[
5:02AM
] [ infiniphonic
] [ A great site for the whole family!
]
This site is fun and you can waste hours examining these photos.
http://members.home.nl/saen/Special/Zoeken.swf Have fun!
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[
7:00PM
] [ mccaleb
] [ Daily Reckoning
]
All its frauds, excesses and self-aggrandizing delusions
are on display at the Democratic National Convention in Boston. Speaker after speaker rises to the immense, illuminated pulpit and hammers away as if he were desperately trying to break down a barroom door on a Sunday. Meanwhile, a crowd of onlookers - fat and foolish - clap and cheer, and rise to its feet when the lock gives way. Never did a politician draw breath except to exhale a lie; and thousands of them were breathing heavily last night. The great circus carried on. Clown after clown rose to the platform: "Public service..." "Service to the nation..." "Serving this great country..." - every one of them claimed to be devoting his life to the sole purpose of helping his neighbors. Thus did every speech begin with a lie and end with a call to mischief. Vote for Kerry, listeners were told, and he will restore the integrity of the federal government...and also pick rich peoples' pockets on their behalf. But, in the interests of fairness and balance, we remind readers that in less than 2 years, the incumbent president, George Bush, shuffled out so much loot, he turned a modest surplus into an extravagant deficit...a turnaround of $9 trillion dollars! He doubled the rate of government growth - so that Federal expenditures are getting dealt out 4 times faster than the GDP growth rate. And he's managed to issue so much new debt that the Congressional Budget office projects a national debt of $14 trillion in 10 years...with interest alone of nearly $1 trillion annually. And he's done all this while lowering taxes. Here again, we admire the blinding, polished gleam of it. For now the burden of supporting the U.S. government's projects falls neither on the rich nor on the poor...but on the honest simpletons all over the world who were attracted by the shine of the world's most dynamic economy...and naive enough to believe its promises. Our head spins.
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[
11:47PM
] [ monkey
] [ Final word on Nehi Grape
]
Kevin and I have been working hard to unravel the mystery of the disappearance of Grape Nehi. I regret to inform you that Grape Nehi is dead. The story is ugly but true.
It was bothersome to Kevin and I that for months we could find no mention of why Grape Nehi had suddenly vanished anywhere on the net. All we could find were stories about how Nehi got its name and how profits form the drink were used to fund school scholarships. When we found vendors claiming sell bottles of Nehi at prises higher than beer we ordered the drink , but the beverage never showed. Wind of my deep cover work reached the underground. The Mysterious Mr. X found me and I informed the Soda Museum of the South had been recently compromised. The soda Fago was replacing Nehi in the history books. Fago- Gentle Reader- was created by Russians! My last communication with the museum went like this: -----Original Message----- From: Sodamuseum@aol.com [mailto:Sodamuseum@aol.com] Sent: Thursday, June 17, 2004 10:32 PM To: gfurman@cookeville.com Subject: Nehi Grape / Faygo In a message dated 6/17/04 6:13:15 PM Pacific Daylight Time, gfurman writes: What happened to Nehi Grape? Does RC actually still own Nehi or is it a dead line. The topic has become an issue with my film crew and sparked a review on our web page of several grape soda's (1 Faybo, 2 Welches ) Nehi Grape is still being bottled, in very limited areas, as well as Faygo. If you are interested I can see how much some would be. I distribute Faygo, and can check into Nehi Products if you are interested. Sincerely, T Smith SodaMuseum.com - President Check out SodaMuseum.com - the largest online source for authentic Coca-Cola items for sale in the world. I checked out the coke projects but saved my pennies so I could order as much Nehi as possible. I ordered the Nehi and never heard a word from Mr Smith. A month later the mysterious Mr. X told me a guarded secret and begged me to share it with all true believers in Nehi artificial grape soda. Mr X said, “In 1985 we were on a tour of the Nehi Plant and in our group was Radar, the actual Radar from MASH 4077th. The tour was going great when suddenly Radar screamed ‘In coming’ and dashed out of line. He was running hard and fast for the Grape Nehi building. We all thought it was a joke until we saw the helicopters. Over the tree line came the black helicopters of the Coca Cola Corporation. In seconds they landed and Storm Troopers charged toward the Nehi buildings. The Troopers were wild and fierce on high doses of the original coke packed with the highest grade Columbian cocaine. The Peach Nehi building fell first with out a shot fired – it figured, a pussy drink meets a pussy end. One by one all the plant building surrendered, except the Grape Nehi line. Radar had rallied factory works that were now launching Grape Nehi bottles at the Storm Troopers with deadly accuracy. My tour group captured by Storm Troopers and we were forced to the ground, face in the dirt. The battle went on for hours. I couldn’t see a thing but it sounded like Radar was giving them hell, guessing from the screams and the sound of Nehi bottles exploding on Trooper armor. The battle ended and I snuck a peek just as the Coca Cola flag was be raised and Radar was dragged from the building. He was covered in blood and grape soda. I remember him fiercely clutched a grape Nehi and sucking down it perfect artificial flavor a huge gulp at a time. The Troopers could not pull the bottle from his hands. As Radar passed his eyes caught mine and he yelled ‘I did it, I did it, uploaded it to…” and then he was knocked unconscious by an officers diet Coke. I found Radar’s grave 10 years later. His epitaph reads “you can have my Grape Nehi when you pry it from my cold dead hands.’ We will never see Grape Nehi again, but we can say with pride ‘Grape Nehi lived free or died free’. It comforts me to know that Radar drank the last truly artificially grape flavored soda made in the free world. Nehi is dead, long live Nehi!
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[
4:36PM
] [ mccaleb
] [ Monkey's Flyer
]
I made a flyer for Jen's band, Shiloh. The owner of McRay's Pub wouldn't let Jen hang the flyers because "they look to scary, like zombies, Christian zombies". It took about 5 min and my mind went... Change the flyer to read: "Jesus Loves War, kill kill kill."
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[
6:36PM
] [ mccaleb
] [ This Land Was Made for U & Me!
]
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[
10:20AM
] [ monkey
] [ Cummingham baby
]
E-mail from Shane Cunningham "lillian joy cunningham was born at 12:00pm on monday!!! she's 6 lbs and
doesnt even cry that much. labor was a breeze. mel pushed twice and we had our baby girl. i'll send some pics next chance i get. with any luck, mel should get to come home today. thanks y'all for the prayers and support, and i would like to apologize for bringing another crazy cunningham into the world. smell ya later, S"
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[
10:19AM
] [ monkey
] [ Shane Cunningham (Cecil) baby news
]
Shane will soon have baby #2 here is the word from him this morning:
"so we have been told by the doctors that they will induce melinda on either friday or monday. that means its go time people! same scariness this time with melinda's blood pressure so if you are in a praying mood mention me and the little lady to the big guy. i know i don't email as often as i should but i'm kinda lazy and all this typing hurts my little fingers. pass the word on to any and all you feel should know. thats it for now. smell y'all later, shane"
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[
1:43PM
] [ monkey
] [ Blood,guts and weedwackers
]
RE: Capt John Jackson Nashville TN, waiting to be returned to Iraq
In review: (for detailed blog with photos go to Feb, March, April… of this blog) Our man, Capt John Jackson, battlefield psychiatrist was called up for active duty in January 2004. He trained at Fort McCoy in Wisconsin. After a month in the snow at temperatures where the Coke machines needed heaters, Capt Jackson was deployed to Firebase W somewhere near Falluja. He jumped from 20F to 117F in full battle armor, flack jacket, 9mm “Mr. Frisky” and m16 “Mr. Cranky.” Capt Jackson was on the front lines – sort of, there really are no front lines in Iraq. All the firebases and solders are under threat of attack constantly. Firebase W happened to be near some heavy enemy activity. “These guys are on duty 24 - 7” Says Capt Jackson, “ They are deployed for a year, informed that their stays are being extended by months and have their two week vacation yanked. There is not escape. There is not rest. When our guys come home, they will have been more traumatized than solders in Vietnam.” The deadly problem here is that President Bush has cut funding to the VA radically, “when our guys come home they won’t be able to get the medical attention they need from the VA.” Our solders are disposable on the battlefield and at home. “I can’t escape the battlefield” says Capt Jackson. “ The other day a nurse let a door slam at my Vanderbilt office. The doorknob made a loud click and then the door itself slammed. It sounded exactly like a mortar detonating. A hot-flash hit, my blood raced and the reflex was to dive. We were hit with mortar attacks everyday. “I think part of the problem was that we have orders (probably Dick Chaney) to employ Iraqis on base. This is a classic military blunder; you should never allow anyone but your own troops on base. I remember seeing a Halliburton employ – getting paid $90,000 US tax free – sit in a new air conditioned Ford Explorer watching Iraqis clean out the latrines. We all resented the Halliburton guy not just because he was paid massively, or the air conditioning, but because he couldn’t recognize that some of the Iraqis were passing off our compound and noting places to drop mortars. The grunts swore that some of the latrine workers were former Iraqi officers. The grunts believe the workers wages were going to a mortar and land mine factory in Syria. It is my job to help the guys on the patrols and convoys keep it together. Convoys seem to be the hardest; you’re a sitting duck most of the time. The convoys are not made up of the Hum-vees you see on TV. We mostly use Vietnam era trucks where the entire back of the truck is exposed. The guys sling flack jackets over the side to give cover, but the jackets don’t have the plates to stop an AK 47 – they can stop a 9mm, but he Iraqis don’t have 9mms. I recall meeting one convoy and talking to a guy who was unloading ten weed-eaters. He’d just risked his life to deliver fucking weed eaters to a hot zone. Some salesmen made a quick dollar selling a friend at Halliburton lawn tools. I guess no one knows that Iraq is a desert with sand as fine as powdered sugar. Getting fed is a real hazard and I’m not talking about eating the meat roll that looks the same coming out as it does going in. KBR (Kellogg, Brown & Root: read Halliburton) has made special arrangements for the army. I spoke to the base Chef about it. He wasn’t in the kitchen – the base is equipped with an excellent kitchen – Chef was guarding the wine with a heavy machine gun. Chef wasn’t trained to use the gun; he was trained to cook. Chef wasn’t allowed to cook because KBR had the food contract. So once or twice a day a convoy had to travel to another firebase, hazarding ambushes and land mines to pick up meat rolls… which look that same coming out as going in. Every night the enemy would pound us with mortars, set land mines in the road and prepare ambushes. Everyday we’d send patrols out to find the land mines and confront the ambushes. I’d get a severe trauma case once or twice a week – it would take me days to get over. The only escape is to suck in the soul, away from the world. After Easter, when the Sunni’s were acting up I prepared a squad to go out on a routine ambush search. They are kids – 19- and they are mostly scared. Some of them tell stories to build courage. I remember one kid saying, “remember that one old man, I put three in his back.” We kill civilians, lots of civilians. It just happens when your scared and pumped up. On this particular day I rallied the guys courage around the Fabulous Private X. He was the kind of guy who every one liked and everyone respected. Private X has seen combat and gotten guys through hard times. The convoy left and about two hours out, hit an ambush. Private X was the machine gunner on a Humvee. An RPG (rocket propelled grenade) hit Private X in the head and bounced of without detonating. The impact of the RPG took Private X’s head off and his headless body fell into the Humvee soaking it in blood. The crew fought their way through the ambush and made it to a small firebase of about 200 men. The base had no doctor. I was the nearest doctor, so a convoy was arranged and I began the pensive wait. There were two sergeants assigned to me whose orders were to keep me alive. They usually alternated or drew straws to see who would go out with me. In this case they both volunteered, they knew things were hot. The convoy arrived fast, quicker than I’ve ever seen. It was a Humvee and a few open-air trucks with flack jackets for cover. The Sergeants climbed in the open-air trucks and I prepared to climb into the armored Humvee. I stared at my Sergeants and decided I couldn’t let them come with me. I ordered them to report to the base commander for assignment. When I climbed into the Humvee I discovered it was Private X’s machine. His dried blood was everywhere. We loaded our weapons, opened the windows and headed out into the desert with every gun we had sticking out of a window. The game was to look like a porcupine in order to discourage an ambush. We arrived at the Firebase near dark. There wasn’t much I could do at the time, so the guys got some food and tried to sleep. I planned to work on them the next day when heads has cleared. Early that night there was an alarm and everyone scrambled for weapons. Men ran past me, everyone knowing where to go and what to do. I felt alone, not a man here knew me or really cared. I found myself wishing Sgt Cherry were here to fight with me. I found my place at the bunker wall and waited. The word came down the gossip chain that there were two teams of ten men inside the wire. Our camp was small, you couldn’t through a stone across it, but you could hit the other side if you used a child’s slingshot. We waited. In the morning we discovered that a guard had blown the shit out of a cow, which had wandered too near the wire. How gossip works – two teams of ten men. As usual, a team was sent out to search for land mines and ambushes. This team found one immediately, and a big one. Significant casualties were reported. Then came the report that an army of about 2,000 Sunni were massing and coming our way. We were out numbered five to one. As the only doctor on base I felt lucky that I would be two busy to fight – until the end. Tanks arrived, “that’s good news isn’t it private?” “No sir, we’ve never used tanks on defense before”. We waited. The army of 2,000 was leaderless and dissolved. In the meantime the ambushed team returned with the wounded, refueled, picked me up and we returned to Firebase W. Here at home I can’t get the thought of those weed-eaters out of my mind or the taste of the meat roll out of my mouth. When a door slams or a firework goes off I flinch. I’ve discovered that President Bush has cut the VA drastically and I’m filled with resentment and cynicism at the idea that our solders- my guys- won’t get the medical attention they need -both physical and psychological. This is a meaningless war of lives lost and souls twisted… and I have to go back. Side note by Jack Hitt “Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) borrowed World War II-era language from an amendment that would criminalize war profiteering. But the Republican leadership not only removed it: they also raised the limit on no-bid contracts from $7.5 million to $200 million, inaugurating a new era of raiding the US Treasury, all of it legal.” Weed-eaters in the desert.
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[
12:03AM
] [ mccaleb
] [ popbitch
]
Rumours are intensifying that The Weinsteins are
leaving Miramax imminently to buy MGM with Steve Jobs for more than $5bn. *** "Whatever reason Hollywood has for its love affair with the "f" word, it is decidedly not about the money," writes Dan Ferris. "Since the year 2000, Hollywood has turned out five times as many R-rated films as it has films rated G or PG or PG- 13. No less than 2,146 films released since 2000 received R-ratings, compared with 137 films rated G and 252 films rated PG. "Is it a case of simple supply and demand at work? Apparently not. Of the top 20 moneymaking films of all time, not a single one is rated R, and of the top 50, only five are rated R - with the other 45 rated G or PG. "It's all about the art, man. The "f" word is "bad," which, of course is good...only you're not supposed to be good...you're supposed to be bad...not that being bad is good, or being good bad..."
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[
6:13PM
] [ mccaleb
] [ SHILOH
]
Nice van, Kevin!
& those are some hot looking babes in the back! Wish I could come see the show. Rock On, Keep the Faith, 
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[
4:47PM
] [ monkey
] [ Shiloh at Crawdaddys Sat July 10 at 10:30PM
]
My new favorite band in town is Shiloh, who will be performing at Crawdaddys on Saturday July 10, 2004 at 10:30PM. They are a five piece rock band with a heavy folk influence. Solo folk singer and guitar player Jennifer Richardson and rock singer Mary Bispham (formerly of Fergusons Blue) trade songs and mix melodies to make the liveliest female duo in middle Tennessee. Bass player Kevin Lovellett (from the original Hosemobile) has been known to trade out his bass for a banjo and tear it up. The legendary drummer Tony Bradford punches out rhythms that give Shiloh its popular drive (Tony has played in many bands, my favorite is the Joshua Falken Trio) Dave Foster plays lead electric guitar with a silent determination that suggest he really wants to bash his guitar on the bar and scream “I hate chocolate pudding!”
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[
12:25AM
] [ mccaleb
] [ Message From Iraq
]
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[
10:25AM
] [ monkey
] [ Big Fan Fading
]
Dear Big Fan Fading,
> > The current plan is to apply to Sundance and Cannes – both film festivals screen around January. The rules are we can’t officially show anywhere else until those film festivals have had their exclusive screening. After that,we have a long list of film festivals we hope to be showing at all over the world. A festival I look forward to greatly is the Back Seat Film Festival, > which should be renamed the drunk insane festival. So, we have a long and painful wait. > > In the mean time I’ve begun work on an action film grown the horror film (the Legend of Crazy George.) We are always looking for victims – participants to get involved with our project if you have skills in this area. The skill of fan however is highly valued. > If you live anywhere near Cookeville I’d be glad to show you the film we are > sending to the Film Festivals for approval. You're in put on what music to use in the final scene would be welcome. You must however show up with a pepperoni pizza. You can e-mail me by clicking my name "monkey" highlighted in red above and making a comment in the tag line that makes you stand out from spam. If you live in New Zealand you can click on "McCaleb's" name in red somewhere in this blog. He eats pizza too, but I think he's grown fond on Yam Chips now(Kumara Chips?)
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[
7:17PM
] [ mccaleb
] [ Spice of Life - POPBITCH
]
Geri Halliwell was spotted watching England's Euro
2004 games in a Chelsea pub. During the match against France pub-goers said she looked a little confused, and kept shouting "Which one's David?" And as if that wasn't annoying enough, when France scored two goals in the last two minutes Geri tried to cheer up the other punters by going around saying "It's only a game". Victoria Beckham has just broken the world Gang Bang record. In 120 minutes her shaved cunt fucked the whole country. (Boom - boom.) LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD: chemical_ali writes from Iraq: "In a romantic postscript to a disastrous occupation, newspapers here are saying that Paul Bremer enjoyed "an emotional relationship" with a 35-year-old Iraqi woman who used to work for Saddam's protocol department. His paramour and her family are now in Jordan awaiting passage to the US in Bremer's hasty wake, with talk of marriage on the cards. "Many of Bremer's colleagues also fell into bed with their Iraqi translators and assistants, while others could pick up prostitutes at the private bars the occupation authority set up at the Rashid hotel. Army grunts, however, had to make do with banging their hookers in the toilets of the Palestine hotel, right under the noses of the press corps." www.popbitch.com
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[
1:09PM
] [ monkey
] [ Fahrenheit 9/11
]
I have seen Fahrenheit 9/11. See the film - catch it at the movies,rent it at the video store, buy copies for your self and copies for your friends. Do it all before the election. G.W. Bush should be banished from the kingdom or better yet put on a fire base in Iraq and made to go on patrols.
Capt John Jackson has returned from the battle field and I have had supper with him. He told war stories that clearly show we are being lied to in a major way. On Saturday I will collect more of his stories from the battle field and relay them to you. John is tired, but glad to be back from the war. He will soon begin speaking in public and encouraging all of us to vote for a new leader - if that is what we can call GW Bush. Capt Jackson has warned me, when the soldiers return fron Iraq it will be worse than Vietnam. In Iraq there is no hint of a front line, no suggestion of a safe place for R & R, its all battle field and the mortars keep comming. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder will be the illness they all carry - no cure. Get ready for blood, guts and insanity with an amazing topping of courage.
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