals, psychiatric hospitals, long-term care facilities, and home health care agencies. A sort of one size fits all model so as to keep the doe at home.

Isabel Ayers, a Florida resident and former employee of the THC conglomerate, filed a federal qui tam lawsuit under the False Claims Act against THC. The Act authorizes that an individual can bring suit on behalf of the United States. The suit woke up the dozing Southern District of Florida United States Attorney. Once awakened, he downed a latte and hopped on as leader of the pack for the Ayers' prosecution team.

Providing medical services is big business. Mega dollars. According to Ayers, one THC home health care agency received Medicare reimbursement to the tune of up to three million dollars per month. Uh-huh, one facility; per month! No wonder THC can afford to pay its newly installed director a rumored sign on bonus, shares of stock, plus a half million a year for attending about thirteen meetings. Forget Las Vegas!

Ayers described how THC purchased home health care facilities for the purpose of channeling patients to hospitals also owned by it; employed home health care staffing agencies who also referred outside patients to THC hospitals; and took illegal profits through cost-shifting. According to Ayers, THC shifted operating costs from hospitals by filing false claims for Medicare reimbursement through the home health care facilities. Illegal Medicare funding was a financial stabilizer for THC hospitals.

THC saw sick or incapacitated persons with "Medicare Reimbursable PROFIT!" stamped on their foreheads. The scam worked so well that THC kept buying more facilities. It is the intersection where Financial Gain Avenue crosses Human Commodity Drive and the former Florida Governor's motive for the failed Schiavo mission is suspect.

Eventually, THC was forced to pay twenty-nine million dollars which was related to only four of its Florida owned facilities. Of course, THC didn't admit wrongdoing, but it did pay the money based on the allegations that it had submitted false statements about patients medical condition and eligibility for Medicare coverage, billed for service that were never provided, and provided services by unskilled, unlicensed or uncertified personnel.

THC has been embattled in other states, too, where it has forked out millions of dollars over accusations it paid physician kickbacks in return for the physician admitting patients to the THC owned hospitals. A cousin to insider trading. Additionally, the IRS has knocked at THC's door. The tangled web goes on.

Jeb has no experience directing health care facilities so what can he contribute to THC? High up connections.

What happened to patients who received shabby services or no services at all from THC facilities? Lost in the shuffle.

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Ookie The Bogeyman

Meet Ookie or Ron Mexico; "T"; P-Funk or just Funk for short; and "Q." They are an adventurous foursome who sported to make a buck or two, albeit by illegal wagering.

Also meet Jane, Magic, Seal, Zebro, Chico, Big Boy, Tiny, and Too Short. They are American pit bulls who were the objects of The Four's attention, which is not to say they were the objects of their affection.

There is one more group you should know about. CW#1, a Virginia resident, and CW#2, a North Carolina resident, two Cooperating Witnesses who used to be involved in the illegal dog fighting business and supposedly had the scoop on Ookie and the boys. Cooperating Witness is the Government's politically correct terminology for a rat or snitch.

Michael Vick, who is known as Ookie or Ron Mexico to some of his former friends, is in hot water. Scalding hot, that is. A young guy with a promising future, in 2004 Vick signed a ten-year contract with the Atlanta Falcons worth a hundred and thirty million dollars. During the first two years he took about forty-four mil out of it. The rest of the money and his football career were up in the air while he quarterbacked against the U. S. Government and State of Virginia. It should be noted that Vick who weighs upward of two hundred pounds is nevertheless grossly out weighed by his current opponents.

T, P-Funk, and Q bailed on Ookie. Each grabbed hold of the hope for a lighter federal sentence when the government passed the plate their way. As part of their plea agreements they stipulated that a series of transactions occurred between themselves and Ookie which involved illegal bets, fighting pit bulls, and Ookie financing the venture. Surprisingly, the statements reflect that profits taken from the Bad Newz Kennels dog wins were not shared with Ookie.

The Feds turned an ear toward Ookie to see if he wanted to jump into the growing pot of Mulligan stew and cop a plea too or go it alone. They waited rather impatiently on Vick's decision Monday as the Grand Jury considered more charges against him under the racketeering anti-mafia statute. That statute has teeth as big as Too Short, packs more power than Zebro, and out shines Jane's prestigious victory record. The original two cooperating witnesses quickly multiplied to five. Vick found himself between a rock and a hard place with no place to go.

The crux of the federal accusation was that Vick bought a piece of Virginia land for the illegal purpose of breeding, raising, and training pit bulls to fight. Standing next to the feds was the State of Virginia who was also rattling its saber toward Vick. As for the Falcons, they are playing ball and trying to pretend that Vick never existed.

So, what's the big deal? A guy buys a piece of secluded land to hatch some pups. That isn't against the law until you add in the purpose for buying and developing the land as well as the reason for breeding and training the dogs. Toss in a wager or two, make a few phone calls to promote fight-to-the-death contests, then drive the bow-wows across State lines. There you have it. Regardless how big the purse was the real game was lost.

The evidence mounted against Vick which showed that he participated in destroying eight dogs who had failed to perform to standard. According to the singing canary trio, the execution methods included shooting, hanging and electrocution.

Gladiator amusements are old pass times which date back to at least the Roman Empire and the current outrage over the torture of poorly performing hounds seems a bit off key. If the Terrorist Surveillance Program was applicable to canines the same as it is to foreign detainees of the United States, electrocution might not even be classified as torture. Still, two wrongs don't make a right and cruelty to humans or animals should not be tolerated by any civilized society.

Vick didn't escape the government straight jacket. He is scheduled to eyeball Federal Judge Henry E. Hudson for the purpose of admitting his guilt.

When freedom sets in again, perhaps Ookie should consider obtaining employment guarding detainees at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba where he could boldly exercise the full authority of the United States and satisfy his odd hankerings at the same time.

There is not a presumption of innocence for moral wrongdoings and the injuries inflicted by The Four cannot be undone.

Coninc. dba TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Reality May Start With A Long-Shot Dream

A major turning point for American women is symbolized by Susan B. Anthony. Legal equality has progressed since she stood on city streets with her suffrage groups and lectured. Anthony was proud of, and believed in, all womanhood. Her humanity was reflected by her support of anti-slavery. After the victory that resulted in constitutional amendments which vested black men with the right to vote, she was unstoppable in finding a similar avenue for women. As a co-publisher of "The Revolution" she used the power of the pen to demand equal treatment for women and spent more than a couple of nights in jail because she attempted to vote -- just like the guys. We know the rest of the story is that women came to embrace that right through our nineteenth constitutional amendment, but Anthony never saw her dream accomplished. Still, our world is fortunate that she dreamed so outlandishly.

It is less often now when we are confronted by the unyielding rationale that a woman can't be an effective leader only because she is a woman. Or another way to put the same principle is to reference that a particular woman is an exception because she is successful. Perhaps the entire world will continue to relax the time-worn concept and allow it to dissipate back into nothingness. How "Anthony" it would be to know that a woman is welcome to serve in the government of Saudia Arabia or that no living person could recall gender bigotry. Preposterous!

A humorous perspective was given by Texas' beloved Ann Richards at the 1988 Democratic National Convention. "After all, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels."

A few weeks ago Pratibha Patil was elected the first woman President of India. That is impressive because she is both a woman and seventy-two years old. When most folks are thinking about kicking back and licking a lifetime of wounds, Madam Patil brings to mind the Energizer Bunny. She just keeps on going and has now emerged herself in a new career. In fairness, however, it should be mentioned that she is twelve years younger than the male missile scientist whom she ran against.

Female leadership is not new to India. Indira Gandhi was the first woman Prime Minister. She followed in her father's political footsteps and had been greatly influenced by Mohandas Gandhi who taught non-violent resistance. It was common for her to visit him in prison. Motivated in part by her own imprisonment, she pursued her life as a political leader.

Prime Minister Gandhi brought controversy, nothing new to India, and was not one to be toyed with. She maintained her position through four terms before a court decreed she had occupied it by violating election law. Unbending, she refused to heed the judiciary, declared a state of emergency, and suspended all civil liberties. She then methodically imprisoned those who had spoken against her reign. Her near twenty year rule ended when she was assassinated.

In her own kitchen Golda Mier destroyed barriers by serving high ranking political officials using her casual, no nonsense hosting style. Golda was foreign born but reared in Wisconsin. As a young adult she immigrated to Israel where she began her climb and eventually served as prime minister.

These women are not exceptional as women but are extraordinary people. They seem to have in common the drive to speak and be heard as well as the skill to do so. Each of them appear to have learned a great deal from their worthy opposition.

Violeta Barrios de Chamorro, the first Nicaraguan female president carried her political torch through her family-owned newspaper. She ousted President Daniel Ortega who has since been re-elected and is the current leader.

In 2005, Dr. Angela Merkel was elected as the first Chancellor of Germany. She also has now headed the G8 summit, only the third woman to do so, which represents approximately sixty-five percent of our world economy.

Women in politics has become a more common topic both within and outside the United States and it seems only the sky is the limit. Han Myung-sook, the former Prime Minister of South Korea, resigned a couple of months ago. There is speculation she will announce her presidential candidacy this coming December. Victoria Woodhull was the first woman to run for U.S. President. One hundred and thirty-five years later Hillary Clinton sprints for the same goal.

It is the right to compete that calls for the celebration!


© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Gay Paree

Every day is a new beginning albeit a continuation of yesterday and the day before and so forth. Today brings hope, confidence, and fresh ideas-- the opportunity to re-label a mistake or two, and even three or four.

The name Paris once brought to mind the capital of France along with crème brulée, visions of opera, romance, the River Seine, and high fashion. There are memories of chatter from sidewalk cafes, aroma of baking pastries, and the Louvre which houses magnificent art.

The Eiffel Tower was erected as the main attraction for the 1889 World's Fair. A bit out of place where it stands, it was the most highly achieved architectural design for the time. A few years after the exposé, Victor Lustig gathered selected scrap metal dealers for a secret bidding allegedly to buy the Tower. He took cash from the highest bidder then immediately left the country but the scam worked so well he returned to Paris and ran it again.

Hitler ordered the Tower demolished. His order was intentionally overlooked. The Tower was used in the capture of double agent Mata Hari, also known as H-21, who was ultimately executed by a firing squad. It has survived torrent winds, lightning, and multiple fires and is as resilient as is the city in which it stands.

Two years before the tower was erected Conrad Nicholson Hilton, Sr. was born far from The City of Light in a territory now recognized as New Mexico, U.S.A. After he gained his education and did a minimum stint in the military, Hilton moved to Texas and bought a hotel in the small east Texas town of Cisco. Following that success, Hilton established a hotel in El Paso.

Putting folks up for a night or two must have been pretty good business because Hilton's hotel chain rather rapidly grew on an international scale. Although Conrad Hilton may have lacked the luster that northern France offered, his great-granddaughter is as shinny as was his first silver-dollar.

Paris Hilton has a rich daddy and good looking mama who would be at wits ends except they had the wherewithal to have employed publicists who promise historical rewriting will make Paris beloved in most American homes. Not to suggest the penned charm could lack success, but it's likely the publicists got their fee paid up front.

It surely shouldn't strike anyone odd that Paris would venture beyond the family fortress but photographs of her show little restraint about what she is willing to share with the multitudes and it isn't fish and loaves. Re-writing that history will challenge creativity.

As a bad break would have it, Paris got thrown in the county hotel by a dogmatic city judge on the urging of a crazed city prosecutor. Each apparently thought they could right universal wrongs by putting a choke hold on the Hilton family. They declared complete exacerbation that Paris would drive with a suspended driver's license.

After the Judge sentenced Paris to forty-five days confinement there was a short-lived tug-o-war with the local sheriff offering her a helping hand in a sanctioned escape. Facing contempt charges himself, the Sheriff cried uncle, bowed to the judge, and sent his deputies to apprehend Paris.

The city prosecutor, enraged that his excellent work had been tampered with, encouraged the judge to grant Paris no mercy, which he didn't. Instead, he tossed her back in the hoosegow.

Inmates who are incarcerated for serious offenses often claim their jail experience was the catalyst for getting right with the world -- a typical result from a prolonged lack of choices. Paris may be the first to have undergone such metamorphosis due to a suspended license offense.

So far as the city prosecutor is concerned, during Paris' incarceration there was substantial criticism lodged against him and an ethics commission may soon review his own personal and professional history.

There is little doubt that the rich and famous have unique challenges that the less fortunate never encounter. It must have been reality shattering for Paris when someone said, "No!" and meant "No!" then enforced it. At age twenty-six it must have been down right heart breaking for Paris to say goodbye to her folks knowing she couldn't see them for almost twenty-four hours.

Paris has now shed bars and returned to life among chauffeurs and servants. Maybe a Paris sabbatical is in order but she is cautioned to avoid a prince called Paris who has superior knowledge about a Trojen Horse.

Bon voyage Mademoiselle Hilton.


© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

The Unraveling Of A United States Attorney General

It is troubling when the highest ranking law enforcement officer in America refuses to provide truthful and complete answers. Alberto Gonzales performed a pitiful Texas two-step before the Senate Judiciary Committee last week. Clouds of frustration rolled in as words took on icy forms. It looked like a Texas hail storm. Via his circular testimony, Gonzales met himself coming and going. The hearing began to look like Swiss cheese. He tunneled his way under, over, and around queries. When boxed in, the cat stole his tongue.

Attorney General Gonzales heads an agency the size of the city of Killeen. Unable to get a straight answer, Senators have now called for a perjury investigation.

At a previous hearing Gonzales denied knowing about the FBI violating the Patriot Act. Shortly afterward though it came to light that he had possessed written reports about it when testified.

A murky area surrounds Gonzales' earlier testimony there hadn't been serious disharmony within the Justice Department about the Terrorist Surveillance Program. TSP is the Bush program that allows for domestic evesdropping without prior court approval. However a couple of months later, Gonzales gave a press release that confirmed former Deputy Attorney General Jim Comey had dissented. Confronted, Gonzales urged that he had misspoken in his press release.

The next sticky item related to a meeting with now former Attorney General Ashcroft. Gonzales testified there had been an emergency meeting at the White House with leaders of congress. The hope had been to obtain legislation because Comey, then acting Attorney General, had refused to extend the TSP.

After that meeting, Gonzales went to visit Ashcroft who was in the hospital intensive care unit to urge him to override Comey's decision. At that time Gonzales was White House counsel.

Gonzales was asked, "Did anyone tell you to go [to the hospital]?" He dodged, "I'll just say that the Chief of Staff for the President of the United States and the Counsel for the President of the United States went to the hospital on behalf of the President of the United States."

Senator Arlen Spector didn't accept the rambling response. "Did the President ask you to go?" Gonzales replied, "I went on behalf of the President." Spector continued, "Why can't you answer that question? Did you talk to the President about it beforehand?" Gonzales responded, "Senator, obviously there were a lot of discussions that happened during that period of time."

Undaunting and moving forward Spector asked, "Did the Vice-President send you?" Gonzales gave his famliar answer, "Sir, we were there on behalf of the President."

Spector tried again to nail it down, "Did you talk to the Vice-President beforehand?" The Attorney General wouldn't budge. "We were there on behalf of the President," he said.

"Why can't you answer the question?" a frustrated Spector demanded to which Gonzales replied he would be happy to try to respond by letter.

Gonzales shied away from interchanging the terminology TSP and "other intelligence activities." In his responses, he split hairs. He admitted the meetings related to "other intelligence activities," but refused to admit or deny they related to the TSP.

However, there are accountings of those meetings from other people. Former Director of Intelligence Negroponte was forthcoming about discussion of the TSP. Additionally, current F.B.I. Director Robert S. Mueller has testified to the House Judiciary Committee the hospital meeting had indeed been about TSP.

Moving into another topic, one Senator noted that Judge Advocate Generals for all military branches had unanimously agreed that interrogation techniques which violate the Geneva Convention include: waterboarding, forced nudity, painful stress positions, threatening with dogs, and mock execution. Gonzales refused to take a position so Senator Dick Durbin focused him, "Would it be legal for a foreign government to subject a United States citizen to any of the five interrogation techniques?" In essence, our Attorney General refused to say that it is illegal for a foreign government to subject a United States citizen to those techniques in spite that is what the Geneva Convention holds.

Lastly, a surprise topic was introduced. Senator Sheldon Whitehouse asked, "What on earth business does the office of the Vice-President have in the internal workings in the Department of Justice with respect to criminal investigations, civil investigations, and on-going matters?" Although nearly at a loss for words, Gonzales replied, "As a general matter, Sir, that's a good question. I'd have to go back and look at this [memorandum of authorization]."

That brings this thought to mind. Who is running the Justice Department?

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

The Fat Lady Could Still La La La

On Monday, about five hours after the appellate court upheld Judge Reggie B. Walton's judgment that I. Lewis Scooter Libby could not pass go, could not collect $200, and must go straight to jail, your President commuted the incarceration portion of Scooter's criminal sentence.

In doing so, Bush announced that he was of the opinion that a two and one-half year prison term was excessive. Really, as compared to what?

Bush came close to legalizing Scooter's criminal acts, which includes conduct that constituted aggravated perjury as well as lying to the cops. George W. did take the teeth out of the bite. Or, more to the point, he took the truth out of justice.

The President's claim that his action only displaced the jury's verdict is insightful because it reflects that George W. doesn't have a workable understanding about the federal criminal system and more particularly, the sentencing protocol.

Never mind details though, what Bush did was substitute his unscholarly, raw conjecture in the place of educated expertise by The Honorable Reggie B. Walton, nominated by George W. for the federal bench in the first place, the United States Sentencing Commission and the United States Congress.

In 1984, Congress created the United States Sentencing Commission to promulgate appropriate sentencing guidelines grounded on deterrence, offender incapacitation, justice, and rehabilitation. Congress' goals were three-fold: honesty in sentencing, uniformity throughout the federal courts (treat same type crimes alike), and proportionality (treat same type crimes differently). Bewildered, yet?

The guidelines do not read like The Slammer For Dummies or a How To manual but are theoretically designed where connecting the dots correctly lead to a proportional, uniform, and honest sentence.

The guidelines system combine the letter of the law with equity, which are two age old opposing forces. Equity rounds off the sharp edges of the law. The guidelines utilize a Weightwatcher's type cut-the-fat point system to arrive at a punishment score.

The learned Commissioners who create and maintain guidelines include two U. S. District Judges; one former U. S. District Judge; the Sentencing Commission general counsel; a former White House associate counsel; a former Senate Judiciary Committee general counsel; a former Deputy Assistant Attorney General; a former assistant U.S. attorney; and Bush appointee U.S. Parole Commission Chairman. Not too shabby.

In assessing the sentence, Judge Walton was legally bound to adhere to the guideline range unless he found the case atypical. In that event, he could have departed upward or downward. He didn't. Scooter is just a typical liar. He got caught. He got convicted. Plain and simple.

At the time Libby committed multiple offenses he was employed as Assistant to the President of the United States, Chief of Staff to the Vice-President of the United States, and Assistant to the Vice-President for National Security Affairs. He had access to classified information about sensitive national security matters and was a senior government official with a high security clearance which equates to a bunch of power.

In exchange for the pay check he received from our tax money, Scooter owed a fiduciary duty to every citizen to conduct the affairs of our government with the utmost loyalty to the citizens. He was entrusted with his position for our benefit. Libby's duty of loyalty didn't run to the President, the Vice-President, or himself. He owed one hundred percent loyalty to "We the people."

Scooter had been a lawyer for a very long time when he voluntarily took his oath. At that time he understood it and the duties imposed on him. Nevertheless, he knowingly and intentionally breached them.

His past public service, even if perfectly pristine, does not explain, excuse, or rationalize Scooter's illegal conduct. His conduct was not isolated. He was convicted for more than a single offense.

In commuting the sentence, Bush expressed sympathy for Libby's family. He never mentioned Valerie Plame, the victim whose life Scooter knowingly risked and whose career he destroyed. His actions didn't injure Plame in a capsule. She has family and friends, too.

The hurt suffered by Libby's family is sad, but the suffering is due to Libby's clear and voluntary choices to violate the law. He put that ugly monkey on his family's back and the shame is his to own.

Don't be swayed that Bush merely commuted Scooter's incarceration as opposed to granting a full pardon. It ain't over until the fat lady sings.

Scooter's appeal will go forward and if the Court doesn't overturn the jury's convictions, the fat lady will "La La La La."

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Guilty! -- But A Long Time Coming

James Seale, a former Mississippi Deputy Sheriff, was at least a second generation member of the White Knights Ku Klux Klan when his path and those of Henry Dee and Charles Moore crossed.

1964 was a leap year. May 2nd was a typical lazy Saturday afternoon in a small southern town. Henry and Charlie were from the railroad town Roxie, out thumbing rides. They likely swapped dreams, teased about girls, and talked about the car they would buy when they got rich. At nineteen they had another seventy years to get life right. Seale was twenty-nine.

Henry and Charlie were ten miles from home standing next to the Meadville ice cream stand when Clyde and James Seale, father and son, drove past them. Neither Henry nor Charlie put out his thumb to ask for a lift.

After James dropped his dad off to get his pickup, he went back. He motioned for them to join him. The teens must have felt luck on their side as they thanked James for a ride and plopped down.

In the meantime, Clyde gathered associates. "Kiwu!" he shouted. (Klansman, I want you.) The response was immediate and included Clyde's son Jack, as well as neighbor Charles Edwards. Clyde was the Grand Cyclops, president, of the local den.

Soon into the ride Henry and Charlie sensed something was awry. James Seale enforced his control. "Looky jere, now. I's a G-man, a revenue agent. Been lookin fer whiskey stills. Bet ya'll seen thangs 'roun har." A surge of fear hit. "No, Sir. We's dunno nuttin. Canst you let us out now, Sir?"

"Ah, ya'll dun wanna be walkin out jher on that hot tar." Seale was playing cat and mouse. He reached for his walkie talkie radio and mumbled to someone in the pickup that was following, now carrying four men. The response was mostly static, but Seale said, "They's some mo G-men needin ta yak ta ya'll."

Seale turned into Homochitto National Forrest. His white Volkswagen bumped along, then stopped. While the boys got out, Clyde's pickup roared up and the occupants bolted toward Henry and Charlie. James Seale aimed his sawed off shotgun.

The klansmen accused Henry of being a Black Panther. Their evidence was that he had black skin, wore a black bandana, and had lived in Chicago. Charlie just had black skin.

Feeling certain that Henry knew guns were stockpiled, the klansmen tied them both to a tree and took turns hitting them with bean sticks. During the beatings, the klansmen laughed, mocked and tormented their prey. "Now, boy," Edwards chided in his southern drawl, "is ya'll right with the Lord?"

Desperate for them to stop, the teens fibbed that guns were stored in a Roxie black church. After each received about forty blows, the klansmen quit.

Henry and Charlie, flesh pulverized, were taken down. The Klansmen split up. Some took the mutilated boys to the Grand Cyclops' farm. Klansman Parker took off to Louisiana to get his red Ford. Edwards drove to the Franklin County Courthouse and picked up Sheriff Wayne Hutto to go search the black Roxie church.

At the farm, James Seale taped Dee and Moore's mouth. He bound their hands. Finally, Parker made it back in his Ford. James Seale lined the trunk with a tarp. The klansmen stuffed the teens inside. They left the farm and drove to Louisiana. When they opened the trunk, they were flabbergasted that both boys were alive.

Using a metal chain, the klansmen tied a jeep block and railroad rails to the teen's feet.

The Seale brothers boated Henry and Charlie out on the mighty Mississippi River, one at a time, using two of Parker's boats. On his last trip, James Seale asked, "Do you know what's fixin to happen to ya now, boy?" The teen whispered, "Yes." Seale shoved. The water splashed.

A month later a fisherman discovered body parts and five months after that, divers found one teen's skull. James Seale and Edwards were arrested that year but it was the deep South and the dead kids were black. All charges were dismissed.

Forty-three years after those boat rides the feds indicted James Seale. Last week a jury of eight whites and four blacks found 71 year old Seale guilty. In August, the black Judge will likely sentence Seale to life imprisonment which will be merciful compared to the cruel death Seale imposed on Henry and Charlie.

Edwards is legally free. He received immunity from prosecution in exchange for testimony.

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Scooter's Trump Card

He pardons him. He pardons him not. He pardons him. He pardons him not. Oh, that is the question.

I. Lewis Scooter Libby, who once was a magnificent magnate strutting about the White House, is now just a run-of-the-mill convicted felon. Or is he?

According to hundreds of Libby fans who wrote letters urging The Honorable Reggie B. Walton to be forgiving, merciful, and lenient on punishment, Scooter is, was, and has always been, a man of high integrity, loyal to America, and an all around good guy.

The other side of the coin was represented in the letter campaign as well. Those few people voiced a belief that lying is lying, perjury is perjury, and equal justice means Scooter did the crimes so he should do the time. Eye for an eye.

The maximum sentence that could have been imposed was to lock Libby up three years, which was the hope of prosecution albeit Scooter's team daydreamed about an itzy probated sentence.

Throughout the long judicial process of trial, conviction, and sentencing, Libby maintained his innocence and spoke in open Court only once. At sentencing he addressed the Court. In essence, Libby asked the Judge to give weight to his entire life as opposed to focusing on the few isolated events that had lead to his convictions. Sort of a blended projection.

Judge Walton is not any man's fool and apparently didn't take kindly to the suggestion that he trade perjury and obstruction of justice in exchange for Scooter's proclaimed past goodness. The Court ordered him to prison for two and one-half years. Libby's appeal of the jury verdicts will likely follow.

So, what would His Honor and the jurors think about a Presidential pardon for Libby should George W. feel so inclined? They might feel a sting but there isn't an ointment to heal or prevent it.

Our United States Constitution, Article II, Section 2, empowers the President of the United States to grant pardons. The only exception is that the President is not authorized to pardon in cases of impeachment. Otherwise, not even if a President possesses a bad motive in making the pardon can it be legislatively or judicially redressed.

Why would our forefathers have created such an unquestionable power in one person? That power is a vivid example of the independence of the Executive Branch of government. Check and balance is the foundation of a progressive government. A three-headed beast, each head biting at the other and tearing to be set free from the underlying unity is illustrative of our three independent branches of government: executive, legislative, and judiciary. It is that constant competitive struggle that insulates us from tyranny.

The first President Bush pardoned former Defense Secretary Weinberger and three CIA agents who had been involved with the Iran-Contra affair. Among other wrongdoings, Weinberger had lied about the transfer of missiles to Iran.

Jimmy Hoffa, the infamous Teamster President, received a conditional pardon from President Richard M. Nixon. Hoffa, who apparently failed to heed the wisdom of not looking a gift horse in the mouth, filed an appeal asking that the condition be lifted. The burdensome condition was that Hoffa didn't get to play teamster ever again. He had been often accused, and occasionally convicted, of dipping into the pension fund, tampering with jurors, bribery, and other ordinary corruption stuff. The few convictions had been long sought and hard to get, but with one word Nixon wiped Hoffa's slate clean. By the way, Hoffa's judicial challenge to the pardon condition disappeared soon after he vanished from the earth.

Thomas Jefferson used his authority to pardon those convicted under the 1798 Sedition Act (which comprised four separate laws). In spite of the fact that courts had upheld the constitutionality over ten times, Jefferson believed the Act unlawfully silenced criticism of government which was protected speech.

The government's tax levy on spirits to help offset the financial debt left over from the American Revolution brought uprisings, prosecutions, and convictions. President Washington later pardoned those convicted in the Pennsylvania Whiskey Rebellion.

Abe Lincoln and Andrew Johnson pardoned the Johnny Rebs in the name of reconstruction after the Civil War. The list goes on. There is Patty Hearst, Richard M. Nixon, Marc Rich, and the Vietnam draft dodgers.

Absent the jury verdicts being overturned through an appellate process, Libby can only regain his civil rights through a presidential pardon.

Who will give odds that Scooter's voting rights are restored to him before the next President takes office?

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

The Nature of Ism

The connection between Terrorism, Salamism and McCarthism goes far beyond just the ism.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a United States Senator from Wisconsin who went on a witch hunt looking for the evil hearted, otherwise known as communists. Before now, his mission could perhaps only have been likened to the hunt of a much earlier time in Salem, Massachusetts, the Salemism.

It has often been said that history repeats itself and the making thereof should be done by using great caution. Looks like caution has been thrown to the wind, again.

Twenty people were put to death in Salem and ten times that many were imprisoned. The source of the unusual and unexpected events appear to have been two young girl cousins who were prone to throwing violent temper tantrums. Recordation whether the tantrums were intentional or unintentional is lacking but it is of particular interest that it was common for onset to begin when each was forced to endure sermons delivered by the father of one of them.

Initially, indictments were urged against three women: a slave, a homeless lady, and a disgruntled ill-tempered soul. These creatures were throw aways and the Salem society was looking for a well-sanctioned and unquestionable avenue to do just that. The three shared a fate that consisted of looking, acting, and sounding differently from other people within the community and thus they were easy, lay-down targets for bigotry to be carried out in the name of protection and religion. Each of the hunted, and later haunted, stood accused of practicing their magic upon those two pure, innocent children. (After all, what other than the casting of a wicked curse would cause a nine year old to cover their eyes, kick their feet, and scream as loudly as their tender lungs permit during a Preacher’s preaching? What indeed.)

An accusation was easy enough to make and once made it carried the absolute right to effect torment on the accused. Anyone who had a problem with a neighbor, storekeeper, or barber could point a finger and whisper, “witch.” The power of that word carried more than magic and instantly transformed ordinary people into desperate individuals isolated from reasonableness and sanity. There isn't much to be said about the necessary level of evidence when the guilt was determined by weighting the accused with bricks or the like and dunking them in water to see whether they floated or sunk. If the accused drowned it was certain they had been innocent and wrongly accused. If the poor soul floated it was determined the accusation had been well-founded.

Senator Joseph McCarthy viewed communism as the ultimate evil which threatened our American society, sophisticated as it was in the early fifties. With almost unbelievable energy and zeal, McCarthy pursued and slaughtered reputations of innocent Americans who were only guilty of having exercised their constitutionally protected right to assemble together and pursue their guaranteed liberties. By nothing more than mere allegation with a he said, she said backdrop, McCarthy used his legislative position to stalk, capture, and destroy his prey. His tools included near endless badgering, bellowing, and psychological battering. Only after he reeked much havoc did the Senate finally discipline him.

This week a Military Court dismissed cases pending against two accused terrorists on the basis that the United States didn’t have jurisdiction to conduct a trial. These proposed terrorists have been captives of our government notwithstanding that we had no jurisdiction over them. So, how does the U.S. explain the detention of the two victims for a long period of time? Jurisdiction either is or it isn’t and if it isn’t, it never was.

The United States needs a system that protects citizens from terrorism to the equal degree that it provides legal remedies from non-terrorism acts, but it is unfair to subject anyone to humiliation, torture, and isolation based on their belief, skin color, and gender. Name calling, or label placing just ain’t right.

In any legal matter the first question a tribunal must settle is whether it has the authority to render justice. It isn’t a novel question. It is the very first basic question because if there isn’t any authority, there isn’t any authority. The tribunal can’t acquire what it doesn’t have. So, in this situation, why wasn’t that question asked and answered before these men were captured or not later than at the time of their capture? Or, was it? Ism.

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Ahoy, Matey!

Ahoy, Matey! Each September 19th is Talk Like A Pirate day so it is time to begin a bit of review. A pirating we go.

When we see the Jolly Roger skull and crossbones we know pirates are lurking. The flag began as the Roger and Jolly was added down the road.

All glamour aside with peg legs, eye patches, and hooks for hands, the scallywags did have missions, some legitimate and some down right illegal. Government employed pirates disabled enemy missions. Ultimately, all pirates robbed at sea and some even on land. Maybe they had a good side, too. Didn't they love parrots so much they let them sit on their shoulders? Eeeewwweee yuk.

By their loyal public, gentlemen o' fortune were both loved and cursed, as it remains today. Pirates even were able to recruit many of those they captured to become one of their own. (There is nothing quiet like joining up when the only other choice is decapitation.)

Blackbeard was famous because he was so ruthless and cuel. Maybe because he looked so ugly and scary, too. (If any one ever needed the talent of a hairdresser, it was Blackbeard.)

He will long be remembered for his ship Queen Anne's Revenge. After his modification, it sported forty cannons. Those were unavailable to him during a ferocious battle on another of his ships when the Royal Navy, led by Lieutenant Maynard, shot, stabbed, and beheaded Blackbeard. (He should have stayed with the cannons.) His headless, lifeless body was thrown overboard and legend has it that Blackbeard then swam around the ship before he sunk. His head found a less than comfortable place on the ship's bowsprit as a trophy for Maynard and his irrebuttable evidence to the world of his victory.

The names Henry Morgan, Black Bart and Captain Kidd give us plenty of cause to tremble in fear. But least we forget, the beloved Captain Hook lives on right next to our vivid memories of sweet Tinker Bell and boy forever Peter Pan.

There was even then, in the olden days, the great divide between male and female. Female creatures were forbidden from occupying pirate ships. It was a world for the guys; the early version of a Men's Only Club.

As the gender discrimination law was not yet written, women were left to their own devises (and disguises). The proclamation against seafaring women was short lived, however.

Adventure is indiscriminate when it calls. Anne Bonny and Mary Read are two of the most famous female pirates but there were others. All dressed in men's clothing and otherwise disguised themselves. Bonny and Read sailed with Calico Jack and fought equally beside their male counterparts. It is rumored that Bonny said Calico wouldn't have died if only he had fought like a man! (Now that is a tough talking lady pirate.)

Calico's ship was captured and after some type of trial (probably not by a fair and impartial jury), both Bonny and Read were sentenced to death. Then came the revelation that they were women and not only that, but pregnant women. Read later died in prison and Bonny's fate is unknown. She may be near, waiting to ambush.

Grace O'Malley was likewise a famous female pirate though she began life as the daughter of a legal sea merchant. Her father refused to let her sail with him so she shaved her head and dressed like her brothers. When she was discovered, she was called bald Grace and she later became known as Granuaile. In her youth she once saved her father from death by warning him of a pirate sneaking up from behind. Grown, Granuaile became a fine leader. She coupled her sea duties with rearing a family. In her more mature years she was sentenced to be executed but managed to evade that declared fate. She eventually was received as a guest by Queen Elizabeth.

Authors and screen writers keep Pirate legends alive and lively in the pages of books and on movie screens. The pirate business has never been so good as it is right now. Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End made a whopping $401 million dollars at the box office during the first six days of release. Not too bad, uh?

Yo-ho-ho. Don't be a lily-livered landlubber, Matey. Board a furner to avoid walking the plank at the direction of blind buccaneer Pew which would end you in Davy Jones' Locker while me hearty go to the Fiddlers Green.

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Twelve Year Humdrum

Here it is! Oh, yippeeee! The long awaited moment has arrived for which my wings often practiced. In spite of a few clips from time-to-time, my wings are in fine working order. Longer, stronger, steadier.

Fly where? Anywhere. Everywhere. Freedom from the twelve year humdrum has finally, at long last, arrived. Whew.

Soaring above my home town is like the coolest thing, ever. I can see the roof tops I climbed as a kid; the old shed out back; and the ever faithful hounds. Gosh, it feels so good to reach out and feel nothing. No restraints. No obstacles. No trash to carry out. No school to get up for in the morning. No more do this and do that. Just air. Sweet, sweet air. Cough.

What's that flying straight toward me? It looks like a funny, triangular thingy. Bam! Umph! "Why don't you watch where your flying that kite, mister?"

It's really quiet here. No cars and trucks riving their motors or babies crying for attention. A nice place. A really nice place. And best of all, it is my perfect place. No one can come on board unless I say so.

I think I'll sweep down on Mr. Jones, the mail carrier. He will be surprised to see me flap my wings.

"Mr. Jones! Hey, Mr. Jones!" I wonder if he really couldn't hear me or was just ignoring me. I'd never be a mail carrier. If I wanted to walk a hundred or so miles a day, I'd become a mom.

Screeeeeech! Geepers that was a low hanging electric wire. I'd call and complain but I can't interrupt my mission.

"Hellloooooo, Mrs. Franklin. Look up, I'm way up here." Heck, she probably thought my shadow was a giant eagle or something.

Wonder where all my friends are and what they're doing. Figured some would be out and about by now. Place looks kind of barren.

I'll drop by the old highschool just for a peek. That nutty 'ole Mr. Wooten is still at it. I don't suppose he will ever figure out that none of his pupils want to hear a word he says.

Aaahaa, there is Sam. "Hi, Sammy. Hi." Well, he just probably couldn't hear over the mumbles of those student zombies.

I'll just mosey on over to the coffee shop and see who is there. Ugh. I don't want to hear Mrs. Frasier say one more word about what she thinks I otta do when I grow up. What does she know, anyway? I've got it all together. This is what I want to do. Nothing. N-o-t-h-i-n-g.

Ho-hum, doing nothing is pretty tiring. I wonder where all the happenings are. What time is it, anyway? Holy smokes, I can't believe it isn't even noon yet.

What's that down there? Oh, a university. I'm not even going to slow down for school zones anymore. I've had it with everyone telling me what to do. I'm just gonna keep flying.

But wait. That looks like Ginny and Joanie. Whoopee, it is! There's Ralph, Waldo, and Taylor. "Hey, guys! Look up. Look up. It's me!" I'll hover a bit and see where they are going to hang. Then maybe I'll join up.

Classes, they all went to classes. "We don't have to do that any more, ya'll. We're smart enough now. Come on, guys. Flap your wings with me," I shout.

Nothingness is a big, colorless, odorless glob. So, that's it? A glob. I can't spend my days in a stupid glob.

A voice hummed "Martha?" I mumbled, "Yeah, what is it?" Mom stopped whistling long enough to say, "This is the final day for late enrollment at the university. Interested?"

My eyes are wide open as I slide from the same bed where my space trip had launched. "Yes, ma'am. I am. How many years does it take to get through the university?" Mom smiled, "Whatever it takes. You'll know when you are done."

"Ginny is on the phone," Mom said as she handed it to me. "Hello, Ginny?" I asked. "Hi, Martha. Are you going to enroll at the university today? I thought I saw you hovering like a cloud yesterday. What ya been up to, anyway?" "Been around, that's all," I mused.

"Martha, ya want to car pool with Joanie and me?" asked Ginny. "Oh, yeah, you bet I do. And Gin, whatever was hovering over your head, well, it couldn't have been me. Anyway, don't say that to anybody else 'cause it sounds really wacko."


© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Blow That Whistle and Get On Down The Road

This is Washington Whistleblower week. Does that make you wonder, "What the heck is that?" It is a celebration of sorts to acknowledge those former employees who got booted for being curious, discovering secrets, and refusing to keep the lid on it. So, America decided to throw a party for, ummmm, let's see how to put this, The Fired? Wow.

Having employment terminated carries a connotation of ugly comparable to green slime running off the hands down the elbow then slowly dripping to the floor and leaving big globs. The ugly is there regardless that efforts were for a good cause. The status of having been fired can leave a life time wound subject to external and internal lancing and probing. Even thirty years down the road, after public vindication, the uglies can be effectively used against the revealer.

After all is said and done, there may be acknowledgment that The Fired did a noble thing; saw darkness and shined light upon the multitudes. Nevertheless, that green goop is still in the skin crevices and under the finger nails. Green is permanent.

The U. S. House of Representatives no sooner had passed The Whistleblower Protection Enhancement Act of 2007 than the President sent word it would bite the dust via his veto, if necessary. So much for doing the right thing and living by principle.

Wolfowitz. Trouble in paradise. Internal email can be enlightening and it was when it illuminated the hullabaloo associated with the girlfriend of the World Bank President and her extraordinary bank staffer income. But now Wolfowitz claims it was the fault of the World Bank and his girlfriend that he okayed all of her raises as he bellows that the unconventional couple ganged up and forced him to nod his approval. Oh, please!

Jane Turner worked for the FBI over twenty-five years. When she refused to stop pointing out that the FBI had intentionally refused to correct its recordation that the sexual assault of a Native American child as a motor vehicle accident was more than a little off, she became a moving target. She dug in her heels, filed a civil rights suit, and a jury verdict underscored her actions as having been correct. The jury slapped the FBI but it looks like the same folks in the chain-of-approval for the misconduct in the first place remain in charge.

Cynthia Cooper shattered the silence governing WorldCom, then next to the largest national long distance telecom, when she yelled accounting fraud. Things hadn't looked right to her, so she looked again. Then she tapped the shoulder of a corporate superior, Scott Sullivan the Chief Financial Officer, who told her in no uncertain terms to shut up and mind her own business. She didn't. She pushed forward with Godspeed to unravel a scheme where through false categorization WorldCom turned millions of loss into billions of profit. Fancy, but keeping a second set of books isn't anything new. By the way, WorldCom didn't thank Cooper but it fired Sullivan who later was given a light criminal sentence in exchange for ratting out Bernie Ebbers, the big fish, who is now serving a twenty-five year federal sentence in Louisiana.

Enron. Enron. Enron. Sherron Watkins sent an email to Kenneth Lay which set out concerns about Enron's accounting methods. It began a saga of ramifications which resulted in numerous convictions. One interesting twist is that Lay's conviction had to be set aside by the Federal Judge because his chance to pursue an appeal was foreclosed by his death which may mean that his Estate assets can't be reached by the Federal Government. Lay's co-defendant, Jeffrey Skilling, is serving a twenty-four plus year sentence.

Jospeph Darby forced awareness of detainee torture at Abu Ghraib which included rapes and murders. It was bone chilling to learn American captors had run amuck from our national moral values.

A remarkable whistleblowing clandestine strategy was utilized by Mark Felt a/k/a Deep Throat. Of course, we would expect nothing less from the former number two guy at the FBI. Felt whistled Dixie to Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein about illegal activities involving the White House. The publications eventually led to the resignation of President Richard Nixon and criminal convictions for Haldeman, White House chief of staff, and Ehrlichman, Presidential adviser.

Remember: pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered, and living high on the hog can be costly. Whistleblowers are watching, listening, making notes, and chattering. So, watch your step and avoid the green goo.

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Quest For Truth

“Stop shooting! Stop shooting! Friendly! Cease Fire! I am Pat . . . Tillman," the former Army Ranger and NFL player repeatedly shouted before two bullets exploded his brain. It was Afghanistan, April 2004.

It's easy enough to say friendly fire even though the word friendly sticks in the craw. But the Army concocted a fish story that Hans Christian Andersen would have thought imaginative.

The Army portrayed that Pat lost his life leading a charge against the enemy. It even awarded the Silver Star, a medal given for one who died at enemy hands.

Over a month later a news reporter telephoned Mary Tillman, Pat's mother, and asked her what she thought of the military news release. "What are you talking about?" she probed. Hesitantly the reporter informed, "The military has come to the conclusion that Pat was probably killed by friendly fire."

Kevin and Pat, brothers, served in the same platoon. Kevin didn't reunite with his platoon until it returned from Afganistan. At about the same time the reporter dropped the bomb on Mary, his superior mentioned friendly fire to him.

Upset, Kevin sought details from the batallion commander and shortly afterward Lt. Col. Bailey provided the family information based on a written report.

Three weeks later an official briefing gave a watered-down version and the report Lt. Col. Bailey had relied upon was missing. "They gave us half-baked answers," Kevin said. At the conclusion, the Army provided them an investigative fratricide report. Mary described the family reaction, "We became absolutely appalled at what we were reading and that is where our quest for truth began."

After five unsatisfactory formal military investigations the Tillman family requested that Congress review the circumstances. The U.S. House Committee convened a hearing.

Mary hadn't start off asking the Army to tell her the truth. She assumed it had done so. She told the committee, "This family has great respect for the military. We had great trust in the officers that came to us."

It was not until she received incoherent responses, inconsistent with hard evidence, that she was jolted into an agonizing expedition. Kevin described the journey, "My mom has been hot on the trail for a long time. She has been pressing hard. I didn't get very far with my chain-of-command. They just kinda pushed me around."

Slowly the ruse began to unravel. Mary paraphrased from a report. An interviewed member had described that before the firing began, his platoon had seen hands waiving and that it had looked like the people were trying to say, "Hey! It's us." Nevertheless, the platoon engaged in fire.

Mary verbalized her suspicion that former Defense Secretary Rumsfield was involved in awarding the Silver Star and knew before it was awarded that Pat had been killed by fratricide. Rumsfield had previously written Pat a letter and knew his death would be high profile. She believes the government managed a potential political crisis by exploiting Pat to make him the President's War Hero poster child.

Kevin didn't mince words. He perceived the government had used deliberate and calculated lies. "To falsify a witness statement in the process of awarding the Silver Star is fraud," Kevin urged. It was fact that at least one statement had been tampered with before being used to support the award.

Kevin postulated the President had needed an acceptable story about the death because there was political uproar and finger-pointing over a high war casualty rate that month. Moreover, the President was receiving bad press due to prisoner torture at Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq.

According to Mary, the autopsy report revealed Pat's body had "marks on his chest consistent with defibrillation" but also that there was "no brain due to trauma." In contrast, "the Army field hospital report said CPR had been performed and continued after Pat was transferred to ICU."

None of that makes sense in light of Specialist O'Neal's eyewitness account. He spoke about the bursts of fire. He saw that Pat had little cover before he, O'Neal, hit the ground. He heard Pat continue to yell, "Stop shooting. Help." Finally, the firing ceased. O'Neal "got up, checked on Pat, and discovered he was dead." It was ninety minutes before his body was removed to the field hospital. O'Neal was repeatedly ordered not to discuss the matter.

Pat Tillman is an American war hero. Neither his life nor death needed any hype. He was, like The Steadfast Tin Soldier, loyal to the end.

"Onward! Onward! Soldier! For death thou canst not shun."


© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Cat Isn't Alone On The Hot Tin Roof

Talk about a bad hair day. The United States Attorney General, Alberto Gonzales, couldn't suppress his stress during testimony before the U.S. Senate. He must have wanted to borrow Maggie's line, "You know what I feel like? I feel all the time like a cat on a hot tin roof."

Gonzales is no amateur at speaking. With degrees from Rice and Harvard it is usually with ease that eloquent responses roll off his tongue, but he didn't look so good last Thursday.

Senate interrogators spat blazing fire. It was similar to a flame breathing 1970's Kiss performance. If you want to learn how to be direct or to urge over sixty politically correct I don't recalls in one session, then the place to do it is at a Senate hearing. Gonzales dug in his heels hoping to hang on to his job. Turns out that it was soft soil. It is likely that he has checked out Vinson & Elkins Law Firm to see if a bullet-torn replica of himself can come on home. Otherwise, maybe Harriet will gently lead him by the hand as she returns to her 400 attorney law firm, Locke Liddell & Sapp. (Yes, it really is Sapp.)

Gonzales boiled with anger. The kind of anger that pours from deep within the soul. The white anger that turns to rage if control is lost. The problem is he is trying to avoid the sword and protect the Pres, too.

He is George W.'s boy from way back. As Governor, Bush anointed him General Counsel and later appointed him to the Texas Supreme Court. Then, they trotted off to D.C. and Bush took up the Presidential role and appointed Gonzales U. S. Attorney General. Peas in a pod.

Gonzales quickly lost credibility with Senate members and observers because he flatly refused to objectively discuss facts surrounding the dismissal of the Righteous Eight United States Attorneys. When pressed, and oh, he was pressed, Gonzales decried the Righteous had on occasion engaged in the exercise of poor judgment. Goodness gracious, great balls of fire! U. S. Attorneys have always been blessed to pleasure themselves that way.

By the way, Michael A. Battle said he had never known anything about performance problems. He ought to know. He was the hatchet man.

Were Brick Pollitt to lend wisdom to Gonzales, he would urge, "Cats jump off roofs and land uninjured. Do it. Jump."

Vermont senators voted to impeach Bush and Chaney, but the vote isn't binding. Remind anyone of swatting at flies and missing?

Here's one for you. When is a guilty verdict a win for the defendant? When you are Mary Winkler, the former wife of a Tennessee Church of Christ minister. While Gonzales and U.S. Senators spewed back and forth, and Vermont Senators fantasized, Winkler's jury deliberated her fate. Eventually it acquitted her from first degree murder but found her guilty of voluntary manslaughter. She's likely to do very little prison time, if any, given the fact that she never had even a shadow on her record before she, not God, destined hubby to die. In the Kingdom Of Law, Winkler is victorious. She will soon return home to explain how dad deserved it to three fatherless daughters.

On the other side of the same coin, Criminal District Attorney Galen Ray Sumrow is the top criminal prosecutor in Rockwall County. Now he is also suspected of being the top criminal. He is charged with three counts of abuse of official capacity. What's not to understand about this is not your money?

Allegedly in 2003 and 2004, Sumrow instructed the Texas Comptroller to direct deposit about seventy thousand dollars of public funds into his personal account. His child support and mortgage payments were due.

In response to a Texas Ranger inquiry, Sumrow verified his signature on the Comptroller's direct deposit authorization but quickly dismissed the matter as a simple mix up and reimbursed the State. Twenty plus years of slamming felons and this is the best story he could come up with?

Unless a jury finds fairy tale doubt about his guilt, Mr. Sumrow will be dining in with some guys he knew from his former life. Maybe he could auction his 1982 Southern Methodist University Doctor of Jurisprudence degree on Ebay before he takes his trip. It won't come with a license to practice law, though.

Cat has plenty of company on the roof. Maybe Dr. Baugh had a good idea after all, "Sometimes I wish I had a pill to make people disappear."

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007

Unrest In The Air

Can you feel that edgy, anxious, nail biting uncertainty? It is massive and loud but comes silently too. Things are happening around our world. Maybe more than usual.

Last week, efforts began to oust a West Texas prosecutor from office who had sat on prosecuting criminal cases involving Texas Youth Commission leaders. The Texas Attorney General stepped into the District Attorney's shoes and presented the charges to a Grand Jury which didn't hesitate to hand down indictments.

Unrelated to that proceeding, an injured youth, Joseph, rallied for himself and others. He filed a civil class action lawsuit. He was released from TYC about the time news of the scandal hit the airway, although according to Joseph, he should have been released years earlier. In his federal Complaint, Joseph alleges an array of heart breaking agency games, some criminal -- some questionably criminal, but all a travesty of justice if true. He urges he was mistreated and abused both physically and psychologically.

Joseph suffers from Tourette’s Syndrome which can produce involuntarily movements and uttering such as making loud noises, blinking, and cursing. Joseph's position is TYC formally disciplined him for behavior which results from the disorder. Notwithstanding that Joseph could not control his actions related to the disease, TYC intentionally mislabeled the behavior as acting out so that it could judge him guilty of offenses and render punishment. Technically, punishment is not used at a youth facility. With or without technicalities, Joseph was slammed for falling asleep after TYC administered medically prescribed medication to him which carried the manufacturer warning that drowsiness was a known side effect. Corrective measures were also taken because Joseph wore clothing that was too large, albeit that TYC issued it to him in the first place.

Part of the consequence of the disciplinaries was to withdraw Joseph's earned good behavior time credit and reduce it or completely wipe it out. The goal was to assure denial of early release to Joseph. It did.

Additionally, TYC allegedly failed to adequately preserve records and the failure to do so zeroed out rehabilitation courses that Joseph had completed and forced him to start all over again.

According to Joseph, TYC's game was to keep him incarcerated. Really, that's not hard to believe. The bottom line is the agency needed a substantial number of troubled youth to build statistics which would reflect the continuing need for the agency. Hanging on to troubled youth equals job security and more. Heavy handed disciplinaries produce solid records to promote that staff is alert and tending their charges. A high number of disciplinaries guarantee legislators the youth are the bad of the bad and again reinforce a great on-going need for the agency to operate. How else does an agency get a bigger piece of the budget pie? It is an age-old basic agency game. It is stunning that although TYC couldn't consistently maintain positive records about Joseph, with ease it readily secured negative ones.

If he proves his allegations Texans will know the agency they entrusted with rehabilitation of troubled youth was not interested in doing so and instead promoted cruelty and created life long difficulties with which the youth will deal as well as the society in which they live.

Comparing anyone to Nixon conjures darkness. Bad memories. Bad thoughts. Bad words. Senator Leahy started raising Cain last week when the White House reported that four years of emails which related to the firing of the Righteous Eight United States Attorneys were missing. Leahy declared, "It's like the infamous 18-minute gap in the Nixon White House tapes." Dana Perino, the latest White House media mouth, didn't get any points when she offered the so, so, sorry routine that ended with something like it couldn't be helped because of mere stupidity, i.e., "We are trying to understand to the best of our ability the universe of the e-mails . . . ." That answer may reflect that Bush doesn't have any better grip on domestic email systems than he does on foreign matters.

University of Texas Tower. 1966. Charles Whitman. Fifteen dead, 31 injured. The catastrophic damage done by one lone gunman has repeated.

It was a black day at Virginia Tech and the doom will not soon dissipate. At least thirty-three people were cheated from getting out of bed the following morning to face and conquer challenges of the day. And all the mornings to follow. Generations will be impacted by the absence of everyone of them. Likewise, generations will remember the day with grave sadness.

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007