by John Galt

January 31, 2010

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
We don’t need no water let the mother***ker burn,
Burn mother***ker burn.

-The Bloodhound Gang, Fire-Water-Burn

Sorry if you’re offended. Well, maybe not so much.

If you get the hint that I am a bit lighthearted about tonight’s month end market review, well you’re correct. There has been a wave building against this market since the March lows of 666 and the stupidity we have seen over the last two years is about to be highlighted and accentuated by the consequences of a 350% debt to GDP ratio with a government at every level that is clueless; and when I say every level I mean that, be it Executive, Legislative and Judicial. The absurd behavior of our leaders and their minions is about to bring onshore a nasty second wave of the storm that I warned about last summer, you remember right? The one titled “Welcome to the Eye of the Storm” that I wrote about last summer? Here is the latest satellite photo showing the position of the average American citizen in the Great Hurricane of the 2000′s and where we are located now:

Assuming the world’s magnetic poles have not flipped and that hurricanes like the Category 5 Wilma (or Bernanke, your choice) pictured above still move towards the Northeast in general, we are screwed. The storm wobbled, we’re in the eye wall and our leaders are telling us to ignore the rain and wind and go shopping and hire more people. I’ve never, in my entire life so help me God, heard such moronic economic ignorance as I did during President Benson’s speech the other night.

And just like the butler named Benson in that fantastic 1970′s television show Soap, our President essentially said  “I ain’t gettin’ it” and won’t even begin to try. He wants to pay back the voters who dared to raise hell about socialized medicine and the loss of freedoms he wanted to seize. Imagine that won’t you. How dare we contest his wisdom, his brilliance, his plans and dare to question that little dwarf who dispenses Lucky Charms when he’s not doing his Turbo Taxes or acting as the Treasury Secretary by sucking up to Ben Bernanke or Goldman Sachs.

But I digress, I think, because I can.

The markets basically have been voting for weeks and months now and I have been chronicling this nonsense but only (time to freak out commielibs) Glenn Beck paid any attention to me in the MSM. The 1-3-6 rule so far, although not infallible yet, has been telling the tale of the tape. Money is still pouring into the short end of the Treasury market but not so much into equities. Need proof?

1/29/10 Close:

1 Month Yield……………0.005%

3 Month Yield……………0.071%

6 Month Yield……………0.150%

While the banksters view this as a positive, the reality is that the retirees in the United States who are used to the traditional save and relax programs ingrained in over 100 years of the American lifestyle are getting screwed not just by the invisible inflation and lies created by the BLS, they are losing money with every CD they pile their monies into. Just like the foreigners and hedge funds who are praying that the short term Treasury market continues to remain liquid so they can sell out, get their dollars and flee our shores as soon as possible. Money is NOT flowing into equities or long term government bonds. Otherwise these yields would skyrocket above 0.25% each immediately. So where are the dollars going? More on that in another rant….and soon….

I. The Goldman Rule

What we have here is a failure to communicate.

Sorry, my bad, wrong movie, wrong theme for tonight. Or is it? The boys at Goldman Sachs are adding to the votes of the short term bond market by telling old Obamer that they think he and his policies, uh, well, look at the chart and think well, SUCK. Even for the novice market technician, you can see that a death cross is probably imminent on GS and JPM (below) and that will probably be followed by the same on the S&P 500 which appears to be rolling over.  Let’s zoom in on Goldman’s recent action for dramatic effect:

Man, oh, man, oh, man; I haven’t seen a beating like that since the last candidate’s election result that Obamer went to try to help! Oops. That was just last week. Never mind, let’s see if we have a trend here…..

Let’s see. Two major financials; actually THE two major financial non-GSE stocks. Both moved DOWN with huge volume this past month. And Cramer is on television saying it is time to buy the banks again tonight. That bitch would attempt to catch a falling machete in his teeth falling from the top of the Empire State building if he thought he could squeeze a 10 cent per share profit. Oh, okay, that’s a complete exaggeration and I admit it. He’d put your mother and her retirement account out there and tell them to catch it to double their money. Feel better? The truth from these two charts which control oh so much of our economy is that there is a great deal of pain ahead the next 60 days and if you follow GS alone on a daily basis from 3 p.m. forward you have a pretty good idea as to what is happening next in the markets. The fact that both of these major players sliced through their 50 and 200 day moving averages with serious conviction pretty much gives you an idea as to where the markets are heading as a general rule.  In my opinion, I do not see support for Goldman until the stock reaches the 125 area and if it fails there, 100 is pretty much the major support level from a psychological standpoint. By then it would be moot as the rest of the market wold have cratered severely and we would witness all sorts of panic on Wall Street and in D.C.

II. I SPY Trouble

The thing that I spy in this chart is that the SPY (S&P 500 SPDRs) which mirrors the S&P 500 is that the market is telling us that we could be in a world of hurt should it follow up in the months ahead as it dead before. All sorts of market technical red flags have gone up as illustrated by the behavior of GS and JPM above and the cash S&P reflects the move above in the same manner; declining prices on a weekly basis and as prices decline, volume increases, a sure hint that a rout is possible in the near future.

As I demonstrated in the two charts above, the pattern on the weekly charts has returned and that means CNBC gnashing of teeth, crying, whining and further declines in their viewership (Soon to be below the infomercial channel) will occur in all likelihood. Add in the nasty pattern zoomed in over the last six months:

In other words, we’re going to fill that little gap and the bonce between 870-905 could determine a lot of things. I still rely on my original thesis when I predicted a major decline mid-year and the potential for a retest of 666 and if things work properly in the markets without massive interference, a retest of the range from February 1995 to March 1995 in the 467-495 range is entirely possible should the markets violate the 600 price level on a weekly closing basis with volume. Thus the administration might want to quit pissing on the hand that feeds him, aka, the financial industry before they put the BJC tag on him permanently.

Just so you do not think this is a S&P or large cap phenomenon here’s a chart of the Russell 2000 as illustrated by the IWM:

Ouch. The bananas in our Banana Republic continue to rule. And that’s just danged scary when you think about how this administration is treating private enterprise at this moment…

III. Obamanomics = Hoovernomics=Bushnomics=AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!!!!

Yup, that’s from the Bureau of Economic Analysis but I decided to “spice” it up a wee bit with old George crying as the dollar with his picture is dying. The fac that we have managed to run deficits year after year is one thing; the fact that we are running them now to sustain the unsustainable illustrates to a “T” the idiocy of Keynesian economics. For those that think things are improving, well, let’s look at the weekly unemployment claims, without the political, er, seasonal adjustments.

The graph with the crude uptrend line that I have added, pretty much tells the story. No matter how you paint it, the long term trend still appears to be intact and that is for more claims, week after week. No matter the economic voodoo the BLS and current administration attempt to create as a spell over the masses, the hard reality is that more people are filing first time claims and worse, more people are losing their extended benefits, soon to reach 250,000 per week. The loss of emergency benefits in many states will result eventually in an upsurge in social discontent and we do not wish to imagine where that might lead.

To give you some perspective on just how severe the disbelief in the numbers presented by the government are being received and the lack of any appreciable money being shifted from safety to the equity markets, you simply have to watch the 1-3-6 rule and once again this week, the one month bill went negative on the 27th, which indicates that people are running for the safest, most liquid markets to protect capital, yet with the “gee wowsers” GDP number this week and other “improving” statistical indicators, you have to ask yourself why?

Rick Santelli would often scream that this is a horrific short term indicator during the peak of the crisis in the fall of 2008 and spring of 2009, yet few would pay attention. Rick, have no fear, some of us listen to every word you say on the matter.

Thus you take the GDP data, the moves in the equity markets, the flight to the dollar and the relative stability of  the gold markets considering the other moves it does not take much to deduce that nobody wants to make a commitment except for maybe to the short side and worse, despite the best efforts of the Department of Economic Propaganda and their GE owned minions, the world, aka markets, have suspended belief in much of the data being presented to validate the recovery being touted as only a statistical burp for now, with the risk of a double dip more evident than ever. Watch the Goldman Rule and 1-3-6 indicators for some clue as to where not just the markets but our economy is actually heading. I think we may well see a massive down turn in the economy again as the foreclosures accelerate again along with the housing market deteriorating further in the spring of this year.  If the S&P fails to hold 901 then a break to retest the March 2009 lows is quite possibly in the future and that would change the political landscape as much as the fall 2008 crisis guaranteed a massive Democratic victory during that election. The problem with such a move this time is that the consequences with an extreme leftist administration will more than likely expand the level of nationalizations and regulatory expansion instead of allowing the free markets to finish the correction that was being started in the 2002-2003 time period. God help us should that occur for the upheaval on Wall Street would filter down to Main Street in very short order with much more dramatic consequences for unemployment duration and job creation for many years to come, not to mention the final flight of foreign capital from our shores.

(The ORIGINAL Sammy Hagar song all of us old folks know and love)

My dedication song to the Obamaconomy is summed up in the song above……

by John Galt

January 29, 2010

“Yessa masta, weuns going build ya a railroad dat nobody but demz touristas gonna ride.”

(From the 1/29/10 St. Petersburg Times)

That’s right. Shucking and Jiving Crist is there again to suck up to his master. He begs for money like a drunk or drug addict at an exit ramp off of I-275 in St. Petersburg. If that is not indicative of how corrupt the Republican Party in Florida has become, just review the reason why President Obama was here yesterday. The purpose of the visit was to announce that he is showering our state to give $1.25 billion in tax payer dollars back to Florida for a high speed rail project that the Republican Party shoved through the legislature during the recent special session.

Of course the VOTERS, you know, us residents who used to matter, defeated this project several times in previous general elections but the bribes, er, campaign contributions from the contractors who deal with the Florida Department of Transportation and that giant Rat over near Kissimmee managed to “convince” (translation pay for) enough votes to shove this through over the wishes of the  ignorant know nothing voters who do not want to dole out corporate welfare. I hope the whores in Tallahassee spend a moment to reflect on what they have done and enjoy their new master from Washington, D.C.

Because of this project and the still “confidential” report that was never published about all that money lost from the state pension program via Bear Stearns and Lehman,  those Republicans who supported this boondoggle need to be voted out of office at any cost. And the RNC in this state does not deserve one single dime as this project is another indication of the level of corruption in our good old boy state politics being run like Hazzard County in the old Dukes of Hazsard television program.

by John Galt

January 29, 2010

It would appear some degree of sanity is being imposed on the city which thinks that Hitler was too lenient. The town’s reputation has taken major hits in the local papers and a lot of people around here who are not residents of the town with the empty homes are asking where is the common sense with these morons. Well, a judge just imposed some yesterday:

Judge slashes code violations fine imposed by North Port

by John Galt

January 27, 2010

February 25, 2010 5:50 P.M. Central Time, Fergus Falls, MN

After a long day of checking his truck and trailer out, insuring the fence around the property was secured and laying a little bit of Red Brand barbed wire behind a snow drift just beyond his back porch to slow down any troublemakers or snoopers, Mike was ready to sit down, enjoy some coffee with his wife and his best friend’s better half. The work was hard in sub zero temperatures and worse, the strange lights that started towards town that started to flash as the sun set made him think of the bad old days in the jungle.  The smell of dinner made Mike realize once again what it meant to be home and to be with the woman he loved.

The process of removing all of the layers of clothing took a minute or two, but after he finished in the foyer, he put the three two by fours across the door, turned on the outdoors motion activated lighting and headed into the living room to Mrs. Monckton sitting on the couch with a huge cup of coffee. “Mike, how are you doing? We could have helped you out there, ya know,” she said with that polite Minnesotan accent. Mike blushed and said, “Awww, Ma’am, that’s okay. I’ve been out in this winter for years now. It’s no big deal. Besides, I need to warn you and Sally that I’ve set up some barbed wire just beyond the porch behind the snow drift that’s about three feet high. I figure if we see any trouble, it’s going to come from the back part of the property.” Mike walked into the kitchen to see what was cooking and as he put his hands on Sally’s shoulders she said to him, “No you can not have any ham before it’s ready and I heard you about the wire. Don’t worry,  I won’t chase anyone into it unless they need to be sliced and diced like dinner tonight.” Mike snickered and spoke up after that whispering to her, “I’m the hottest ham in the house honey!” She giggled and went back to finishing up dinner as Mike grabbed a cup of coffee to settle down in the living room.

No sooner than the recliner kicked out and he was able to rest his weary feet on it, Mike’s company cell phone rang which startled everyone because there was supposedly little if any cell service yet.  “Let it go, it’s probably a crank,” Mike yelled out to his wife. The phone stopped ringing and the familiar tones of the voice mail rang out.  As Sally was finishing up dinner some twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. Mike yelled out the same thing insisting that whoever it was would have to wait until dinner was over and he turned the ringer to silent mode. Sally began to carve the ham and served up a fantastic meal with some of the bounty of their spring, serving up the home canned squash, tomatoes and okra, and his favorite, creamed corn. To top things off Mrs. Monckton made her famous biscuits for dipping in the ham gravy which everyone in the county agreed should be made a staple at every meal. The hour taken to enjoy the dinner and relax after the stress of the past four days seemed to fly by, but Mike and Sally knew deep in their heart that someone with the company just had to be trying to reach Mike desperately about that stupid load of meat.

Mike tried to dial the number back that he missed but all he heard was a recording with the annoying digital beeps stating:

“THIS IS THE FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS DIVISION OF THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY. YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO MAKE OUTBOUND NON-EMERGENCY CALLS AT THIS TIME. OPERATOR 10969 MIDWEST 3.”

It would repeat then hang up on him. “Guess they’ll call me back if it is that important,” he muttered allowed. While Sally and Mrs. Monckton cleaned the dishes, Mike decided to head out to his truck to see if his Qualcomm unit could get a signal. “Honey, I’m going to fire up the rig and see if I can get any kind of signal, there must be somebody in the office trying to reach me,” he yelled out to Sally.  After throwing some winter gear on, Mike put his shoulder holster on and placed his .357 in it before putting his winter parka on. As he crawled up into the cab and cranked up the truck, he noticed some bright lights, almost like spotlights, out to the west of his ranch about twenty miles away. He sighed, then as the heat finally started to take hold inside the cab, he cranked up the Qualcomm unit to see if the boot up sequence would even work considering he has not been in touch with anyone for days now, at least anyone he trusted.

<BOOT SEQUENCE UPDATE>

<VERSION UPGRADE 022410V6.92OECFCC1011.111291.3314>

<INSTALL COMPLETE>

<REBOOT SEQUENCE>

“What the heck was that all about? Why did it reboot itself after a simple firmware upgrade?,” Mike wondered out loud. After the boot process was complete the new message light at the top began to blink which meant that someone, somewhere, realized that he was still alive and that there must be some work out there somewhere. As Mike watched the scroll complete, he bent over and put his reading glasses on to make sure he was reading this information correctly:

<02.25.10 17:35 EST>

<ATTN UNIT 1024>

<MESSAGE FROM:>

<CENTRAL DISPATCH>

<MIKE-THIS IS OPER MGR FRANK LIEKIWICZ SENDING A BLANKET MESSAGE TO ALL FIELD UNITS IN THE UPPER MIDWEST>

<ALL UNITS HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED TO THE OEC FOR EMERGENCY FOOD DISTRIBUTION SERVICES>

<YOU ARE TO AWAIT ASSIGNMENT AT HOME>

<TWO AGENTS WITH IDENTIFICATION NUMBERS OF 19993 AND 39746 WILL MEET YOU AT 0500 ON 02.26.10 AT YOUR HOME>

<HOMELAND GUARD ESCORT WILL ACCOMPANY THEM AND THEY ARE ARMED FOR PROTECTION PURPOSES>

<PLEASE REPLY TO THIS MESSAGE WITH A CONFIRMATION OF UNDERSTANDING AND WE WILL TRY TO CONTACT YOU ON>

<YOUR COMPANY CELL PHONE AGAIN>

<-FRANK->

After all of this scrolling Mike was incredulous. He was assigned to work for the government even though he had no idea who the OEC was nor how they had authority to force him, as an owner operator, to work for anyone but himself. The blood pressure was building so he responded pounding out on the keyboard the following message:

<TO FRANK>

<WHO THE HELL THINKS THEY CAN FORCE ME TO WORK>

<YOU HAD BEST CALL BY 2100 TONIGHT>

<MIKE>

After pounding on the send key and getting the confirmation that the message was sent, Mike was at least reassured that the Atlanta office was not swallowed up by a black hole and there were people still working somewhere in this nation. With that brief exchange, he cranked the truck down, locked it up and walked around it to make sure the wheel locks were in place and that the equipment could not be moved without triggering enough noise to wake the dead. As he headed into the house the fourteen below temperature did not even phase him as his temper kept him warm all the way into the foyer where after stripping off his winter gear he yelled out to Sally, “You aren’t going to believe this bull these clowns in Atlanta have ordered me to do!” Sally was always pragmatic, always the typical calm, Midwest wife, and ready for this outburst catching him off guard by speaking first, “Honey, they just called you and will call back in five minutes. I told them you were securing your truck and would be back in shortly.”

Mike grunted, walked into the kitchen and made another cup of coffee and sat at the table with a legal pad, a pen and the cell phone sitting on the table.

Mike’s mind drifted off into the idea of starting to smoke again just to bide the time like he did in ‘Nam, but a promise to his wife is a promise and he decided that it would be better to just boil internally than start trouble at home. It seemed like an hour had gone by when the phone finally started to ring, but alas it was only ten minutes after his wife told him they would call back. “Hello,” a firm but hesitant truck driver said into the phone, “is this my central dispatch or the OEC, whatever that is?” The voice on the other end of the line was the Operations Manager for the company and Frank couldn’t help but laugh a little bit before responding, “Mike, I hope this is a good time to talk. Before you get all upset and demand answers, let me try to explain then you can fire away. As you could guess, this is Frank Liekiwicz from the Atlanta central dispatch office. We have had it a little rough down here with the huge riot and fires in the College Park area of town and the deployment of the Homeland and National Guards around most of the city so our situation is far different than yours and that is why the owner of the company volunteered to help the nation out in its time of need. The OEC or Office of Economic Continuity has been marshaling resources to start moving the tons of emergency food packages that have been stored throughout the country since 2003. The problem is that the entire just in time transport system is down and the railroads have been extremely unreliable due to sabotage and attacks by renegade gangs in parts of the nation. You will be paid your normal salary which will be loaded up on to your D-Card each week so Sally can go shopping and pay the bills. The owner is having me call every truck that is contracted to work for him and remind them that you need to do this for your country and to help feed the children in some of the large cities who are getting into desperate need now. We will try to get you home every two weeks and your expenses will be covered using a company D-Card for the purchase of all food and fuel as per the new government per Diem regulations. Does this make sense to you?”

Mike paused then asked, “Yes it makes perfect sense, but can I carry a sidearm. I was hijacked you know, by a fake Blackwater type group.” Frank answered back, “You’ll have to ask the OEC personnel in the morning. They will be there with a company D-Card, all roads pass and transponder, plus dispatch instruction sheets and OEC Qualcomm tracking device to plug into your communications unit and trailer.” That did not set well with Mike and his anger started to seep through in his voice, “Why the hell does the government need to track me? You know the wireless automated hours of service garbage already has me ready to quit this business.” Frank paused, then took a deep breath that Mike heard quite clearly before he started to speak slowly and carefully, “Mike, the world is upside down now. The company did not have a choice because we had a Federal license and permit to operate and they were going to place us under emergency regs anyways thus we were going to help one way or another. The only positive is that we get free fuel as a result of this fiasco to operate and can pay some of our drivers. We’re just going to truck for God and country now and pray that private industry is allowed to start operating again soon.”  Mike, still flustered after the terms presented to him snapped back, “I’ll listen to what they have to say. But if I get into some bad areas and there’s no answer on my Qualcomm or the telephone, this truck will return to my garage so fast your head will spin. I am very upset about leaving my wife alone while we have guard units all around us and the threats like your Park riots or whatever it was possibly spreading out here. If these government clowns can’t offer me guarantees of safety for my wife, we’re going to have issues.” Frank apparently had heard this all before and simply replied, “Trust me Mike, I’m at the mercy of the same people that you are. Please just hear them out. Good night sir.” With that he hung up and Mike stared at the phone showing full antenna readings but showing “NO SERVICE” in the display. He leaned back in the chair, finished up the cup of coffee and looked over at Mrs. Monckton and his wife to tell them, “Ladies, it would appear we will have guests around five in the morning. I’m heading off to bed. Please don’t shoot them without giving me a chance to hear them out first.”

February 25, 2010 6:19 P.M. Eastern Time

Tom was picking at his dinner as Sandy and her mother chattered away. He could not stand the lack of information and with the weather getting cold again, he knew that the supplies they had on hand would last a few weeks but after that, without work, without access to his safety deposit box where he stuffed it with his silver coins and his wife’s expensive jewelry, the money would not last long even with the government D-Card nonsense they endured all afternoon. “Mom, honey, don’t mind me please,” he said softly, “I’m going to take my dinner into the living room and try to stomach watching the American News Update from the government as I just have to know what we are supposed to do now. I hate being in the dark.” The two ladies paused their conversation, nodded, and immediately went back to the hen pecking as Tom called it, while he set up the television tray in the living room. The electricity was on for now and he hoped to get at least two hours of television time in tonight just to see what was happening in the rest of the world outside of the United States and how bad the fire was out by the airport.

“ANU News Summary, ” the robotic female voice bellowed from the television, “today President Obama signed two new Executive Orders making it illegal to prosecute any government aid workers operating as a part of the Getting America Back to Work Program which kicked off this morning. The other order was to raise the pay rations for all military and Homeland Guard personnel serving in the Restoring America security and protection programs plus increasing food rations for their families while they serve throughout the country helping local authorities maintain order and protecting the infrastructure. In Rogers Arkansas a group of terrorists attacked the Tyson Food distribution center killing twelve guards and stealing three truckloads of processed chicken. The equipment was recovered six hours later but only one terrorist was captured who was believed to be involved in the Little Rock incident several nights before. Lastly the large fire in Atlanta, Georgia has been extinguished which was the result of a seven forty-seven cargo plane missing the runway in bad weather, crashing into several buildings of of Main Street in the College Park section of town. Only the pilots were killed in the unfortunate incident according to Major General Alvern of the Homeland Guard North Georgia security detail.”

After that news summary Tom realized he had been chewing the same piece of meatloaf the entire time and had forgotten to swallow. He leaned over to yell out at his wife and mother-in-law but it was not necessary. Both of them were standing in the arch from the dining room, their eyes glued to the television as Tom’s were, stunned at what they were hearing. “I was going to let you know but I sort of figured you might want to hear that,” Tom continued, “this is really getting spooky. Since when and what is the Homeland Guard? Mom, have you caught anything on that radio of yours?”  Lillian looked over at him and said in a very firm voice, “Not yet, but I can guarantee you that tonight when I take the guard duty at two in the morning, my ears will be glued to it. You had best not fall asleep tonight son.” Tom shook his head and in the most serious look he could muster promised her, “Ma’am, there is no way I’ll fall asleep tonight, if ever again after hearing all that.”

February 25, 2010 6:30 P.M. Central Time, Pine Bluff, Arkansas

“Padre, come with me please,” the tall kid said with an Arkansas twang, “we’re going to process you and ship you to some quarters for the night where you will be more comfortable. The Guard does not feel it would safe to ship you back to DeWitt tonight.” Pastor Lewis was stunned. He stammered out to the young man, “Son, thank you. What happened to make that road so unsafe that we can not return to my home? Are we safe here?” The man in the black uniform looked him in the eyes and said it point blank, “Now that you’ve confessed, we can tell you the truth. The entire state south of interstate forty has been declared a F.M.D. or Federalized Military District. We have men shooting people violating curfew now due to the ambushes that have been happening here and in northeastern Louisiana. I do not want to risk you being hurt or hung as a sympathizer.”

“Thank you, I think,” the Pastor replied, “I guess I should just pray and say thanks that tonight should be peaceful as I have not slept in over twenty four hours.” The young soldier led him to a small room in a building near the edge of the camp. He pointed out the bed, the showers and bathroom areas then gave him a warning, “Do not attempt to open those windows or let any light out. You never know when a sniper is out there in the woods looking for easy prey.” This really shook up the God fearing man and he dropped immediately to his knees in prayer asking the Lord to give him strength. The young man started to walk out the door when he turned around after looking down the hallway and then shut and knelt beside the Pastor saying, “Padre, do you mind if I pray with you. I need some guidance to know if I’m doing things right by the Lord.” Lewis was stunned to hear this admission and of course told him to join him. “We both need the strength now my son, even if we do not know the path before us.”

February 26, 2010, 5:01 A.M. Mountain Time, Colorado Springs, CO

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The door rattled as if someone was hitting it with a sledge hammer and Wendy was terrified as she was used to sleeping in until eight because her job did not need her there until ten usually. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she yelled out. She was so tired, she got careless and instead of looking out the peephole she just opened the door, assuming it would be safe thanks to the curfew regulations put in place to protect the citizens. “Miss Wendy Listels I presume?” the man in the Homeland Guard uniform asked. “Uh, yes, that’s me, uh, sir. What time is it? Is there an emergency? Is my mother okay?” Wendy was getting frantic and asked again plus inquired, “and why are you here so early?” The man behind the Homeland Guard agent shined a flashlight in her face and replied, “Ma’am, my name is Sergeant Anthony Tennebaum with the Colorado Springs Police Department Adjunct Team working to prevent theft and fraud. You filed a report with the OEC last night and we are here to get your side and clear this matter now.”

“Oh, please, come in,” her face lit up as she invited them into the house, “I hope to help you fine people stop this fraud. I don’t know what the rules are but that lady on the phone last night said that liquor store owner was just plain wrong for what he did.” As the two men entered into the house, shining flashlights into all corners while keeping their hands on their sidearms, an African-American woman in her early fifties walked in behind them, holding the familiar scanner or tablet device she saw when she first got her D-Card. Wendy, being a bit of a klutz in social situations stuck her hand out to the woman and said “Hi Miss, my name is Wendy Listels, and you are?” The woman grabbed Wendy’s arm, held the laser scanner over her forearm then looked up at the Homeland Guard soldier and said to him, “Nope, she’s not one of them. This is just a civi.” She then whipped around to Wendy after putting her arm down and said to her, “I’m Angelika Franklin Jones of the OEC Enforcement division,” and as she spoke, she flipped out a badge from her purse, “and I’m here to resolve this matter with the liquor store fraud. May I have your D-Card please.”

Wendy got excited then while the two men continued to walk around the house with their flashlights but that did not matter to her. She ran to her bedroom, grabbed her purse and started to reach into when the Sergeant said in a strong voice, “Slowly Miss. We don’t know you and we don’t want to have an incident.” She noticed that he had unsnapped his holster and had his hand on the grip, ready to draw so she replied, “Yes sir, I will take my D-Card out slowly.”  She handed the card over to Ms. Jones and sat down on the couch beside her, drawing a puzzled and disgusted look from the bureaucrat. The OEC official scanned the card and in the screen a list of all transactions appeared for her to review. “Miss Listels, it says here you attempted to purchase six bottles of wine and liquor while at the store, is that correct?” Wendy looked totally confused but replied honestly, “Yes I did but….” and before she could finish a receipt of some sort printed out from the machine. “Miss Listels, with that verification, please put your thumb on the scanner’s reader,” Angelika said. Wendy did so obediently and then the ticket was torn off and handed to her. “FIVE DOLLAR FINE FOR ATTEMPTED HOARDING? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME?!?!”, Wendy screamed out. The Colorado Springs officer then switched his other hand to the Taser and said to her, “Young lady you had best calm down.”

Wendy took a deep breath, tears welling up in her eyes and asked the bureaucrat, “But what did I do wrong? I just went shopping, that’s all?” Angelika did not even hesitate in her response, “Miss Listels, if you had bothered to open up and read your instruction book, you would have seen on page 172, subsection 1801.191933, that it is illegal to create additional labor for vendors or retailers by attempting to purchase goods that are not authorized beyond the ration limits outlined by the manual and available online at the recovery website. This is your fault and we came here to just verify that you were the one that reported it and fine you for your crime which has been automatically deducted from your new Citizen’s D-Card Federal Reserve Bank Account. There’s no point in arguing because the new Administrative Judiciary will not start operations for hearings and appeals until March first.”

Wendy was very upset now and looked at this group and said, “But what about my justice. What about the illegal activities of the store owner?” Angelika looked over at the Colorado Springs Policeman and he answered her, “Miss, he was adjudicated and found guilty of not maintaining current inventory reports as required for all open vendors. He was fined as per the emergency act. There was no evidence of the owner accepting contraband coinage as you described and thus we could not proceed any further beyond the fines imposed by us against him.”

“I could just cry, wasn’t there a camera or anything?”, Wendy asked innocently. “Miss Listels, just drop the issue. He’s in enough trouble and you are also because the next time you attempt to avoid the ration requirements the fine accelerates to ten dollars per incident. The camera at his business was replaced with a new OEC Enforcement web cam so there will be no more repeats of mystery customers at his business, that is a certainty.” Wendy sighed, leaned back on her sofa and nodded like a whipped puppy dog. The agents finished their work, and left as she read the deduction from her account on the receipt for the violation. As the threesome piled into the squad car, she watched them back out and they went about two blocks down the street before turning their lights on and pulling into someone’s driveway.

Angelika and Sergeant Tennebaum grinned as they pulled into the driveway of their next subjects of investigation. The rattling of the three cases of rum in the trunk was noisy but the “arrangement” they made with the liquor store owners before the rationing began insured that they would never have to worry about their little government off the books side business with the black marketeers in Denver. At one silver dollar per bottle they knew they  would all be set to weather the economic storm as long as it was impacting the country. It was also very good for business as there were plenty of dupes like Wendy around, and they would always make their enforcement quota plus find new leads for suppliers to keep their side distribution enterprise flush with inventory for years to come.

by John Galt

January 28, 2010

WOOHOO!

We are proud to announce thousands of jobs have been saved and/or created with this news!

Okay Ben, the Senate has done their job, now get those printing presses running. Order more paper! Order more ink!

Print baby print!

I’m putting of the next installment for 24 hours so I can proofread it a tad bit more.

The focus tonight has been on Obamajamalamadingdong’s speech at TTOL:

THE OFFICIAL TTOL Obamajamalamadingdong State of Disunity Speech Thread

by John Galt

January 27, 2010

First and foremost so the residents and mini Politburo running the town formerly known as North Port Charlotte, now known as North Port, Florida, I have never lived there and believe me, never will. It used to be a friendly quaint little retirement community but once the building boom started and they expanded the city limits, the town elected a giant home owners association also known now as the city commission. The police are basically a bunch of Barney Fifes who spend their time on I-75 and US-41 looking for any excuse beyond just speeding to pull motorists over and write traffic tickets (the only reason they expanded the city limits beyond I-75 I might add). They spend the majority of their time writing traffic citations or assisting code enforcement because you forgot to have a decorative hose reel for the side of your house or some other petty violation. If real crime occurs their they run like little girls to the Sarasota County Sheriff’s office crying for help.

The city commission is compromised of a bunch of HOA types who thought that they could spend taxpayer money like a bunch of insane drunken fools (I would never offend the Navy or sailors) forever and that there would never be a down turn. Well, well, well, fast forward to the current day and age. The town has seen an exodus. Property values are down more than 50%. You have block after block of streets with grass and weeds growing up through the asphalt where properties were never developed or where only one or two homes were built. If those one or two homes are still occupied its because the residents were either flippers caught in the Realtor driven delusion that values never go down or they are too stupid to understand basic economics and lack the capacity to realize that the $200,000 they paid for their homes will never return to that valuation until at least 2020 or beyond. A better name for the town would be Upsidedownville because everything there is in debt for more than the business or residential property is worth.

You see the town was built before the I-75 infrastructure was widened to deal with a growing population. The only jobs available when the boom started were in Fort Myers and Sarasota, a full hour away for both on bad traffic day. Now that those areas are in horrid economic shape, there are no jobs other than the occasional burger flipping or bag boy jobs should some chain foolishly enter into the market. Yet the city of North Ports little group of Himmlers think that people earning $16,000 per year have the ability to maintain their homes, pay the high taxes, pay their mortgages and oh, yes, pay the fines their petty little town imposes because of some of the stupidest appearance regulations north of Naples and the Flower Nazis down there. I wish the residents the best of luck selling the 6000 plus empty homes, 10,000 plus empty lots and oh yes, the apparently hundreds of homes the city is getting ready to seize via administrative legal action. I’m sure that will work out real well for these idiots.

To get a taste of what happens when a HOA takes over a town and stupid people elect a bunch of emotionally disturbed petty souls, read the following stories from the Sarasota Herald Tribune  about this town to my south.  FOR THE RECORD, I have never received a traffic ticket or citation of any type, but I have been privy to the circus down in that area watching business after business go bankrupt and knowing friends who have abandoned their homes and fled the idiocy. Maybe this will help you understand why a real estate depression in Florida will prevent a recovery as long as the voters continue to put morons like these into office……

Amid outcry, North Port eases up on fines

North Port code net snags another

by John Galt

January 25, 2010

February 25, 2010 1:05 P.M. Eastern Time

“This is obscene! Honey, come here and read this!”, I yelled out loud to her. I continued my rant, “This is the biggest pile I have ever seen, come here and read just the first two paragraphs of page 246! These people are trying to trap everyone but the super rich inside the borders!” My wife looked at me, exhausted and instead of just taking my word for it, grabbed the documents out of my hands. She glanced and the page and said, “Honey, quit getting upset over this crap. These people are trying to take control of our lives and just make sure when you are through reading this that we do not miss anything that can get us in trouble with the new brown shirts. It’s obvious what they are trying to do and right now, they will succeed barring a miracle.”

I thought about what she said. She was right. For the time being, the government had the guns, the goons and the bureaucrats backing them. What made matters worse for everyone concerned was the lack of supplies that most people had in their homes and the lack of cash which apparently was going to be taxed at an absurd daily rate. When I reflect back on the news before it became government television twenty-four hours a day, seven days per week, I realized that this plan was something dug out of a filing drawer and implemented when it fit someone’s schedule, be it for domestic or international political purposes. I looked back at my wife in the bedroom, booting the personal computer back up now that the power was on again and told her, “Well, tomorrow is shopping day, let’s get a long list together so we can insure we can stay in one place for a long period of time. It would appear that our ability to drive around and even do the simple things in life are about to get somewhat complicated.”

February 25, 2010 4:09 P.M. Mountain Time

Wendy was enjoying the  music blaring from her MP3 player through her car stereo as she headed home when she noticed that the liquor store several blocks from her home was open and apparently doing a brisk business. She pulled her car into the parking lot and after driving around it twice,  an elderly man pulled out which opened a parking space for her. She went inside and grabbed a basked when she noticed that the check out line had a private security guard with a shotgun near the entrance and another one near the rear. She paused for a moment and in that innocent voice of hers, she asked the guard, “Is it safe in here?” The guard, obviously tired after man hours at work looked down at her and started to snicker when he replied, “Oh sure, as far as liquor stores during Armageddon goes, it’s safer than the Academy up the road from here!”

She was not amused and uttered a brief, “harrumph” as she rolled her eyes and walked away from the guard.  Wendy made a bee line over to the wine department which was still relatively well stocked when an older man and his wife bumped into her from behind with their shopping cart full of various bottles of rum, tequila, bourbon and vodka. “Excuse us miss,” the two spoke softly and politely, “we didn’t hurt you did we?” Wendy shook her head no, then her curious nature got to her and asked the couple, “So where’s the party at? I mean, it’s nothing personal, I just can’t see what you would need with all of that liquor?” The old man grinned and crept creepily close to her head and whispered into her ear, “Miss, we’re going to survive this thing. And we know how to horse trade like the old days. We’re heading back out to the ranch as soon as we are done here.” Wendy just replied softly, “Okay, but I guess that’s a good reason to whisper.” She was more puzzled than ever but events at the cash register would leave her angry and frustrated.

After thinking about what the old man said, she grabbed six of her favorite bottles of wine and put them in her basket and then grabbed her favorite cherry flavored vodka and headed to the check out line where she sighed when she noticed that only one register was open and the elderly couple with at least fifty bottles of various sizes and flavors to be checked out. The old man started stacking all of the bottles on the counter and the cashier nodded in an odd manner and started to put the bottles in empty liquor bottle boxes filling box after box up until four full boxes were stacked up in the cart of the couple. The old man then reached into his coat pocket, handed what looked like a fist sized roll over to the man who broke it open and counted the large silver looking coins. “See ya next week, roads and weather permitting Tom,” the old man said as he walked away. Wendy quickly deduced that Tom was the owner and that there was some sort of arrangement for the purchase and with all the weird things going on, it was none of her business to ask questions.

She carefully placed all six wine bottles by the scanner and the bottle of vodka. The owner looked at Wendy and said quite firmly, “Driver’s license and D-Card please.” Wendy opened her purse and handed it over to the man and he proceeded to scan both of the cards. The owner then handed the cards back to her and spoke again, “Miss, your rations do not permit more than two bottles of alcohol to be purchased per week. You can buy any combination of two items, but that would be it per the OEC directive on rationing.” Wendy shoved her license and Dollar Card back into her purse and then glared at the owner and asked the question he knew was coming, “So how come the old guy in front of me was allowed to buy as much as he wanted? Where is his restriction? Why don’t I get treated equally and fair like he does? Who do you think you are making rules for some people and not other?”

Tom, the owner of this private liquor store had heard enough. His six foot five frame contained with fifty-five years of everything this town could throw at him leaned over, with the grizzled beard less than two inches from Wendy’s face with a reddened face and narrowed eyes he said to her, “Because he pays me with real money Miss. If you have some, you can buy whatever you want. But if you insist on using this dog-crap card to do your part for the country, then you will take what you are allowed to buy and be happy with it. If you have a problem with it, you could call the OEC but just remember now,  I have your home address and those ain’t government guards standing by the doors sweetheart. Now for your booze, choose which ones you want and do you want a paper or plastic bag?” Wendy was taken totally aback by his comments, not to mention the little bit of chewing tobacco dribble coming out of one side of his mouth. She was so embarrassed by this event and the guy behind her banged her slightly with his shopping cart and said to her, “Come on whiny, don’t start crying! Pick your booze and let’s go. Some of us want to get home before curfew lady!” Wendy pointed at the vodka and a bottle of wine, then pressed her thumb on the fingerprint scanner. Tom printed out a receipt, threw it in the bag and told Wendy “I would prefer you shop elsewhere in the future Miss.”

Wendy was trying to hold back the tears but her eyes had welled up and she nodded, put her sunglasses on and grabbed the bag with the two bottles. She hurried out to her car with one of the guards walking behind her, watching her every move and as she started the car she swore he was writing down her tag number. The roar of a jet plane overhead from the Air Force Academy startled her, but she recovered and slowly backed out of the parking space, put the car in drive and proceeded to pull out on to the highway to head home. “This is just not fair,” she thought to herself as tears streamed down her face, “and I have to tell someone to do something about this.”

When she calmed down after enjoying a glass of her wine, she grabbed the  packet from the OEC that she ignored which contained her D-Card that proudly proclaimed at the top of each page, “Office of Economic Security, Mid-Mountain Region, Denver, CO”  and she immediately looked for an index. After fumbling through dozens of pages she found the index but it was of little help as it was too confusing for her but after flipping through the front of the book,  she found the quick reference page within the table of contents.  She found the telephone number for the OEC Hot line at 1-800-OEC-HELP and started dialing on her home phone that had no dial tone. Frustrated she slammed the phone down and grabbed her cell phone which displayed a solid five bars. The automated answering system prompted her to press four for reports of retail or vendor fraud and thus began a deathly long hold time where the prompt advised her that her hold time would be “approximately  one hundred and seventeen minutes.”

After almost two hours on hold, a voice finally popped up on the line and started to speak, “Ms. Wendy Listels, D-Card Number nine, one, one, seven, three, six, six, six, four, eight, seven two, two, two, five, one?” Wendy paused for a moment, reached for her purse and grabbed the card out of her wallet to reply, “Yes, that is my number.” The voice, a gruff sounding female voice in what sounded like a boiler room full of operators in the background started again, “Are you still located at 9967 Mountain Valley Lane, Colorado Springs, CO, eight, zero, nine, zero, eight? Your physical description is listed as five foot four, one hundred thirty-six pounds, auburn hair, brown eyes and wears corrective lens for driving. Is this information correct?”

Wendy was somewhat stunned as she was reporting someone else and they wanted to know or validate information about her. Instead of arguing after this upsetting afternoon she answered, “Yes that information is still current and correct, may I ask you why you need that?” The operator then identified herself, “I am operator one two nine seven nine. You may retain this information for future use. I am setting up a report for our field office in Colorado Springs so an investigator can visit you and the place of business involved. The purchase report for today will be forwarded to the investigator from the Office of Economic Continuity Enforcement Division, the OECED, which will interview you and the vendor involved separately. Was this vendor involved a garage sale, flea market, road side stand, or one of the three charges placed on your D-Card this afternoon?” Wendy gasped at the list just read and erroneously said out loud inquisitively, “Garage sale? Uh, why is that on the list?” The operator replied, “So you tried to use your card at a garage sale that fails to collect taxes or were you using Federal Reserve Notes, uh, physical cash, for a purchase?” Wendy quickly gathered herself and answered back quickly, “Oh, no you misunderstood. I was just shocked that you said anything about a garage sale. I haven’t been to one of those in ages, it has been too cold. The incident happened at Tom Albert’s Liquors about three hours ago. I saw a man make an illegal purchase without using his card or cash.” The operator sighed, “Miss Listels, how can you be sure this was illegal? Are you sure it was not a bar owner or other buyer with legal papers allowing him to make such a purchase. And just how in the world did the buyer purchase anything without using his card or cash, that is strictly forbidden now.” The operator sounded like she had suspended belief in the call and was almost mocking Wendy’s statement. She gathered herself and spoke firmly to the operator, “Miss One Two Nine Seven Nine, I saw the person pay the owner of the store with some sort of silver coins. I could not see the coins but I watched him count them out on the counter.  He yelled at me and told me it was real money, whatever that is. I thought my dollar bills were real money?” At that point in the discussion the operator replied somewhat firmly and in a more business like manner, “One moment Miss Listels, I am going to have my supervisor join us on this call.”

The supervisor clicked into the call with the operator and she began to speak, “Miss Listels, my supervisor is on the line to validate the information and confirm that your report has some basis in fact. The OECED does not take matters like this lightly and will send an investigator out immediately to your home and the business in question as soon as curfew is terminated in the morning. If you would, please repeat what you said for the record one more time so we can begin processing the report for our investigator.” Wendy sighed, recounted everything that happened at the liquor store and was thanked by the OEC officers who then hung up. “There, I showed that jerk at the liquor store,” she thought to herself as she eagerly awaited to meet the agents in the morning so she could get her pound of flesh. The wine started to flow freely as she felt vindicated, watching the start or the nine o’clock news called America Tonight via the cable channel provided by Radio and Television America as she drifted into the night eating chips and dip and consuming her bottle of Merlot.

February 25, 2010 3:30 P.M. Central Time, Pine Bluff, Arkansas

“Prisoners, please stand up,” the voice bellowed like a military man, “and face forward, you may stop looking at the floor now. I know you are not in the military nor familiar with those procedures but if you listen to me, you will survive the processing and hopefully return to a normal life in your society. My name is Staff Sergeant Ellis Lee Franklin of the National Home Guard. Those of you who are not familiar with our units are to learn what I say this one time and one time only. We have full military regulatory authority in the streets and homes of the United States to protect the citizens and our economy from enemies foreign and domestic. We do not report to the United States military, the National Guard or Governor of this state. The Home Guard has full law enforcement authority which supersedes all local, county and state laws and regulations while a State of Emergency is in effect for your region. Due to the nature of the recent attack on the National Guard Armory in Little Rock, this state of Emergency has been extended to an unlimited period until all responsible parties are arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent. You gentlemen are here because you are suspects in this attack from Tuesday night or suspected of providing logistical support to the terrorists we seek. You have not been charged with any crimes at this time. You will be interrogated and we can do this the hard way or the easy way. Each of you will be fed, given a medical exam and fresh clothes upon departure to either the detention facility in Helena or back to your local communities. No questions will be taken and you will speak only when spoken to. Sit down, shut up and wait until your name is called. That is all.”

The men all sat down and immediately stared at the floor, some even breaking down in tears. Pastor Lewis knew that he could not speak, preach nor attempt to comfort the men he was with at this time. With the frustration and horror of what has happened to him in just one day, he knew what to do and began to pray in silence hoping the Good Lord would comfort him in his time of stress. “Lewis, front and center!” the voice from the tent flap yelled out. He stood up, nodded, and moved towards the door. The guard put a set of leg and wrist shackles on him and said, “Sorry Padre, this is procedure. Let me know if they are too tight.” The guard then led him into another tent where a dog sniffed him down then the guard walked him into one of the airport type scanners where the other guard waved him through.

After passing through the tent where he was screened another guard wearing a solid black uniform with a weird patch that only said “HG” prodded Lewis into a building then into a room that was plain with only two wooden chairs and a desk all painted white and some very bright fluorescent lighting illuminating the room. The guard then said to the Pastor “Wait here, do not sit until instructed, your researcher will be in shortly.” At this point in time, he couldn’t hold it any longer and spoke, “Uh, sir, guard, I really have to go to the bathroom, please, I’ve been holding it for hours. I really need to go bad now sir.” The guard stopped in his tracks, paused and grabbed the Pastor by the neck of his shirt and pulled him down the hallway to a bathroom where he unlocked the leg shackles and looked him in the eyes with a sneer and said “Two minutes.” The Pastor knew what this meant and hurried with his business, returned to the door, and was promptly re-shackled and escorted back to his white room.

“Mr. Lewis, I presume,” the voice said as the door opened and a tall gentleman dressed in a solid black uniform with that weird patch on his shoulders, this time with Captain’s bars. “Yes sir, that would be me sir, or you can call me Father, Reverend, whatever you would like sir,” the somewhat terrified church leader said. “Sit down Mr. Lewis, and please listen to everything I have to say carefully. Your future freedom and perhaps survival could depend on this interview. On February twenty-third at thirty-four minutes after one in the morning, twenty men attacked and illegally entered into the National Guard Armory in North Little Rock, killing four guards and stealing two trailer loads of weapons and ammunition. This entire state will remain a Federalized Military district until the parties responsible are apprehended or killed. The reason you are here is that you have admitted to providing shelter to residents who were in violation of the declared curfews and then yourself committed the same act. Are you aware that you knowingly violated the provisions of the Emergency Safety and Security Act which was activated forty-eight hours ago?”

Pastor Lewis was stunned and started to respond, “Uh, sir, I don” know anyone….” The Captain was not impressed and cut him off stating, “Yes or no answers only.”

Stammering, scared, and somewhat intimidated, the good father simply replied, “yes” and waited for the next question.

Captain: “Did you openly declare you would take refugees without prior authorization from the Department of Homeland Security?”

Pastor: “Yes.”

Captain: “Did you check the identification of the persons in your church early this morning?”

Pastor: “No.”

Captain: “Do you own a firearm?”

Pastor: “No.”

Captain: “This concludes our interview. Your statements to the other officers have been noted. Apparently your ignorance of the law does not constitute a threat to the Republic. I have had your face scanned into our database and your statistics do not match those of any of the suspects in the Little Rock attack. Your illegal refugees have also been cleared and the migrants will be processed and shipped to a camp in Oklahoma for work assignments. Mr. Lewellyn’s daughter was found alive in the woods this morning and his family has been cleared. You however sir will be required to donate twelve hours per week to the Homeland Guard Camp Delta as punishment for disobedience of the curfew and refugee regulations that were posted on February 23, 2010 at eighteen hundred hours Central Time, per the President of the United States. To be honest, we need a spiritual adviser who can help counsel some of the souls we are arresting for violations of the numerous new regulations. When I leave this room another officer will escort you to a clean room, give you some fresh clothes and escort you to final processing. You have been hereby adjudicated and found guilty of misdemeanor violations of Regulations 0124.9973.102 and 0124.9973.296. You will be provided with a choice of cooperating with the Division of Corrections within the Homeland Guard or accept assignment to make restitution for your actions. Do you understand the scope and details of the sentence passed down upon you?”

Pastor: “No sir. I do not. This is America, don’t I get a trial? What happened to my Miranda rights? I don’t understand what I did wrong? My church is a refuge and the rights conveyed upon my church by God are not to be violated by the laws of man. What happened to our nation where these laws no longer hold true?”

Captain: “Off the record so please stop recording now.” After a pause he leaned over the table and spoke firmly but quietly, “Look Padre, I don’t like this either, but we have a new series of regulations we must follow. You now live in a state under martial law and the Constitution has been suspended.  We have terrorist acts breaking out all over this region including unlawful assembly for anti-government purposes, threatening of and attempted assassination of government officials,  and attacks on law enforcement and retail facilities all over this region. Just take the deal, don’t make trouble and in sixty days, you will be released from your duties. I convinced the Colonel to give you a pass and insure you would perform non-denominational spiritual duties to help calm and re-educate the prisoners we are holding now.” He leaned back in his chair, straightened up his back,  and said, “Recording on. Father, one more time. I am not in a position to enter into Constitutional nor other debates as the rule of law was established by the actions of the President in response to the terrorist acts.  Do you accept this sentence and agree to cooperate with the Homeland Guard as instructed?”

Pastor: “Yes sir. I’m sorry but I am tired and upset.”

Captain: “We understand. You will be guided through processing and your sentencing documentation will be available for you to sign at the exit processing interview. Please obtain a copy of the Emergency Declaration at the exit interview so you can remain within the law. Hopefully this will be lifted in the next one hundred days. Good day sir.”

I’m back gang thanks to ComCast having a major problem in my area that kept me off and on (more off) the net since Sunday afternoon. This means you’ll get two back to back chapters of TDDD tonight and tomorrow and I’ll try to get another market update out also as there’s been a major sea change in the economic outlook thanks to the three ring circus in D.C.

See you tonight when I return from O-Town.