The Dichotomies Stirred up by Obama


I think if nothing else, Obama has been successful in stirring up a swirling riptide of dichotomies within us, especially those who claim a liberal bias, because we are uncertain of his commitment and/or follow through and whether he would trade off our loyalties for one republican vote.

Elusive success is more a measure of action than honeyed words. What troubles me is that beyond the words, the tangible stuff that begins with a good foundation, does not seem terribly keen or well thought out. And we don’t have to go very far to see examples of that. Consider the bail-outs and the rescue attempts, the job programs and health care. Although they represented an improvement over what had transpired in the prior eight years—which amounted to nothing, they seemed almost taped together with baling wire and spit. And who are the architects responsible? The experts. Think about it. Perhaps what was most surprising was the fact that he showed his talent for accommodation by selecting those who were most commonly associated with the disasters of the past. These were the experts on fiscal policy, banking, and massaging the numbers. Well, to the rest of us, those bona fides are in question today.

Will Obama’s programs be rejected for being unclear, not fully thought out and open to distortion or misinterpretation? That’s bad enough but when you factor in the pressure from Republican obstructionists it seems that we, the people, will never wind up with a fair shake. Mind you, that it is clear that our minions in Congress have not gathered their forces or shown their spleen. Is this a precursor to some impending great movement that still does not have its standard bearer? It’s hard to say.

Truth to tell, Obama is a fascinating and beguiling character. He is at once the Renaissance man, a man of style and dignity and representative of the penultimate “coolness; ” yet we still harbor reservations that are not quite tangible enough to put a finger on.

And yet, when you reflect on it all, the tendency is to say, “Now, come on. Don’t be so hard on the guy. After all, nobody’s perfect.”

Yes, I know he has been the most visible, most intelligent spokesman that this country has had in recent memory and most are thankful that we got rid of the cowboy in Toy Story at any cost. Obama, is clearly no ideologue; but a pragmatist willing to negotiate to cut a deal. Overall, he humbles us with his ability to hit just the right tone in his messages and convey the feeling that “you get it.”

So, in the final analysis, what could it be that nags at us?

Could it be that what he considers a plus is for us a failure of will or commitment? Do we question whether his heart and his mind are traveling in the same direction?

For me, I resonate with what he says. It is in the methodology and the execution that I take issue with. Is that a real concern or something that my paranoid self has dreamt up? It is almost as if I am concerned that he is so anxious for acceptance, that what will be left of any proposition is the bones with the meat having been shredded off in his attempts to please the rival cabals of special interests. Yet, despite all that he is willing to do, he has been largely unsuccessful at winning converts from the other side of the aisle. Is this instructive? Are the Republicans such obstructionists, that they will stab themselves in the foot before they even give one droplet of their special bodily fluids to serve the people. Put in prosaic terms, are they even worth the effort?

Let me cite an example, in the beginning of his term of office, Obama made it quite clear that his government was going to be moving forward and not seeking to dredge up the past or pin blame on others. This was going to be a positive administration committed to addressing the problems of America in 2009.

That might have been the noble thing to do, or maybe the most expedient considering the the number and complexity of critical issues on his plate and our own doubts as to whether anyone could make Humpty Dumpty whole again.

But how exactly was he going to win over a recalcitrant republican party to his side when it seemed crystal clear that they were unable, or unwilling, to agree on anything; when they looked more like the Katzenjammer kids willing to throw a monkey wrench to fowl up the works wherever they could. Moreover, despite their dysfunctionality, they all had developed long term amnesia and saw little connection between the events of the last eight years and their own commitment to conservative principles.

Take this a step further. The model of Republican chutzpah was set by Paulson, who insisted that we would have to cough up over 700 billion dollars for bail-outs of the banks or the whole country would surely face a looming disaster of unbelievable proportions. (He seemed to forget that by our vote, we had already given the administration carte blanche to commit murder and mayhem in our names.) Anyway, we bought it, accepting the Henny Penny outlook in order to avert disaster.
If anything, Paulson has to be the poster-boy of what can be done through brinkmanship combined with the narrowest perspective that believes anything outside of Wall Street is not worth thinking about. After all, it is all about profits; and always has been.

And Paulson pulled it off without extracting good terms or the cooperation of the banks to buttress up Main Street, a coup that will be long remembered by the left for leaving the rest of us hanging.

The Devil seems to be in the details of this administration.

In bringing in those responsible for the abuses to address the abuses, Obama set a tone indicating that the platform of the left was no longer relevant to the kind of compromises and good guy tactics that were necessary to placate the big money and the “influentials” he needed on his team.. Maybe there is some logic to that because they are probably the only one’s left who remember how the system can be made to work. But that is more cynical than truth.

What came out of it was the fact that even we, lowly peons, discovered that we know as much as the experts. Who can forget the two leading experts on finance sitting before Charlie Rose with their eyes glazed over and their mouths hanging open . It was not pretty.

I do remember that at the height of the Wall Street collapse, all of the Wall Street gurus started to speak in tongues; no one had a solution and it was clear, that words alone were not going to change the outcome. Moreover, it was clear that self-interest was alive and well, and that all of the guilty were not as interested in Redemption as they were hoping for the chance to live another day. And it worked! (Unless, you include Lehman Brothers.) You don’t have to go much further than the way AIG managed to get bailed out with its scheme of insurance for the banks something that nobody could understand or do without, it seemed.

So, it seems, that beginning with day one, we were compromised by the Wall Street gurus now popping up on “our side.”

And this kind of failure seemed to resonate through all legislation.

Yes, it wasn’t long before the new Administration came out with a rescue program to get business up and running again. Only, in the application and methodology, it didn’t seem to accomplish anything. It turned out that some audacious States even used the money not to build jobs but to balance the budget. To date, no discussion of accountability.

Where were the jobs?

And what kind of programs were being envisioned for small business?—the largest employer of the nation’s work force. Despite how some of us tried to get through, it was clear that this search for new ideas was not going to go much beyond Somers and company.

This gave even more reason for us not to excuse the past.

Whether we liked it or not, the facts were known to us. Government had allowed the private sector to go “off-shore” to lower costs and overhead.

A loss to American workers!

Never mind, we were still buying into the idea that services could replace manufacturing and that services were “clean” and manufacturing “dirty.” In short, we had been sold a bill of goods that our media never picked up on or investigated. The trouble with that idea was that it was wrong from virtually every angle. Service sector jobs did not displace manufacturing and never would. And any of the government’s accountants should have been able to tell him that. Nor would the promise of “off-shoring” help Americans keep their jobs or maintain a quality of life.

The fact that companies were acquired, merged, and disenfranchised virtually overnight, or bought out by foreign interests, didn’t seem to penetrate; neither did the concept of “down sizing” which was heralded as being in the best interests of American business and industry; when, in truth, it was simply another device to make the rich richer. And the American people in their naiveté, simply lapped it up.

And this development which raged for years, in combination of all of the other slipping and sliding that the Bush people allowed, only set us up for what was to come.

The truth was that we were rapidly morphing into a retail nation with Walmart leading the pack. Today, over 1700 of Walmart’s top 1900 suppliers are based in Asia.
And we might say, well, they’re only one example. It’s not as simple as that. Walmart is a retail category unto itself. It does more business in sheer volume than all of the other major retailers combined. So, it’s a decision that should weigh heavily on those who decide policy at the highest levels.

Nor does current policy pay attention to the Immigration problem. More than 12 million illegal aliens perform all kinds of jobs in this country and for the most part, who happily for the die-hards, weaken the strength of unions. And isn’t winning what it’s all about?,

Then, too, America, under Clinton, had jammed through legislation called NAFTA that was supposed to level the playing field for business; but it had just the opposite effect. In fact, few Congressman read the legislation prepared by the lobbyists before the vote and, today, we have to live with it.

Sadly, I doubt whether anyone has read the small print. NAFTA has resulted in many jobs going to places like India and China with no corresponding bounce for American manufacturers.

Further, most of the companies who have left our shores are no longer paying taxes to the US further depriving our country of the benefits that allowed these companies to arise and become successful in the first place.

But this is only the beginning. Our schools are being tapped into by private interests so that the great research efforts that spawned a good part of our growth in the fifties and sixties are no longer functioning as pure research facilities despite the fact that they operate here, receive government funding that comes from taxpayer sources.

So, we need to look into that as well.

For the most part, America is in hock to its creditors. For most of the advanced world, America simply exports raw materials, natural resources and agricultural products and imports manufactured goods. We do not make a TV in the US any longer and we do not even have a machine tool industry even if we wanted to start a new industry.

It is disgraceful. We owe China over 8 trillion dollars. And we are indebted to Japan, England, Saudi Arabia. Under the present way of looking at trade, America has become a colony selling its natural resources, scrap and agricultural products and importing finished goods. Sad beyond words!

Here’s what I propose to get America moving again. We reverse the polarity of our sinking fortunes and cancel all of the policies of the last eight years, dismantle NAFTA and the South American agreement and take our country back from those who would sell us down the river to satisfy their own self-aggrandizing interests.

In the interests of a kind of harmony and a spirit of working together, we have set aside the past; by the same token, those who could move health care and other concerns forward, have chosen to ignore what’s happened in the past and have not let down their
aggressive obstruction of all pending legislation in health care, control of banking, approval of executive appointments, global warming, etc. Perhaps, they need to be reminded of what they condoned over their last eight years when they were responsible to the American people’s protection and welfare.

It is my thesis, that if we want jobs, if we want respect, if we want to reconnect and kick-start our business and industry, we need to get back to fundamentals and that means getting rid of all of the programs of the last eight years and changing the way America does things. And if the Republicans don’t like our kick-ass posture, tough!

Les Aaron
The Armchair Curmudgeon

Reviving the Small Business Miracle:




Letter to the Editor:

Bob Herbert’s recent assessment of the job market and whether Obama gets it is right on target in my estimation. I have been a fan of Herbert’s views for a long, long time even though I disagreed with his argument that the service sector and manufacturing were almost interchangeable (93 editorial).

Part of the problem is that there have been no magic bullets, no grand ideas proffered by our expert leaders; in my mind, that may be because they are drawn from companies who practice the status quo which is totally opposed to the kind of bold thinking that we need now if we are to return to the innovative path we had pursued so successfully for so long. Instead, there is too often a play it safe and assume no unnecessary risk attitude that inveighs against creative thinking and the kind of breakthroughs we need. It is unfortunate that the prevalent thinking and the better minds have drifted into service sector rather than areas that make things happen, that spark ingenuity that translates into new products that can lead us back on a path of product manufacturing where our ingenuity and creativity has made us successful in the past.

And I believe that I understand that Obama’s views are shaped by those who have a very unique view of business and industry and the service sector. He has proven the mediator, the play it safe guy who rebels at anything that let’s say goes beyond the status quo. Therefore, it is impossible for him to do the kinds of things we need to do to kick start business and industry. We need a maverick, a Steve Jobs type appointed to the task who is not scared of taking risks or innovation. Today, our government gurus are by products of companies that dominate their particular industries or service sectors; they do not represent where the majority of jobs are located, the small business sector. In truth, I have heard very little in the way of imaginative solutions to regenerate this vital and essential segment of business. We have, in a sense, overlooked small business’s contribution to the economy along with our failure as emblematic of our lack of vision.

Although I am not an economist by training, I have been a consultant to some of the leading international companies over forty years, a writer, educator and activist. I sent to Obama some tracts from two recent book where I lay out the reasons for our current malaise, which I believe occur through decisions made over some forty or fifty years and our failure to recognize that our future’s has always been closely related to our acceptance of individuality and creativity in manufacturing and technology and our willingness to assume risk.

While we are committed to two trillion dollars indebtedness to fight an unproven war in a part of the world that only remotely affects us, we have not had the courage to invest in our small business.

In one of my recommendations to president Obama, I established the idea that we should invest merely eight billion dollars as seed money in new businesses that must meet the ordinary tests of acquiring capital from venture capitalists. Believe me, this would not be throwing money away because the entrepreneurs would have to show that their ideas have merit and lay out plans explaining how their companies would move forward through the early stages and beyond.

Moreover, the amount they would need would be petty cash to most big companies especially if you consider what we have already handed out with no contingencies to banks and insurance companies with no expectations of getting our investments back.

Consider that the average outlay by a venture capitalist is under 50,000 dollars which they typically consider sufficient to reach the first milestones.

Those who might be charged with reviewing the quality of the small business ideas could be the forcibly retired, those who were making too much money and replaced or simply saw their jobs evanesce when we made it so easy for American companies to move off-shore to avoid high labor costs and taxes. (The Greening of America syndrome.)

I venture to say that such a process would provide millions of new sources of employment and create as many as ten million new jobs at the very least during the first years, with rapid expansion afterwards for those who reach their first milestones.

We need to see a rebirth in entrepreneurial spirit, risk taking and creativity and nothing on the drawing boards of today reflects. We also need to deal with the fundamental problems that we have inherited: A negative predisposition to risk taking, the problems of “off shoring,” our economic indebtedness to China, the fact that we have allowed ourselves to become servants of China and a retail nation.

We need several Crusades across the board to promulgate the tons of new opportunities that abound ranging from gene research to miniaturization to the varying demands of “green” industries to reawaken the great giant that is America. . And if it requires a little seed money to reawaken our taste for innovation and creative solutions, what is taking us so long. My book, entitled “Democracy, Debacles, and the American Dream” delves into all of this and offers solutions that our current class of managers and gurus seems to not recognize as being essential and valid.

Thank you.

Les Aaron-Friedlieb
Author and resident futurist

Cehalopod mollusks and mental midgets of the family Hymenoptera.


It is a strange time to be alive.

When I left to go north to Canada before New Year’s in 1999, I had a premonition that we were in for a time of bizarre unpredictability which at the time, was mainly fueled by our failure to consider a few digits on the computer calendar. To offset that possibility, I put together one of the most comprehensive survival kits that did help me survive two blizzards and other hazards during that trip north.

Interestingly, as we approached 2000, it occurred to me that we had not made provision for anything that might happen in a new millennium. How could that be? How could our gurus of the computer been caught so short.

It made little sense.

Nor has much that has happened since.

In fact, it has become in my view at least, a pretty senseless world.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that perhaps I was being prophetic but not really knowing the reason why.

I guess I could be considered the kind that sees a Conspiracy around every corner, and, if anyone will listen, I will bedazzle them with the facts I’ve garnered that support my various cases.

But most people have the common sense not to subject themselves to raving, foaming lunatics like myself. I don’t know why I had this level of suspicion about everything. I wasn’t brought up to be paranoid; yet, I was at the confluences of many things that have still be unsettled or never resolved to my particular satisfaction.

And I could quote chapter and verse.

But now I am preoccupied with still another thought.

And that is a feeling that has gradually taken precedence over my incipient paranoia, and that has to do with the way most people look at things and who they decide to elevate to iconic levels and our willingness to accept everything that our leaders tend to tell us. It seems that we can not be bothered to generate the mental energy to have to think our way out of anything.

What is even more frightening than my conspiracy addiction is the fact that I am being moved more and more into the camp that believes our society has lost its good sense.

There is no other way to put it.

Our leaders spout answers or positions that seem to me so backwards, so distant from our real challenges and needs that they no longer reflect any ties to reality.

What’s more people listen to them and seem impressed.

Why, pray tell.

What makes this all possible are two things; A lack of concern for objective facts and overly short memories.

For example, Sarah Palin is intent upon informing the rest of the world of her knowledge, which if anything, is probably the one thing that she seems to lack in abundance.

The other progenitor of this kind of mental myopia that we all seem to be afflicted by is the fact that the Republicans are blaming everything that happened over the prior eight years on Obama and the Democratic party.

How could these kind of mental gyrations take place in a civilized world? Is it me? Or have we just lost our ability to think?

Someone once told me that if you say something strongly and often enough, people will believe it.

I now think that is more often the case than not.

But those two single examples exemplify what I am going through.

I can’t be bothered listening to all of the lies and contrivances of the right that persist to this day.

Fox has more listeners than CNN. How could that be.
Is it that people don’t want real NEWS. They just want to be supported in their presumptions, in their inherent biases. And who does that better than Fox?

Why?

Has the democratic desire to be non-partisan silenced all of the republican critics so that we don’t offend the right wing?

I don’t know.

But increasingly, like I said before, little is making any sense these days. For the last five years, I’ve discovered that in order to have objective discussions, I’ve had to leave the country. Maybe it’s time to see if my old Canadian citizenship is still valid. Or maybe time to reactivate it.

I can barely watch TV any longer because of the anger it generates in me.

If we are a democracy, shouldn’t we be worried about the survival of the Middle Class?

Be we are not!

In our willingness to accommodate even those who beat us up, we dare not rock the boat when the boat should have been allowed to sink and a new contract for a new boat issued to American boat builders without inherent bias. . Never mind that the boat that we keep afloat has been brought to the point of cap-sizing with policies that no democrat ever got close to.

It is literally maddening for me and I believe any thinking person, who, like myself, finds himself mired in meritless arguments that hold no water and understanding that barely skims the surface. You can’t hold an argument with people who are incapable of understanding issues, of people who are more affected by inherent biases and party affiliation that common sense.
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Therefore, the best one can do, is try to bring clarity to the fore. Expound on ideas and common threads in the hope and expectation that you will find some brain cells around somewhere that are still alive and can be encouraged to regenerate.

For now it doesn’t seem hopeful.

Instead, I am focusing on the Octupus who seems to have his/her purpose quite well thought out, has the ability to reason, at least enough to survive long enough to do its part to repopulate the oceans with its progeny. There is nothing quite like a protective Octopus mother.

And looking about as to how our great minds are working hard to destroy society, it is quite a change of pace.

Maybe we could learn something from our friends in the deep.
Les Aaron

American Taxpayer: Beware, the US Army is preparing to seduce your child.

If you think I am kidding, then you simply haven’t been paying attention to an Army that has not only updated its notion of soldiering but also its recruitment techniques.

The fact of the matter is that US tax funds are being used for the keenest form of seduction.

The Army has finally figured it out.

The way to build up its might, is not to try to pressure young men and women to give up their lives and join the Armed Services. No way! Not today. Today, the entire recruiting focus has been reshaped and modernized and woe unto them who do not fully understand what today’s military recruiters are up to and how sophisticated the new subtle pitches are.

The Army has put the past behind them in every way possible. They know that the pitch Be All You Can Be has a limited life-span and appeals mainly to the conscious mind, and if you want to meet your quotas, you have to probe beneath the conscious mind. They understand, therefore, that ingratiating one’s self and providing sermons about the advantages of Army life has grown old to savvy young people and new tactics were mandated. But who would have believed that they would use state of the art techniques that combine the mind and pleasure principles to seduce young minds; yet it is happening and now.

Somewhere along the line, you can bet your bottom dollar that they have meetings up the yin-yang with psychiatrists and motivational planners and three card monte players to assess what a young man or woman want in their young lives; more so, what they find irresistible. And this time, they are right on the money.

The success matrix of possibilities employ a new kind of enticement using motivational tools that run the gamut from technologies that produce pleasure, the competitiveness and mastery demonstrated by gaming, the latest visual and computer technology, and other forms of stimulation that appeal emotionally and viscerally to young minds.

Rooted somewhere in that generalized profile is the knowledge that young people today are obsessed with the idea of computer games.

It does not take a brain surgeon to realize that American children are possessed from an early age with the desire to use the computer for the simple pleasure of playing games.

That’s why the new Recruitment Centers the Army is opening up without fanfare is nothing like the places of old, cold, gray places with lot’s of American flags and pictures of massive weapons.

No way. Today, in fact, they look like the updated penny arcades of old, but instead of featuring viewing machines and different kinds of games of toss, these arcades are models of what it takes to seduce a young mind. What they feature are the latest and most sophisticated military games incorporating everything from being inside a jet plane to bombing an enemy with weapons that look and sound like the real thing. Never mind, that the simulations are of people dying or being blown to smithereens.

What is the issue is that young people are being sucked in at the age of thirteen or fourteen in a relationship with a seductive looking military machine.

I’m not sure what that does to one’s sense of morality or ethics or how it inures a young mind to the conception of death and destruction; that will take years of study to decipher but for now, it looks like the military’s approach is working.

And no one seems to be disturbed by the whole thing.

If I had teen age children—or even pre-teens—I would warn them with every fiber of my being that such places of “play” should be rated x, requiring a parent’s permission.

And I am sure that if that ploy were used in certain parts of the world, parents would be up in arms for trying to manipulate young minds, but here it seems that anything goes and nobody much cares….or if they do, they are not saying anything at this point.

And who knows what the future holds.

What’s especially troubling is not only are Americans being deceived, their tax dollars are going to fund such enterprises. Woe is us, it seems. The Devil has found a new way to rob us of our children when some blindsided self-serving demigod decides it’s time for a War.

An aside here, that vouchsafes my feelings: War should not be left up to politicians, I believe, or people with personal agendas but should be made by those who have experienced the rigors of War up close and decided by the population at large in public meetings held around the country. It is that important.
Remember, Wars tend to distract us from everything else and it comes at a huge expense in terms of our futures and our well-being and should not be decided to win natural resources, “get even” for past affronts, or as a means of winning votes.

As a qualifier, I should add that I am not against a young person performing service for their country, but I find it bone-chilling to see such deception, especially when no one knows what the implications are for mind and body and to understand that it is being done behind our backs, without our permission.

Perhaps Americans will need to rise up for once. For, surely, this seems important enough to rise up about.

Les Aaron
The Armchair Curmudgeon

Hi Gang:

For those of you who asked to be updated re
what we are offering this Winter and Spring,
I am pleased to supply my book list.

Please forward any questions to my attention.

The LAACO Press
Lewes Delaware
WINTER & SPRING 2010


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


SEVERAL NEW OFFERINGS….
Books for thinking people in a wide range of genres
Mystery, Sci-Fi, Adventure, Detective, Spy, Assassinations, Jihads, Environmental Adventures, Black Humor, Satire, Narrative Fiction, and Nonfiction Editorials, Commentaries, Essays


Dear Book Club Member.
Thanks for tuning in: This has been a most exciting season for us and made possible a number of new editions to our existing library of current fiction and nonfiction with FREEDOM LOST, a story of how close we came to the transformation of America and the loss of freedom. It is the story of the ultimate form of globalization—the country that is transformed into a corporation. And it almost happened here.

From the Introduction to Freedom Lost:




I am pleased to report that the first two books in the HazMat for the Mind Series and the publication of “Before We Wake Up,” probably as close as well get to the truth about what Al Qaeda is planning..

We’ve also taken on the Immigration problem with the publication of “Welcome to America; now Go Home!”—a tongue in cheek approach to the Immigration problem based upon the inanity of the Congressional bill on Immigration and the president’s tone deaf response; some have termed this satire a comic mix of “The Russians are Coming” and Catch 22…..

This is what’s in inventory and on the docket for the next six months… Complete book orders received within the next ten days should arrive in time for Christmas. Many first editions still available and books may be inscribed by the author upon request.
New Editions and Other Editions Published In the Last Eighteen Months…
Among them,

( USA ONLY; DOES NOT INCLUDE HAWAII OR ALASKA OR TERRITORIES OF THE US)



Adventures in Antiterrorism
A Novel:
NEW!: Before We Wake Up


From the Introduction:

A young unsmiling man in a dark tailored suit stood outside and greeted each of the men in turn, asking for their identifications, before passing them through . All of the men there wore dark, somber suits with neutral or dark ties with white shirts and plain toed black shoes…

Proceeding from the doorway, it was like going through a funnel opening up to a dark mahogany door on the far side…

The three men entered the darkened hallway in silence… Inside, they saw maroon wool carpeting covering the floor of what appeared to be a windowless room square in dimension and undistinguished except for a long table and a rack of chairs standing alongside.

Another man dressed the same way stood in the back with his hands clasped. A speaker phone was clipped on to his ear.

The men filed in one after the other.

Each proceeded to pick up an aluminum chair and move it to one side of the table. The only sound was the squeaking of chairs.

There was nothing on the functional office style table except a single white phone and three pads with pencils. . The short blond man stared at the phone as if he could will it to ring…

The men sat in silence and avoided each other’s eyes. It was as if they were participating at a wake and in some ways, it was precisely that…

You could literally hear a pin drop.

After several minutes, the older man with the black rimmed eyes and sorrowful look spoke,

“The Dutchman said they were missing….”

None of the men’s expressions changed.

The shorter, solidly built man with the blond hair and the brush cut sitting at the opposite end of the table twisted in his seat and said, “We should have known. ”

“Even then what could we have done about it?,” replied the man with the dark rimmed eyes…

Nobody responded. The other man just sat there.

There was a heaviness in the air that was tangible.

The tall man with the gray hair, who had not spoken before, opened a little leather bag that he had been holding as if it contained precious jewels, he said, “It is time to act.”

He did something cryptic to the little box with the stylus he was carrying and then returned it to his pocket.


The other men looked at him and nodded imperceptibly but said nothing. Their eyes seem to say it all. They had failed to stop the attackers before they could launch; now their work would be cut out for them—all three bore a responsibility and it was taking its toll..



The tall man, and the apparent leader, looked around to make sure the door was closed and the room secure and said, “I expect you all to go to Zulu now on my count. “3, 2, 1 go.... The mechanisms must be put into place immediately.”

He looked around somewhat wearily declared: “We can accomplish nothing further here, gentlemen…”

That seemed to be a signal for the three men to stand up and leave the gray colorless room without uttering another word.

After the other two men left, the tall man with the gray hair made a call on his cell phone to a number he had memorized a long time ago….

“Hello, Dave here…”

“David, this is Connelly….
It has begun.”


First edition. Available signed on request:
22.95 plus s&h;
Not available on disk




A Novel of Insanity and Outrageous Humor Describing the Impact of the Immigration Bill on everyone from Washington to the Kremlin—from Rome to London’s M15. Read it and roar…..
.
NEW!: “Welcome to America; Now Leave!”

By Les Aaron

Doing the impossible. Trying to make sense out of an incomprehensible, illogical and mindless Immigration Bill that attempted to be all things to all people and was not only after the fact, but so unrealistic and out of touch with reality that it caused people to die from extensive and uncontrollable laughter.

Clearly, it was the proverbial elephant created by committee.

A sop to all of the parties that evidently had an interest in the outcome, despite the fact that the bill seemed compiled by some kind of alien faction recruited for that purpose from a parallel universe.

“There was no question that the Hispanics were here; the real question was what we were going to do about it. A subject treated cavalierly in the bill, itself. . It was during its brief lifespan a comedy of errors with points so irreconcilable that they were almost laughable. I mean did anyone ever think of following the logic of some of the key elements of the bill? For example, who was going to send home 12 million illegal immigrants so that they can pay a fine of $5,000 for something that they are already benefiting from at no cost! This is definitely Woody Alan material. These were laborers, not entrepreneurs sitting on their money. Did anyone even consider that the fee might be more than their life-savings? Or that if we followed through with our threat, the wheels of commerce would inexorably grind to a halt. .

Seeing the humor and the possibilities in the true dysfunctional character of Congress, I have hopefully pulled together a funny story that I hope will be viewed as a ‘Catch 22’meets ‘The Russians are Coming’—in an attempt to shed some real light on not only the plight of the Mexicans but also those affected by the Mexican unauthorized immigration….

A fun way to get your news on what is after all a most serious problem.

Prelisting Price Special
24.50 plus s&h
First Editions Available
Signed upon request


ADVENTURE: Brooklyn, the Middle East, Chaos in the telling of this New York based Detective Story….

“All Fall Down.”

By Les Aaron
Another adventure featuring “Fearless” Freddy Black, Brooklyn ad-writer turned private investigator…


FROM THE PRELUDE TO ALL FALL DOWN…

“It was your typical Monday morning, I was tired, cranky, irritable as hell. It seemed that everything in my life was going down the tubes, Rose was ready to tell me to pack up my suitcase;… my devoted kids were writing me off and the boss was totally pissed-off about what I hadn’t done for him lately. I thought about how my life was falling apart in little creeping increments as I sat on the john reading the paper and feeling sorry for myself.

“And then something grabbed my attention.

“It was one of those sardonic headlines that button hole you and don’t let go. It ready simply: “Girls lose their heads in Crazed City.”

“What?”

“ That was my first reaction. I figured I had missed something profound in the headline which caused me to read on.

“ It turned out that this was a bizarre story about some serial killer on the loose whose signature was to separate young girls from their heads..

“I had heard some rumors about a loony being out there but passed it off like the dozens of other rumors I hear every day all week long.

“According to the desk Sergeant, a guy named Owens, a big fat Irishman with no sense of humor, there was something to it but the Commissioner and the Captain were trying to keep a lid on it. Nevertheless, a little voice inside was telling me, ‘ Freddy, somehow, some way, they’re getting ready to punch your ticket again!’ And deep down, I knew my instincts were right!

“No, it was not a big dose of ego, it was just the way my life worked.

“And sure enough, when I walked back to my desk, I knew I had been right. …

And the action begins….

A story you can’t help but love for its irony, its insights, its compassion and its knowledge of Brooklyn….

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Adventure Series:

The Costume Party
Author: Les Aaron
_______________________________________________
From the Introduction:

The time had come. Alex Schnerkin had made his decision. It was now only a question of how he would do it. Damon would be the means. He already knew that. And he knew that if he were going to go through with it, he would have to act quickly. Time was running out. If he hesitated, especially now, he knew it would be over for him. What was even more disturbing was that he had placed the others in jeopardy. He couldn’t live with that thought. He was out of time. And out of options..

Alex put the evidence in his case and walked out the door of his apartment. For some reason, he felt feverish yet it was nearly freezing outside. He walked briskly, yet cautiously, his eyes darting from side to side as he boarded the subway for the hour’s ride into the city. In the cold winter days, it grew dark early. The rush hour had been over for nearly thirty minutes now and he found the trains were mostly deserted. The detritus of the crowds still clung to the seats. The half finished coffee cup; the orange rind; newspapers scattered around the floor.

Once again, he checked the case under his arm as if to assure himself that everything was still there. He wiped his brow with a crumpled napkin that he found in his jacket. He looked out into the night and breathed a sigh of relief. Deep down he was feeling good about what he was doing. It would free him at last.
___________________________________________________________________________



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SciFi & Adventure

The Lottery
By les Aaron …
EXCERPTS FROM CHAPTER ONE…


It was while working as an administrator for the Executive department at Channel One Thousand that Lonnie began to notice certain odd things happening. At first, he dismissed them out of hand. First, it wasn’t that he could actually put his finger on. Nothing specific like that. Only that a lot of little things were happening around him that didn’t seem to add up. He kept his observations to himself and wondered possibly if he wasn’t imagining these seeming contradictions and that possibly they were more the result of psychological stress brought about by his former drinking binges.

The truth was, however, that after a year of therapy, he had managed to get his compulsive drinking under control, and, as a result, was wending his way back from the precipice. He had taken to an exercise regimen that had restored his muscle tone and he was hard at work attempting to rebuild musculature. As evidence of his comeback, he had started dating again, this time with another Channel 1000 newsperson...and he was making good progress on putting his past where it belonged.

A few days before the Annual Media Awards ceremony. Lonnie was working late trying to catch up with some back paperwork. He noticed one of the files he had been working on was missing and speculated that his boss had inadvertently taken it when he had slipped out earlier to get a breath of fresh air.

He didn’t think his boss would mind if he retrieved the paperwork so that he could continue his report.

As it turned out, Lonnie’s boss had apparently stepped out for a few moments, leaving the door open. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. Lonnie stepped inside gingerly and spotted the file he had been looking for sitting where he expected to find it, on the top of his boss’ desk.

Quite by accident, he also happened to notice a memo that obviously was not for wide distribution sitting atop the in basket. He read it quickly...and his face grew pale. It was true! Something was obviously going on. He knew that now. He also realized that it would not be good for him to be caught in a compromising situation, reading memoranda addressed to his supervisor.

Lonnie took the memo and left the office, his mind racing. What could he do now? Who would believe him now? He needed proof. He could let his boss see him in this mood. Lonnie was feeling his insides go into overdrive. It would be a dead giveaway. He needed to go home...to have a calming drink. Yes, that was it. He grabbed his jacket, slipped the files under his arm and left.

He sat staring at the telecommunicator. He felt dazed.

It was blaring out lie after lie. He couldn’t take it anymore. He leaped out of his chair and kicked it as hard as he could, causing it to explode sending out shards of glass across the room.

“Those rotten bastards,” he screamed out. “I can’t believe they are doing this….”
On the pocket scanner appeared the following: “Fourth Annual media Presentation Awards Scheduled for Friday:...”


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A Novel of Secret Agencies With Secret Agendas
And A Plan to Change the World As We Know It….



“All the Good Men...”
Les Aaron

FROM THE INTRODUCTION TO ALL THE GOOD MEN:



In Classified File:

In recorded time, extraordinary events have often begun in very ordinary ways...Such was the case with the ASOP file labeled Top Secret: Infinity.

____________________________________________
Prologue:
It was a day unfit for either dogs or cats. The tail end
of the hurricane that had spent most of its power wrecking havoc and destruction along the Carolina coast still contained strong winds and driving rains when it reached New Jersey.

The wind drove the rain horizontally through the open bedroom window of the large four bedroom house sitting atop the hill. As far as houses go, it would have been considered distinctive in many other localities. But in Short Hills, it was just another rich man’s home in an community of rich men’s homes.

Pablo Guzman went to the window to close it to keep the rain from coming in and spattering against the floor; then went back to sit on the bed. He had been oblivious to the wind and the rain until he noticed that his expensive alligator attaché was getting wet.

That was unlike Guzman, a methodical man, a scientist by trade with a government Agency that performed exotic research at a secret North Jersey site.

He sat on the bed motionless for nearly five minutes. Two open suitcases of expensive leather sat open by his side. Although the temperature in the room was a controlled 68 degrees, beads of sweat stood out on his temples.

Finally, he got up, in a labored way, as if he were in physical pain, and headed towards the mahogany chest. He pulled open one drawer after another, throwing the contents into the open suitcases. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason. He worked as if his mind were somewhere else.

It didn’t take long to clean out the drawers. When that was done, he reached down by the side of the bed and hefted the heavy $300 attaché onto the bed and opened it by twirling the dials on a combination lock. He tossed aside a couple of papers to lay hands on a file
marked “Top Secret.”

Pablo removed the file from his case and looked at the pages as if to convince himself that it was all there. Then, somehow reassured with what he found, he returned the file to the case. As he did so, he could not help notice the gleaming 38 nickel plated revolver sitting next to it.
.
He removed the revolver from the case. He sat again on the bed and stared at it. He felt its heft in his hand. In some ways, it felt comforting to have it next to him. If anything, he would not go out without a fight. Not this time. He knew that. There was just too much at stake.

He returned the revolver to the attaché case, closed it and spun the dials. Then Guzman checked his watch again; it was the fourth or fifth time in less than five minutes. Hurriedly, he got up and stood over the suit-cases. He realized he was missing some things. He walked as if in a daze to the closet and pulled out two jackets, a windbreaker and an overcoat. Except for the overcoat, he threw the rest haphazardly into the larger case.

With that, he closed both cases, threw his coat over his arm and picked up the attaché. And with his other hand, he checked to see if he had his car keys.

He patted the pocket and then took one last look in the mirror. He couldn’t believe what he saw reflected there, mumbled something under his breath and walked out of the bedroom without looking back.

On the way out to the front door, he stopped at a desk, removed a single piece of white paper and wrote a brief note.

It read:

Dear Leah,

Something terrible has happened and I don’t have time to explain now. I apologize for having to tell you like this but there is no other way.

If you should hear that something has happened to me, go the bank and take out everything. Make sure you include all of the papers from the safe deposit box. . I have made sure that there is enough money in our accounts to tide you over.

You will find a notebook among the papers which you must read carefully. It will explain everything. After you’ve read the book, put it someplace safe. Say nothing to anyone.

I implore you to take the children and stay with your mother until you hear that everything is alright. If everything goes as planned I will call you in two weeks time.

If I fail, remember that I always loved you and the children. I am sorry for putting you through this, but it is out of my hands.

With all my love,
Pablo

He realized it wasn’t a very good letter but he couldn’t think very clearly now and it would have to do until he could call to explain.

He folded the note and placed it where Rhea would be sure to see it. Just then, he thought he thought he heard a sound like a footstep on a loose board. He whirled around, all of his senses at fever pitch. He pressed himself against the wall. He was sure of it now. It wasn’t something he was imaging..

But where did it come from? He couldn’t be sure. He reached down to the attaché, spun the dials, and reached for the revolver. His hand was sweaty on the cool handle.

Now, it was quiet. Nothing.

He could feel his heart beating like a drum. Then he detected something funny, a strange kind of pervasive odor that assailed his nostrils. . It made him slightly dizzy at first. Almost instantaneously, he started to have trouble breathing. He clutched at his throat and then collapsed. It had taken less than a minute.

Three figures stood in the shadows. Two came forward wearing masks to protect them from the invisible gas. One took a small black kit from his pocket and removed a syringe, tested it and then injected the contents into the vein of Pablo Guzman. Then both men carried his limp figure into the connected garage.

The third man, still wearing the gas mask, moved into the room, picked up the folded slip of white paper, glanced at it and then stuck it into his jacket. He then moved into the bedroom. He opened all of the doors and didn’t find anything he was looking for. He returned to the living room and took a small package out of his pocket and made some adjustments. Then he picked up Pablo Guzman’s two bags and attaché and walked back in the same direction as the other two men.

Five minutes after the car pulled away, there was a loud explosion that sent fingers of fire reaching into the sky. People scattered in all directions. But the three men continued on their way, a slumped figure between them, without even so much as a backwards glance.
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Twenty Years After Vietnam, Our Misadventures Catch Up With Us With a Cabal
That Aims To Change Our World in Very Fundamental Ways…
This begins as a Spy Story and Morphs into a Threat That Literally Challenges the World. From Vietnam, Korea, Hong Kong, Japan to the Halls of the inner chambers of the top level planners ensconced behind their screens at the White House, this story transcends the commonplace with the challenges it portends and a turn of events that is beyond our wildest imaginations. Yet, it plays out before our eyes in events unfolding around the world that bring us to the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates for a chilling climax—the place where civilization began may also be where it ends!....


A Failure of Will
By Les Aaron
___________________________________________
Forward to a Failure of Will….

Place: Danang
Time: December 1968

Adam crawled out of his foxhole. Incoming rounds were dropping all around. The Viet Cong were zeroing in their mortars. The last one was so close he could literally feel the “whoosh” before it landed.

He crawled as fast as he could to the huge medical tent across a hundred yards of open ground. His knees were scraped and bleeding. Breathing hard, he got into a crouch, and made the final ten yards to the tent in a series of dashes…. It was like the old days when he was a broken field runner for his school team, except now he was running for his life. And there were shells exploding all around, kicking up dirt and debris as the shrapnel ripped through anything still standing….

Adam reached the tent just as a mortar round dropped about 20 feet off to his left; he lurched towards the flap, lifted it and rolled inside compressing himself into the smallest possible target. He realized he had assumed a fetal position. He shook uncontrollably, trying to catch his breath. All he could hear was his own panicked breathing. His heart was pounding like a drum. After what seemed like minutes, he raised his head to look around. It was hard to see. What little light there was came through the jagged holes from mortar fragments and projected inside like a movie camera gone wild. Strange, he thought, the shelling had stopped the moment he entered the tent. Now, everything seemed too quiet, almost serene.. He guessed that the last round had damaged his hearing at least temporarily. He couldn’t be sure. He applied pressure to his ears with the cup of his hand but it didn’t seem to matter. No sound seemed to come out of the seemingly unending line of bodies wrapped in bandages, hooked up to intravenous bottles, that seemed to stretch out as far as the eye could see.

It was a GM assembly line but instead of cars, it was people wrapped in bandages as far as the eye could see: The ultimate visual symbolism of man’s technological world gone berserk. In their eerie stillness, the inert bodies seemed like some archeological find. A tomb of the Kings with their mummified remains in almost perfect perspective. What would be their end, he wondered. And was he witnessing it now. He knew that beneath their homogenizing bandages, there were young boys who had never been away from home before; boys who were frightened and unsure of what would happen to them. There were real people under those bandages who
had lives and families and friends. It was too sad to contemplate rationally. He noticed something else: There was no staff. What had happened? Had they fled? Were they trying to save their own skins? No. In all good conscience, he couldn’t believe that. That was too cynical, even perverse.. Doctors don’t just leave their patients. His first thought was whether they were okay. Had they simply taken refuge during the shelling. He didn’t know. He had to find them. He suspected that they might be down at the far end of this tattered worn piece of canvas that barely sheltered its charges. It was too dark to see anything clearly..

He squinted trying to make out something, anything. He could barely make out a single light bulb burning in the distance. It was one of those cheap exposed bulbs. It seemed far away, all the way down the other end of this tangle of conjoined tents that seemed to be a hanging onto each other like a couple of old drunks trying to keep from falling. The pin-pricks of light shining through accentuated the free-form shape of the tents giving the interior the semblance of a darkened cathedral with rays of light criss-crossing back and forth across each other. In the reflected light, the countless bodies swathed in bandages seemed to form a strange kind of eerie perspective vanishing off into the darkness. There was a surreal quality about it all.

. . It was clear that he stood in the middle of a large area, maybe used for processing new patients. Openings led off to passageways left and right.. As he kept walking on rubbery legs, the path seemed to converge and become increasingly constricted, as if he were heading into a funnel formed from an endless wall of beds on either side. He had always hated confined spaces as a child; now it was all coming back to him. He started to sweat even though it was cool outside. He looked down the constricted aisle and observed how odd it seemed in the reduced light. Still, he could hear nothing.

The bulb appeared further away than he had first thought. He called out hoping that someone would hear his voice.. But there was no answer. As he moved down the narrow corridor formed by the lines of half-filled cots, he heard a sound from behind. That was a good sign. He hadn’t lost his hearing fully…and that was encouraging.

. It was a high pitched sound, a grating noise like metal rubbing against metal coming from far behind him. He turned around but saw nothing. That’s odd, he thought. And then he heard it again. The strange squeaking sound seemed to be growing louder and shriller. He could feel the vibrations through his skin and it made him shudder; yet still he saw nothing.

Without realizing it, he found himself moving at a quicker pace down the darkened corridors to the light ahead. He looked left and right into the makeshift quarters but could make out little.

The noise that had started as a barely discernable sound now seemed to be growing in intensity. He tried to control his feelings but could not quell a growing sense of unease. He turned to face the strange sound hoping to discover the source. . Now, he could see something. There was something tangible there, blurry but tangible. He was sure of that.. He strained hard trying to make it out. But it was a vague shapeless form. However, that didn’t describe it fully. It was more than that. There was something familiar there. From a distance, it appeared something that resembled the wide spiraling limbs of an eight armed beast ...or a swirling cluster of tentacle-like arms connected in some inextricable way to a central vortex that moved in its own right, something that was somehow fluid yet solid.. He knew his eyes were playing tricks on him in the reduced light and he suspected he sustained some trauma from the mortar barrage.

It had to be something he could understand; something he could mentally integrate. . He was letting himself be carried away by his emotions. He knew he was making more of it than he should; he intuitively knew that it had to be an optical illusion of some kind. Nevertheless, in spite of himself, he found his legs moving faster towards the uncoated light bulb down at the end of the hall.

No matter how fast he walked, this strangely shaped thing seemed to be gaining.. He turned again, trying to define what the shape was. He tried blinking; but his eyes began to water, clouding his vision even more. There were too many shadows that cast strange shapes, making it impossible to know what was real and what was imagined. He called out again but it did not answer. Just the continuing sound from before. Suddenly, he discerned another noise that was quite different from the one before. It was a sound that tore at his insides. It was horrible. It reminded him of the moans of those hopeless souls depicted in a Bosch triptych. It was worse than anything he had ever heard. That ungodly sound combined with the increasingly shrill sound of before started to work on his growing unease. He could feel his heart beginning to race. He realized that he needed to regain his control. None of this made any sense. He had to be experiencing a form of shock; he had seen it happen to others after being shelled. He did not believe in the supernatural; and he was too old to start changing his ways. He realized, too, that there had to be a rational explanation for all of this. Get a grip on yourself, boy, he admonished himself. Hesitantly, he turned again fully expecting what he had thought he had seen to be gone. But it was still there and gaining. There was, of course, a rational explanation and he knew it. In fact, it was beginning to seem as if all of the little dots were coming together to form faces that he knew. .

The light was still far away. So he couldn’t make things out too clearly but his fear was subsiding. But his chest was still clamoring and he hadn’t slowed his pace. Moreover, now he was angry with himself. He had let his sense of dread take over his common sense. What was wrong with him, he wondered. . . Stop this nonsense, he repeated to himself. You are a grown man acting like a child. He turned again to face down the shape. The shape was not of another world; it was something real, something tangible that he could wrap his mind around. He made it out to be a conveyance of some sort. Yes, now he realized that it was simply a battered old wheelchair. The squeaking was undoubtedly due to the fact that one of the wheels looked twisted and probably never made it to maintenance.

He looked closer. Yes,he was sure of it now. It was a wheelchair filled with two wounded GI’s pushed by three others, also wounded. He breathed a sigh of relief. How silly was he to have let his imagination get the best of him.

My God, they were safe after all. Why didn’t he know that. Why hadn’t he been told. But, no, now he remembered. They had all been given up for lost. So how could they be here? Was God pulling a trick on him. Was he being intentionally mislead? He didn’t know but now he was impelled to find out….And then as he approached the rusty old wheel chair, it all faded to black….

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Black Humor: the Adventures of Freddy Black

BOOK RECOMMENDATION: FOR THE NEW READER.
The first of the Freddy Black Series.
A tour de Force of Real World Brooklyn and its People!.....

Authors Choice: If you love the New York of the 50’s and 60’s, you’ll love the people and the places in this book and this fast paced novel aimed at dethroning an entire cabal of new criminals who seek to take over…BUT CLEARLY THEY DIDN’T KNOW THEN OR WOULD THEY EVER KNOW THAT NOBODY OWNS BROOKLYN!....

Alfie and the Big Brooklyn Bagel Blow-Out!...
By Les Aaron

Introduction

Alfie Buys It Big Time....

It was sort of like that.
Who would have believed it?...
But they yanked it out of his throat, Pudgy said. A big doughy mass. Big Alfie, the terror of Bklyn. Croaked on a bagel and not even a schmeer in sight. Was that justice or what?

They said that they found him down by the Cadman Street exit off the bridge. Not any bridge you understand, “the Bridge!” You know the one I’m talking about...the one that goes to Brooklyn-- the one that proved to all the “naysayers” that strands of wire, tightly woven and formed into cables could support just about anything --even Aunt Lee with her stiff corsets and all the gold she brought over from the old country -- the Bridge that brought two cities together to form the biggest city in the world....the one that city slickers thought they could sell to the out-of-town rubes and oftentimes did. The icon that stands for the place in most people’s minds...

Look! Lots of people talk about it; but nobody understands it.. Most have it all have it wrong. Brooklyn is literally beyond comprehension. Even though it’s bigger than most places, including it’s neighbor Manhattan… even though its real population is more than 4 million people (nobody knows the real population)...even though its made up of some ninety ethnic groups....and its immigrants come from every place in the world every year to get lost in the countless ethnic barrios that crisscross its geography like so many veins and arteries and swell its ranks till it almost implodes, it is still the ultimately unknowable place.

.But, of course, the die-hards will tell that Brooklyn’s not what it was...now that the Dodgers are dodging palm trees instead of trolley cars....and Ebbets Field has transmogrified from a ball park into a housing project....and George Tilyou’s Steeplechase Park is no longer where you can ride a metal horse , tumble down onto a spinning turntable, get your skirt blown over your head and even get poked by midget clown with a cattle prod. No, we have been spared all of that. Now that the Brooklyn Eagle--the paper that was prescient enough to fight the union between Brooklyn and the city across the river-- has been reduced to a Brooklyn pigeon...and the downtown Brooklyn Paramount-- where if Rock and Roll was not born it was nurtured-- is busy saving souls...and nothing else is what it was except for a few aging Brooklyn Polar Bears who still jump into the waters off Coney every January to prove that they are alive despite the fact that most of their kids have written them off as being hopeless romantics.

...Nevertheless, the endless boardwalk of dreams is still there,... the elevated line still deposits you on Stillwell,...the crunchy, crispy, juicy original Nathan Handwerker hot dogs across the street still beckon….Prospect park is still playing host to lovers even though they may whisper sweet nothings to each other in recondite languages ....... the Gowanis ,with its enduring stench, is still the unofficial cemetery for half of Brooklyn’s mobsters,... the tawdry VFW hall is still there, the one that straddles the site where a few hearty Marylanders forfeited their lives so that our country’s leader could escape to fight another day and, in the process, create a county the likes of which the world has never seen. And the Heights’ promenade, if anything, has the one thing that Manhattan does not, unparalleled views of a city without parallel, an ever-changing montage of buildings, harbor and a skyline that stretches to infinity with its vertical twinkling lights that make heaven and earth look the same,.... And the famous and not so famous are still being interred in Brooklyn’s own Greenwood cemetery in condo-like mausoleums festooned with everything except the ubiquitous TV antenna (we are assured that that will not be long in coming) ... the no longer cobble stoned streets of downtown Brooklyn still exist in their myriad permutations, although today the trolley cars that earned the Dodgers their name are missing; nevertheless, they masses yearning to be free still come in record numbers speaking every language and dialect known to man,...and Bay Ridge is still fundamentally alive and hopping with its scores of gaily festooned Irish bars serving its myriad brews distilled from oats and grain and even rice until the last standing Irishman falls off his stool and calls it quits...and South Brooklyn is still as colorful as ever with its scores of Italian clubs where grown men sit around all day and gossip or play bocce at the local park....and there are still hundreds, maybe thousands of little restaurants that now cater to the invading Yuppies from “the City” and points west --except now they serve up a world stew of sushi, empanadas, grits and greens, mulligan stew, Norwegian meatballs, kasha, blintzes, won tons, crepes, bracciola, sui mei, mei fun, noodles a thousand different ways, borscht, hibachi steak, angel hair pasta, Lebanese pizza, burritos, gnocchi….and who knows how many other concoctions too wild too imagine--and make no mistake about it, Brooklyn is still home to more churches than anywhere else....only, today, some of them have been transmuted into condos, or offices, or play centers for urban kids. That’s the Brooklyn of today....the Brooklyn of lawyers, judges, artists, accountants, carpenters, retailers, techies, and even the Big Alfies of the world -- the bedroom community for countless wealthy New Yorkers and working class strivers and the misfits who don’t fit in anywhere else and the immigrants of every nation on earth making it one of the most colorful landscapes in America. But that’s a whole other issue and not why we’re here today.

Today, is Alfie’s day....or should I say more accurately, Alfie’s last day. And that’s what we’re here to remember.

Not that too many people will record it as any great loss to humanity. If there was ever an archetypal hero, Alfie was not it

Of course, there were no witnesses.

There never are when the best you could hope for is cement overshoes. Anybody who wonders how there can be no witnesses out of 4 million people obviously misses the point and certainly doesn’t know Brooklyn.

The simple fact is, as any Brooklyn native will tell you, when you decide to give someone up, my friend, you’d better make out your will and say good-bye to everyone you know and love, because it is all over. The big mucky-mucks who pontificate about certain inalienable rights, would have you believe that you will be protected under “the system,” at least until the next cutback and then you are so much dead meat. Even if you move to Peoria, the guys with the swarthy complexions and drooping mustaches will find you. In point of fact, being a witness is probably the unhealthiest line of work there is.

In the old neighborhood, Alfie was called a bad news guy. That’s kind of Brooklyn shorthand for the kind of guy you didn’t want to cross. A lot of guys who did wound up not breathing any longer with their faces down in a bowl of pasta.

(It’s funny how that works. You never of anyone getting blitzed over a bowl of borscht...or pot roast or jumbalaya. It’s always pasta. And the victim’s head is always in the sauce.. Knowing the statistics, it would seem that the way to a long life and good health is to eliminate pasta and sauce from your diet completely and never give up anybody, ever. . Then you would be onto something. . I know for a fact that Brooklyn insurers already provide discounts in premiums for those who elect to stay out of Italian restaurants. It’s the mystical clause number 17; nobody ever talks about it and seldom is it written up but when they write your policy, and if you fit the bill, clause number 17 is definitely something you should haggle over. . And if I’ve given away a big secret, well that’s how it goes.)

Anyway, Big Alfie was known as the Brooklyn bagel king.. I mean if you wanted anything to do with those indigestible “cheerios” with thyroid trouble, you had to go through Alfie. It was like a right of passage. And if you hit it off, and the kick back was good, you were in business... And from then on out, you had it made. Alfie took care of you and you took care of Alfie. And that’s the way it always was...or so it seemed. And that made the world go round. Which by itself was not all that bad a deal. See what I mean? You can rationalize virtually anything; that is if you’re motivated enough..


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Environmental Challenges, Global Warming and the Crisis of Fossil Fuels

An Environmental Thriller: What is Really Happening Out There as Our Government’s Secret Agenda Clashes with the Real World. How Science is demeaned and derided for taking issue with Government’s Total Dependence on Fossil Fuels.

The Whole Shebang: Who profits; Who Doesn’t in a World Out of Control.




“FINAL WARNING”
by
Les Aaron
Introduction:

Buddha rules

The Secret Pentagon Report was in. The secretive think tank, The Office of Policy Review, headed up by the guru of the Pentagon—a visionary planner who has never publicly revealed his identity—a man whose life is made up of shadows and is only known through his code name “Buddha”, had not only prepared but also affixed his personal imprimatur on the following report summarized here and submitted with full documentation to the said subject of the report


NEED TO KNOW

FOR THE PRESIDENT’S EYES ONLY

FROM: OFFICE OF POLICY REVIEW

SUBJECT: CLIMATOLOGICAL ALERT

PRIORITY: ONE

Background:
Following conclusions are the result of an exhaustive and systematic review conducted by this department over the last six months. See full report and documentation attached. Appropriate footnotes and attachments are provided... Timeline on this is marked “Urgent.”

SUMMARY CONCLUSIONS:

The probabilities of occurrence are so high, that it is necessary that we move up the time line.

Reason: To withhold such data this office would deem reprehensible in view of what we now know. According to our best estimates, all affected parties will require maximum time allowance in order to design, develop/ implement plans and procedures to augment their own prospects for survival at a time of great uncertainty.

. Findings: As per research, fully documented and enclosed, there is a very high degree of probability of the following scenario taking place within the near term. The probability is in the range of 80% with an error of approximately 10% according to the credibility of the current data projections.

Findings: Europe will be subjected to conditions that are unimaginable in today’s terms. In effect, we project that a kind of nuclear winter will descend upon Europe. The expected factual occurrences include the following: -- extreme and unique weather conditions unlike any seen before in Western Europe...

One of the greatest challenges should these projections come to fruition: severe flooding. . Our estimates of what life will be like should these projections come to pass are summed up as follows: Life will change dramatically for all those within targeted areas. In addition to flooding, calculations reveal that temperatures could plummet to levels emulating what might be termed Siberian conditions. Such catastrophic events will most likely trigger consequences unseen before. Nuclear wars, famine, mega droughts and other disasters may be among likely consequences. We repeat that these conclusions are the result of our best projections based upon the existing data and while the outcome spelled out here cannot be ruled a certainty, there is sufficient data to suggest that all of those inhabiting target areas be forewarned in order to deal with the high probability of such an occurence...

Consequences:
If these events come to pass, it would be highly likely that supplies of everything from food to energy would run out. Conflicts could be expected to be far-reaching and beyond our ability to conceptualize. And the resulting devastation could be worse than nuclear war.

The projected time line: there is an 50-50 probability that the timetable for the above could be accelerated so that such consequences could impact the target area in as little as six months. There is a better than 80% chance that the above occurrence will occur within twenty years. While twenty years may seem like a reasonable time to take remedial action, the possibility that this catastrophic event may occur in a much shorter time frame, makes the need for timely action much more immediate.

Measures: With a window that is tragically narrow, we recommend the calling of an immediate emergency conference, that the efforts of this conference should be oriented towards mobilizing all necessary services and counter-measures to assist our allies abroad and to provide support and aid for the affected populations. The need for positive action in the light of these projections is imminent and potentially overwhelming.
We await your instructions...

See attached report and complete documentation.

Office of the Director
Buddha”

The president seemingly annoyed with the intrusive nature of this report, glanced at it, mumbled something indecipherable under his breath, put it back in its folder and left it on his desk as he hurried out under Secret Service guard to the waiting helicopter that would take him to Air Force One for his overdue trip to the Southern White House and a week or two of sports-fishing and skeet shooting.

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NEW BOOK….NEW BOOK….NEW BOOK….NEW BOOK….


A Surprise Peak at Where Power Corrupts, the new novel about how a corrupt government uses loopholes ad lies to operate outside of the law and the Constitution to pursue its own agenda with little concern for the people and consequences that are devastating.
Follow a small group of men, called the Guardians, who are sworn not to allow that to happen and the inevitable clash between the forces of good and the forces of Evil that have unpredictable consequences.

Here’s a quick peak:

From the introduction:

“Mark, I don’t know how you’re going to believe this unless you see it for yourself with your own eyes….

Mark looked down at the fast-moving ground from the open door of what he had remembered as the Jolly Green Giant, the helicopter that had saved many a GI who had crashed behind enemy lines in Nam. The new version was larger and expanded and seemed more powerful than he remembered.

it was growing dark and they were over an obscure area of the Midwest. He guessed he was somewhere over Northern Wisconsin, near the Dells, and not that far as the crow flies from the border. This was an area largely unfamiliar to him, making it hard to pick up recognizable details from the large maps that we’re stretched out over the navigators panel and fluttering in the turbulence stirred up by the whirling blades above that made it hard to talk.

“There you go, amigo!” pointed out Scott pointing over to the southwest.

“What am I looking at? It’s hard to make out,” asked Mark.

“That’s it, baby. The new roadway, the super highway that the government says doesn’t exist.”

“What the hey? My eyes have to be playing tricks on me. …I don’t believe it.”

Mark removed his high speed digital Nikon with the powered advance out of his camera case and proceeded to take shot after shot of the locale beneath him. Fortunately, it was outfitted with a special low light lens that would make the terrain easier to interpret than with the naked eye under darkening conditions.

“Okay, mates. We’re going to land up north near that border and switch to land transportation.”


Where we headed?”

“I’m going to keep that a surprise.”

“Okay, okay.”


The giant Bell copter made a perfect landing and shut off its engines. The men filed out single file through the sloping rear doors onto the flat terrain that gradually rose over about a quarter mile to form what appeared to be foothills to the steeper slopes behind. The trail seemed to head into a copse of thick pines that limited vision further north. The descending grayness was getting thicker now and it became more difficult to see the gradients between land and sky.

They had reached their target window and now it was time to move.

Scott told the combat team that there were uniforms and night goggles in the van and they should change now. Footwear changed to insulated mountain boots with heavy duty wool socks. .

A Land Rover was then lowered from the copter.

“Where we going now?”

“Guys, from here, we’re headed over the border. I’ll give you coordinates once we’re on the road. I will give you a signal when we approach the enemy territory. Please keep it down; we will go silent when I signal you—then we move according to hand signals. Am I clear on this. Let’s not forget this is a mission to observe; not to take action!

“You are all professionals; I don’t want any slip ups here! Any questions?”

Let me remind you, chaps, we are doing this mission without approval of the Secretary. We are on our own here. If we are caught, we cannot count on outside help. Do you read.”

“Yes, sir, major.”

Scott, the highest ranking trooper among them, looked around.

“Okay, guys, lets shake a leg.”

The Land Rover, equipped for silent running, started to creep forward.

After nearly a half hour of difficult off road driving, it was clear to them that they had crossed an unguarded border crossing.

Mark was surprised that the border was unguarded.

“Mark, there’s a lot of these—there are just not enough Immigration folks to man most of the posts so they depend on the honor system; up til now, there has never been a problem.”

“So much for the security promised by Homeland,” replied Mark.


“It was always a joke, Mark. Just nobody talked about it. It was the Emperor has no clothes all over again. We made believe that everything was okay by ignoring it. Many of the serious guys took this the hard way. But the ‘kiss ups’ had no problem with it….”

Most of the driving was through undergrowth aided by a special night goggles and a global positioning system. The drivers and the special squad had night scopes and glasses which projected the foreground in a fuzzy green color that made everything look unreal and two dimensional.. Even though the newer models were much improved over the original versions, the glasses still took some getting used to unless used regularly.

The squad traveled light. Each man was outfitted with binoculars and special night goggles; each was equipped with two weapons, a 9mm Beretta and a folding stock Israeli manufacture submachine gun. One man, Carter, carried a scope and sniper rifle with flash suppressor. Each man also carried both a stun and a smoke grenade to be used only if necessary, a commando knife with serrated edge, a compass, water, compass, matches, a light folding blanket, a flash light with special filters and light weight poncho, water and a sleeping bag with net in the event of extreme weather conditions or finding themselves without a way home. They also carried enough food for two days. After that, they would have to revert to their hunting skills…..

Beyond that, they were on their own.

Their instructions were to get in and out without being observed and that’s what they trained for. They hoped that they would not have to fire a weapon but if they did, they could give a very good accounting of themselves. Most had been rangers or special ops troops who had volunteered for this assignment because of their personal relationship with the man, the Commandant of all Marine forces…. They knew they were taking chances; but there was no other way to get the information they needed..

“Okay, mates, we are going to debark here and head up to the target area by foot.
We have by my reckoning another three miles to go but this is as close as we can afford to get by vehicle. All out, on my count…”.


Scott led the group. Carter with his snipers rifle, the latest one out of the lab and an advanced scope, came up the rear.

In the indistinct light, it seemed that the patrol was headed for a covered rise judging from the incline they were traversing. It was a gradual rise climbing up about twenty feet for every hundred feet covered horizontally. And it was covered by underbrush.

It took them the better part of two and a half hours of hard climbing and cutting through bush to stop and assess their progress…

Scott, up front, had signaled for the rest of the squad to halt.

The scout posted advance of the main body of the squad had spotted something and they wanted to reconnoiter.

The scout back tracked to the head of the squad speaking in low tones to Scott.

Scott told him to return to his position. In the meantime, he would brief the rest of the men.

It appeared that from their position they were overlooking a cluster of buildings in what appeared to be a clearing that began about 300 yards out from the beginning of the overhang.

The cluster of buildings was contained with some kind of fence network. Several men were seen in what appeared to be guard positions.

Scott asked Clark to accompany him with his camera.

They moved to the edge of the clearing.

Clark tried to adjust his eyes to the greenish images.

The scout had been right. There were a half a dozen squat looking buildings resembling chicken huts but higher that could contain people. Outside of the fence was another square- shaped building and what appeared to be a guard post.

“That’s it, said Scott.”

“That’s what?”

“That’s what we’ve been searching for. There have been rumors that men who were getting ready to report on the NAU or had spotted the roadway had simply vanished.
I will bet anything we will find them here.”

“I don’t believe it.”

‘You will.”

“Let’s check it out, said Scott.”

‘How close can we get without being spotted, asked Clark.”

“We’ll head for that clump of trees about 75 yards away from the main gate. We should be okay.”

“Okay, your call.”

They crouched, then crawled to the treed area. There Clark saw another building. He was also close enough that he could make out voices.
“I can’t make out what they are saying.”

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“Spanish?”

“There are armed Mexicans at the Canadian border guarding a prison camp for Americans? Is this somebody’s idea of humor.”

“No, afraid not, Clark.” .

“Mother would never believe this….
But why?”

“/Because they are the one’s who can spill the beans.
They were caught at their game and as a result they were whisked away.”

“Holy cow!”

“And you asked ‘why?’ Do you really want to know?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, here goes: We are here to save them from taking over America…..”

Due for publication September 2008.

Advance orders accepted now.

Those who reserve will receive an advanced,. Personally inscribed FIRST EDITION….


18.65 plus h&p in advance

Please use the built in order form or send your check to LAACO, 239 Lakeside Drive, Lewes, DE 19958. If you are not completely satisfied, you may return the book within seven days for your refund (exclusive of s&h)….



The book that takes no prisoners
“A Political Tour de Force that nobody had the courage to say!”

A Blueprint for Winning: Taking Back the White House

CAUTION: IF YOU DO NOT BELIEVE CHANGE IS WARRANTED BY A GOVERNMENT IN DISARAY THAT OPERATES IN THE DARK TO FULFILL ITS OWN AGENDA WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF THE GOVERNED, THEN DO NOT PICK UP THIS BOOK OR READ IT.

This book is an unalloyed attack on the regime that has controlled Congress and the White House for twenty of the last twenty eight years. America was founded on the concept of representative government and the rule of law.
We are a nation based on the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. Before our eyes, we are seeing all of our gains reversed, all of our beliefs sacrificed as secret agendas and the desire to monopolize all fossil fuels drive us to the edge of insanity. Americans do not need to be controlled with the use of abject fear; We need our country back and this monologue reminds us of what has occurred in the past and what we need to do to restore American Democracy; it also features a twenty point program to promulgate America’s leadership in the world and regain our standing among nations. It is packed with need to know information for the political activist who is tired of this Reign of Terror…








..

Progressive Politics and Program for Change

A BLUEPRINT FOR WINNING!
Taking Back the White House in 08!
uthor: Les Aaron
published by
LAACO LLC Publishing Company

Author’s note:

This limited initial edition is being produced for those who have understood and tolerated six years of my grumpiness, “bah humbug!” attitudes and anger at the insulting indignities and abuses that this government has heaped upon us and their willingness to sacrifice our hope for their own short term gain. …. It is my humble way of saying “thank you,”…”thank you,” and “thank you” for being there when I was feeling as if the world had imploded, that Americans had to be either the dumbest or the most disconnected people on earth after I’d kicked in my fourth TV. If nothing else, this book is designed to give it back in spades and constitutes a reason to feel good, to believe that there is a God and there is hope and maybe, just maybe we will be able to undo eight years of self-interest in government. It leaves few stones unturned; everything is fair game; it talks tough; and it is as frank as I can make it. So the cathartic effect is well earned!. .I’ve hopefully left nobody off the hook!...

If you’ve followed my editorials, I’m sure you know that this tome has riveted my attention for the last five years and dominated most aspects of my life. It has also cost me the affections of some of the members of my Republican family and a few friends who I knew less about than I thought and has added a dimension to the way I look at things now.

Nevertheless, I have been guided by the two essential truisms that I learned from my dad: Bullies and liars should be exposed for what they are and simply not tolerated. And the truth shall govern everything. He also warned me against those who like to wear their religion on their sleeves and are perhaps a little too anxious to point out the faults of the rest of us…. He has been right on both scores!

Most of those who denigrate others religion or values, tend to be hypocrites themselves. If we need to be reminded, Jesus rose above self-importance; he served to show the rest of us that the path to salvation was compassion and understanding. But this book is not about religion or phony values or promises or anything else. It is about revealing the truth and laying the groundwork for our future.

The book has finally come together after many missteps, two computer crashes, my own hyperactive involvement in trying to fix all of the bad stuff
that goes on, an obsession with the big picture and the corresponding avoidance of the detail aspects, much introspection and a good deal of hand wrenching. After the initial run, we shall self publish and make the book available to everyone who has ever foamed at the mouth, cursed in frustration or otherwise felt ashamed to be represented by this cabal of liars, crooks and phony heroes who think only of themselves and their own personal agendas. The decision has been made to release this unexpurgated, uncensored CONFIDENTIAL EDITION.

We renamed the book in the final count down to the midterms in recognition that the Democrats would win the first round,’ …“ A BluePrint for Winning: Taking Back the White House in 08!”
This is book is as much an indictment of democrats as it is a chronicle of what republicans have done to dismantle our Great Society programs and other legislation that benefits special interests. Make no mistake about it, a democratic win will have to be earned over the next two years; it will not happen automatically because the Republicans will be working doubly hard to blame us for everything that could possibly go wrong and they have the “clout” and the dollars to become a serious roadblock—if we let them!.....


Where possible, we have updated the text to reflect the changes just up to the mid-terms in order to make this book as current as possible in the light of the current republican confusion and malaise with everyone seemingly scurrying for cover.. We have also made this book both harder hitting and more incisive while hopefully providing hope for change.. One thing you will know is that it is as faithful to the truth as I was able to make it. I hope you will help it circulate word of it among those who care what happens to this country and the rest of us who feel so defiled, violated and “dirtied” by our association with this regime of self-centered, Cold Warriors who have shunted the people aside in their rush to have us believe their own view of the world…

A part of profits from this book, incidentally, will be used to further liberal causes through the Committee for Positive Change, an organization that I formed to give backbone and tangible support to progressive and liberal causes.. Thank you for standing by me all this time….

Les Aaron

PREAMBLE:

WARNING:
This book will not make you more popular.
This book will not make you better looking. It will not give you Abs of steel! And it will not put you on the “A” list for parties sponsored by the rich and the beautiful. It will not give you thicker hair, make you more regular or strengthen your bones. It will not keep you from running to the bathroom less. It will not make you more potent, eliminate Erectile Dysfunction or help you to sleep better.

What it will do is make you think.

We guarantee that you will think about politics in a way that you never did before. This book will help you to see how politics much to the surprise of most people influences everything. From who picks your orange juice to who gets your information age job. It determines whether your kids or grand kids go to war, and how we protect our cities against natural disasters. It decides whether Uncle Charlie or Aunt Millie get the medical coverage they need—whether we drill in pristine wilderness or destroy the face of America. It determines whether our children will grow up free and clear of international debt or whether they will be saddled for a debt that they had no responsibility for. It will decide whether you get your monthly social security check and whether the management of that system will remain in government hands or the private sector. It will determine whether we remain a retailing nation or discover our innovative spirit to again lead the world with our technology. It will decide whether we turn the other way when government tells us that air pollution and poisoned water are our legacy and good for America or whether we shall have the courage to view things through fresh eyes, whether we shall commit to recyclables that are non-toxic and good for the environment. It will be responsible for whether we are viewed as a pariah in the world or a partner who is committed to the betterment of mankind. It will decide whether we participate as an equal in the UN and work towards a better, more cooperative world or turn to bullying and aggression as a continuing instrument of policy. It will help you understand that the people who run for office may not have our best interests in mind. Or have the skills or aptitudes to govern justly. All things that we never deemed possible in a land where the poor could become rich and the ugly duckling become beautiful.

Today, all the options are on the table and it is up to us, the people, to decide what we intend to do with them. Unfortunately, because of events, many of these decisions cannot wait…and therefore your involvement cannot wait.

In the end, you will realize that there is only one person responsible for all that happens: YOU

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HAZMAT FOR THE BRAIN

A compilation of editorials, essays, poems, short stories, commentaries, black humor, satire, tongue in cheek, and hard-hitting opinion that you won’t find elsewhere compiled from the Internet websites, Blogs, guest editorials, forums and mailing lists, online and off line journals and magazines and after ten months as editor of the Democracy Chronicle…

NEW!: Hazmat for the brain:

The Red and Blue Editions are now available.

81/2 x 11 edition:
First Editions
Signed copies upon request.

These are editorials produced for online and off line papers, newsletters, Blogs and in newspapers and magazines pertaining to issues of concern to all voters—from the environment to the current wars and span the Bush presidency through 2005. . The articles included are unexpurgated. They cover a broad swath—from the environment to government abuse of our rights-- and reflect the point of view that in the end we belong to a representative democracy and it is our right and obligation to speak out when we feel that our rights are being violated. It is a book that uses humor and satire to point out the foibles of our leadership and to promulgate voter activism….…

Prelisting Special Price:
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