Haley's Nose, America 2009, Part 3 "Now I won't be offended if you don't want to answer, but where do you get them?"
Haley grinned at Rick and dipped her roti in the small bowl of thick, creamy raita.
"You won't believe it, but I scavenge them. You know, from houses, when people are Priced Out. They leave most of their stuff, it's not like they can take it with them, whether they go Informal or GoodJob. I wait a few days, let whoever comes first get the other stuff, then I move in and get the books. I guess you could say I'm a bottom feeder."
"So, these books people pay you hundreds of dollars for, those same people could just get them free if they went to an abandoned house?"
"YES!" Haley dissolved in giggles. "Is that a hoot, or what? And I only get those big sales once in a while, as you know all too well," she gestured at her complimentary dinner.
"And sometimes you practically give them away."
"Less often than sometimes. Like practically never. I can't afford to. Haley helped herself to more roti. "I did today, though. It was, I dunno, this little kid, there was this book about different religions, written for children, and he was all, ohh, the blue people! I mean, what can you do?"
"You can eat this biryani," said Rick. "Otherwise it'll go to waste."
Secretary Falwell did not like taking questions from the press. In fact, he abhorred it. So much so that lately he had begun to question the need for a press at all. He prayed about it often, asking God to lay a Word of Wisdom on his heart, that he could in turn lay on the desk of Vice President Emeritus Rove, at whose behest he was here today. Even if an argument could be made that the American public needed any more information than was disseminated by the White House press secretary, Falwell could find no justification at all for continuing to permit the existence of foreign media. As he had told Boykin the other day, allowing these hotbeds of anti-Americanism to have television stations and newspapers was technically speaking, giving aid and comfort to the enemy.
"I know we've had our differences, Jerry," Boykin had said. "But I hope you know, I'm with you on this one. It's a slow process, but we'll get there."
The process was too slow for Falwell. It had taken him almost two years to make the No-Read lists a reality. It could have gone a lot faster had Falwell not stood firm on the Books of Faith Whitelist.
The battle had been worth it, though. Now no book pertaining to religion could be printed, published or sold in the US or its Occupied Territories without first passing muster with Falwell himself.
"Congress shall pass no law," he had begun his remarks at THAT press conference, "and Congress has passed no law. This does not however, give the government of the people license to shirk its duty to protect our Homeland from the Devil.
And as long as we allow our printing presses, our publishing houses, and our bookstores, to corrupt themselves and our blessed children with works of blasphemy, idolatry, and terror, we have shirked our duty.
Today, we ask God for forgiveness, and we ask you, the American people, for forgiveness, and pledge to you a New Leaf, a New Day in the Lord, as we cast this sin from us."
Falwell's Whitelist was not a long one, and it did not include the Koran, the Bhagvad-Gita, the Maharabata, the Granth, Bibles except the King James Version (that had caused the Vatican to break off diplomatic relations with the US, which Falwell considered they should never have had in the first place). He prayed hard over the touchy subject of Torah scrolls, until some Words of Wisdom had been laid upon his heart, and some Freewill Gifts had been laid upon his hand, the latter from some shadowy figures in the NSA that Falwell had not realized were interested in religion at all.
So the scrolls stayed, as did the synagogues, but stationed outside the door of each was a team from the Department of Values, who maintained a constant prayer vigil that God's wayward Children of Israel would accept Jesus Christ as their personal savior, interrupted only for the purpose of giving witness to those entering or leaving the temple, and beseeching them to embrace their only path to salvation, be washed in the Blood of the Lamb.
Attendance had dropped rapidly and dramatically. Most Jews now worshipped discreetly in private homes, as did all Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, Catholics, and everybody else. This was, of course, a privilege reserved for Preferreds. GoodJobbers and GuestJobbers were considered to be doing the Lord's work of keeping the American economy strong every day without the need for formal worship, and Falwell doubted that Informals had any religion at all, and their precarious existence was punishment for it.
"So," the lawyer held out both hands, palm up. "Good news and bad news."
"Good news first," said Roger, rubbing his own palms on his twill workpants, trying to dry them.
"Well, I was able to pull a few strings to get some info on MariLuz. Turns out her grandmother is an elder of sorts in a clan of the Tarasco tribe in Michoacan. That means, if we can get her out of Approval, and into Mexico, she has a home, and tribal custom says that as her family, so do you and Chuchito. Legally, it should be doable, as Compassionate Deportation, from Patriot IV, or from Native Repatriation, from Reservation Protection II. That's the one that is typically used to root out Native Americans and transfer them to Reservations, but since Mexico is now only semi-autonomous, meaning it is technically under US jurisdiction, we can also argue that MariLuz has the option to waive Approval status and request Repatriation."
"Great," Roger felt a shiver of hope, but kept his emotions in check. "What's the bad news?"
"The bad news," replied Ben, "is that you'd be living in a mountain village so remote that almost no one there has ever seen a car. Only a handful of people speak Spanish, and those that do speak it as a distant second language. You'll have to learn Tarasco. There is no electricity, no running water, no telephone, and you'll live out your lives there living in a house made of sticks and leaves, maybe a little mud in winter, and you'll survive on whatever you can scratch out by walking behind an ox and an iron plow."
"with MariLuz and Chuchito?'
"Yes, all three of you."
Roger grinned. "I thought you said there was BAD news. How soon can we go?" posted at
Actions like Sep 11 do not happen in a vaccuum.
Long before those hijackers ever stepped foot on the planes the damage
had been done. They were brainwashed with the same type of garbage
propaganda that is spewed from Fatwa's weblog.
Middle Eastern countries are so much more barbaric today and preAmercia than America can ever hope to be...America has only been around 230 years...who did you blame for everything before that Ductape? I am calling a Fatwa on your bullshit!
IMO - terrorist plain and simple. He is an Al queda operative who
should be put in a cage on gitmo Skinner
My favorite..."In Defense of Holocaust Deniers"
I always thought that "The Enemy Within" was just a metaphore for liberalism, that is, until I encountered Ductape Fatwa. He should be in an orange jumpsuit for sure.
peopleforchange.netductape is either a commie, al queda, or a deep cover mole
Tells you something about this asshole doesn't it. He's really serious.
I believe that DF is nothing but a Republican plant...
Ductape is a commie, a terrorist, and he drinks blood too. He drinks
Capitalist blood. He eats unborn babies too
Give me your address and I'll send you $20 and a thank-you note for taking your hatred elsewhere.
A terrorist with a sense of humor!
He ain't nuthin' but shit
inadequate, halfway house bullshit
You are a dumbass. Fuck you and your condescension about us "benighted sheeple." hamletta
Untruthful, damaging bullshit
no better than the neocons and no different than Timothy McVeigh
dailykos.coma turd in the punchbowl...if DF were Joe Hill he probably would have killed himself rather than get put to death.
A compost pile of fecundity
dailykos.comdespicable and literally mentally ill