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Thursday, March 30, 2006 | The current mood of DuctapeFatwa
You are on Indian Land

Many mainstream Americans, all along the political spectrum, have been surprised in recent weeks to see large numbers, extremely large numbers, of migrants demonstrating in cities around the US.

While the media did not mention it, in all those millions, and yes, the sum of all the demonstrators went into the millions, there was not one, zero, "incidents," or acts of violence. I'm not sure that can be said of any demonstration of comparable size in the US or anywhere else. Ever.

What were they demonstrating about? Ostensibly, a hate law proposed to the US legislature by a popular politican, who sadly will be even more popular with the American political class because of his proposal. It was about the indigenous people of the Americas exercising their inalienable right to move from one part of their continent to another.

But it went deeper than that.

In an offline incident that was recounted to me, a man from India asked a man from Honduras, why are you at work today? I thought all the Mexicans were on strike. Why are they doing that, anyway?

The Honduran, not bothering to correct the common but annoying assumption about his national origin answered, Everyone who can is on strike today. They are doing it to get human rights for you and your family.

And indeed, it is something of a disappointment not to see migrants from other regions in the marches, however, taking the forest view, that is a trifle. There were not a lot of migrants from anywhere marching with Dr. King, back in the day when so many Afro-Americans marched, to get human rights for the father of the man from India, the grandfather of the man from Honduras.

The demonstrations we see now however, these millions of sons and daughters of the indigenous people of the Americas, go even deeper than that. Many pundits have labeled the events as a wakeup call. What they mean by that will differ according to their point of view.

But regardless of what their interpretation may be, they are right. It is a wakeup call.

It is a complimentary, peaceful wakeup call from those sons and daughters of the indigenous people of the Americas to the sons and daughters of the European invaders that they are on Indian Land.

You are on Indian Land, I am on Indian Land.

One of the unintended consequences of the concerted efforts at genocide, culturecide, and linguacide perpetuated by the invaders is that today, all those Indians whose ancestors survived, including all the millions who, like their Afro-American brothers, do not know their tribe, do not know their real names, are now one tribe, from the Arctic Circle to Tierra del Fuego, and everything between.

And it is all Indian Land.

When the first march occurred in Chicago, the first march of March, something both long-awaited and unexpected leapt in some hearts - a whisper of hope, a breath of spring.

Hope that that soft breeze might be a harbinger, that perhaps what had lain in wait, head buried for half a millennia under the earth of Indian Land, might emerge a jonquil.

Subsequent marches have watered that hope.

I ask people of goodwill, if indeed from that hard dry earth of Indian Land, there is emerging a jonquil, let us work together to water it, that it may flourish and grow, and bring at long last justice, human rights, prosperity and peace, in the Great Reclaiming, in this coming of the Eighth Generation, let the jonquil bud, and bloom, and the spirit of the eagle fly free, over this Indian Land.

posted at 11:22 PM

Sunday, March 26, 2006 | The current mood of DuctapeFatwa

How to Stop Illegal Immigration

Every day, more illegal aliens pour across the border. It's a war, but it's a war Americans can win. It's time to stop depending on the government and take things into the hands of real American citizens. The government can't do it without your help. Nothing worthwhile is easy, but illegal immigration can be stopped if every American will follow these simple steps:

When you eat lunch or dinner in a restaurant, whatever your bill is, do not pay the waitperson. Insist that the manager be called, and give him four times the amount of the bill, so that he will be able to hire Americans.

Do the same thing with everything you buy. Some stores, especially the large chains like Wal-Mart, may hesitate to take the extra money. Ask to see the manager, and if necessary, leave the money on top of the cash register. Then you've fulfilled your responsibility to make sure that store has the money to hire real Americans and only deal with other businesses that do the same.

These illegal aliens are coming to the US for one thing: to take American jobs.

It is up to Americans to make sure those jobs are already taken. Let that begin with you. Take a second job. If you work 9 to 5, you can obtain evening employment in a restaurant kitchen. Make sure they understand that you are willing to work for the same wage the illegal aliens are getting. That may be less than the minimum wage, but that's OK with you. Be willing to forego any benefits, and work overtime as needed. If you work evenings, take a morning job doing construction cleanup, or landscaping. These jobs can be obtained easily by going to convenience or home improvement store parking lots just before dawn. There will be many illegal aliens there, and your presence and willingness to work hard, even if you only receive twenty or thirty dollars for an eight hour shift of physical labor, will ensure that one Mexican will not get a job that day, a job that is your birthright as a real American.

Tell your current boss that you wish your salary decreased by 75% to enable him to hire real Americans to clean the offices and work in the cafeteria, and to send more money to Washington to hire more soldiers to keep out illegal aliens.

If you want to beat these illegals at their own game, you have to use their methods. Now that you have taken a job away from one of them, and done your part to help your own employer hire real Americans and pay your share of the cost of keeping them out, you will be ready to learn more of their secrets and use them to fight and win this war.

If you own a home, sell it, and send the proceeds to the government to pay for increased troops at the border, and to build a wall like Israel's Peace Fence.

You may wonder, how do these illegal aliens work such long hours for such low pay, no overtime, no benefits, and still manage to send money out of the country to bring in more illegal aliens.

These aliens are sneaky. But you can be just as sneaky. Do as they do and beat them at their own game.

Get together with ten or twelve relatives, neighbors or like-minded people who are also committed to winning the war against illegal immigration, and rent the cheapest one bedroom apartment you can find in your city or town. In most areas, the rent for the apartment will be under $1000. Even if you share with only nine roomates, that means your share of the rent is only $100 or less!

Don't worry about furniture, you'll need that space for everyone to have room to sleep. Used blankets can be gotten at a Goodwill or other thrift store for very little money. You're a soldier on a critical mission, and this is your barracks!

Now you are catching on to their strategy. You can cut expenses even more by not having the electricity connected if you choose an apartment with a gas stove. Or you can cook outdoors, like some wily illegals do, in order to send even MORE American money out of the country. That's not what you'll do, though. You will send your extra money straight to Washington, to help build that fence and secure America's borders.

You and your roomates are in for a shock when you find out just how little money a large sack of beans costs. And depending on which Mexican grocery store you go to, the "masa" for tortillas may cost even less than that! Of course, you can buy already made tortillas, but they will cost more, and the real pros at the illegal alien game know that. As an American you are naturally smart enough to know that every dollar you save can save your country, so you buy the masa and make the tortillas yourself. Don't worry if after a few weeks, even a few days, you feel even angrier about the problem of illegal immigration when you find out just how far a big pot of beans will go, even shared with nine other people, and the sack is still almost full! And the same goes for the masa. Yes, this is how those illegal aliens do it. Beans and tortillas, every day. That's one of their key strategies, and now it is one of yours, too.

It may be that your new lifestyle as a soldier in the war against illegal immigration makes it impractical for you to continue in your former job. Don't worry about that. Those aren't the jobs the illegals are after. You can be pretty sure that your replacement will be an honest-to-goodness English-speaking American. Now you have eight hours free that you can use to take another job away from another illegal alien!

In the spring and summer months, if you play your cards right, you just might be able to move into the agricultural sector, a hotbed of illegals, and get plenty of time in the fresh air helping with the important work of America's harvest, a job for Americans if there ever was one, and as you reach for another orange in the bright sunshine of beautiful Florida or crouch with your sack the in the onion fields of south Georgia, whether you get paid or not, what greater reward could a solider in this battle ask for than the knowledge that some Jose or Pedro was told, "sorry, we don't need any more pickers," because YOU, a real American, are doing the picking!

If every American will follow these simple steps, illegal immigration can be stopped. Not cut in half, not dressed up in some fancy amnesty program, but STOPPED!

Remember they come for the jobs. If those jobs are already taken by Americans, they won't come.

So don't waste time! Start right now! Get that second job at a restaurant, or maybe a warehouse, and talk to your boss. If he refuses to cut your salary by 75% as you ask, then you send the money to Washington yourself. There are 2000 miles of border to be fenced and manned while you recruit other solders for this vital war.

But this is a war Americans can WIN!

posted at 2:23 AM

Thursday, March 23, 2006 | The current mood of DuctapeFatwa

Brave Michigan Youth Hope to Bring Back Flower Power for Peace

In the 1960s, young Americans opposed to US crimes against humanity in VietNam took the flower as their symbol of peace. At demonstrations, where Washington frequently deployed gunmen (who on at least one occasion, fired their weapons and murdered their countrymen).

Images from the time frquently show young girls placing flowers on the guns of the gunmen sent to frighten and/or kill them.

Some young folks in Michigan are bringing back the "flower power" as part of their demonstrations against US crimes against humanity today, in Iraq, Afghanistan and beyond. I would love to see copycat flower power movements in every city!

From BostonJoe via ManEegee's blog:


Dear Peace People,

I am really quite gratified by the level of participation in this year's 3rd anniversary events. From the sign-up sheets, I was worried that we would not staff these protests at a level that would let the public understand the commitment of the peace movement toward this cause. But that worry has been cast aside. I've lost an exact count, but I honestly believe that approximately 350-400 or more people have participated in the events we've scheduled for this last week. And we still have two full days to go to boost that number. And that does not include the thousands (I'd say quickly approaching ten thousand or more -- horn honks of support we've seen from the public). The ratio of positive to negative response if well in excess of ten to one. Protestors have joined us from as far away as Howell, Clinton County, Jackson and Bay City, Michigan. And a couple of new residents of Kansas City. New peace people have joined in. And total strangers are delivering us hot chocolate, coffee, cookies and apples. Many
have stopped to shake hands from their car, or to just say thanks for doing
this. The public support is almost bizarre. The people are truly tired of this war.

Now for important notes. First, we started a "Petals for Peace" event today. Individual protestors are taking a single flower into Mike Rogers' office and giving it to Mike, asking him to stop the war. The response has been very good. We delivered in the neighborhood of 48 flowers today. A significant portion are from the public at large. And we want to continue this. It sends a great message to Mr. Rogers. You can help in a few different ways. E-mail this to your family, friends and associates, so that they might have a chance to participate. Stop by the picket and deliver a flower (it takes about 15-30 seconds, and you can park right in front -- no tickets issued yet and we will watch your car). Or, for those with the means, send a cheap floral arrangement to Rogers' office for Thursday or Friday. Make sure the card reads something like "Petals for Peace -- Stop the War". You just get the feeling on the ground that this is a really wonderful protest statement. The office is located at 1327 E. Michigan Ave., Lansing, Michigan 48912. And there is a great place to order flowers just a block away. Bancroft Flowers. (517) 371-4120. Just a block east of the protest site. (And they have given us a great rate on flowers for the protest.

Second, we're going to incorporate a new angle Thursday. "Kisses for Peace" where in addition to flowers, we are going to be delivering Hershey's Kisses to ask for peace. Friday, we are considering adding "Going Nuts for Peace," where we may deliver nuts for some kind. For those of you who got my earlier e-mail about baking cookies, we can deliver those also, but some have suggested that non-packaged consumables might be suspect from the Rogers' staff. So that is why we went "Kisses" instead. Don't worry. We will not let your cookies go to waste. Bring them by. We have some voracious cookie monster types on the picket lines.

Third, if you can't do the actual picket or one of the walk-up/drive-up quick protests, consider calling Rogers' office at some point in the day and telling him that you support the "Picket for Peace" outside his office. You want him to support legislation to stop the war and to hold the administration accountable. His office number is (517) 702-8000. Plus you can call him toll free in Washington D.C., at 1-877-762-8762. Or you could fax a sheet telling him you support the "Picket for Peace" at (517) 702-8642. I'm told that legislative offices weight communications in this hierarchy: Personal visits, faxes, phone calls, and e-mails. So help out if you can. Those of you who blog, post this info so we can get some regional or nationwide support.

Fourth, Tom is circulating an invitation to "Gone Wired" for pizza following the Picket for Peace. If you participated please come out and say hello again on Friday evening. I'm suggesting we might drink a beer for peace after pizza.

Fifth, I have to say a special thank you or two. I mean it seems to me absolutely everyone is helping to the maximum. So it is difficult to single anyone out without casting a shadow on everyone else's contributions. But just some really cool neat little thing. Margaret N. was out in the cold with us to march a pit. And that was pretty cool. And Amy B. bought a plant for a Rogers' secretary who has been making our lives much more enjoyable (and brought a nice smile to that person's face). Anyway. It has been so fun being out there. Hope you can join us for a bit Tomorrow has the potential to be slow, because Gary D., who has been there every minute
is unavailable. So anyone who can pick-up slack is appreciated.

Good night. And good luck.

Best,

Terry Olson



posted at 3:57 PM

Friday, March 17, 2006 | The current mood of DuctapeFatwa

Insurgent Cleansees: A True Story of Katrina Survivors and Surprise

Never mind their names, never mind how they escaped, let's call it a covert operation, they know what they escaped, they know what they saw, what they lived. The television screen that a few weeks ago, told the world of their plight, today says it never happened. Just hysteria. The mother watches, her face expressionless, instinctively she reaches for them, her children who will never again be children.

How far they have come in these few weeks, not just in miles, but in years, ages, pain and horror.
They were supposed to die. They know that, they know that by refusing to do so, they have defied America, they have become insurgent cleansees, survivors of what they are now told did not happen. The children's cheeks, and eyes, are less hollow now, less haunted, the youngest one has even began to protest his father's arms. This is a good sign, and his father lets him down to run about. His sister, who had ceased to speak, has broken her silence somewhat, but she still will not talk about It. Counseling, maybe, suggests a friend. We'll see, says her mother, braiding her hair. It is a complicated braid, a French braid, the girl calls it. A small smile from mother. A French braid is also counseling, for now.

They are not registered with, or receiving aid from any organization. Every so often they call some of the telephone numbers. They have never reached a human being, or been called back.

Yet they are lucky. Somehow, in another covert operation, funds have been raised sufficient to purchase a year of rent for them in a low end little cookie cutter town home. It will be cramped, the kids will have to share one of the two bedrooms, but at least they will have their own bathroom (and they will do their own cleaning of it, says mother) and it will be better than the four of them sharing a room in the house of a stranger, even though the stranger has now become family.

They have no possessions to speak of, to move in, but shadowy sleeper cells, in yet another covert operation, cause furniture to become present. Used, but usable. Here, says a plump terrorist matron, I never use these dishes, I will tell you a secret, my husband's best friend gave them to us years ago, and I never really liked them. Place setting for 4. The mugs and dessert plates are decorated with colorful roosters. The little boy's jaw drops. "WOW!" he breathes. His mother watches him, hugs the lady. I think they are beautiful, she whispers.

She does not cry, she has not shed one tear.

There is a scene in the movie, "In My Country," where after hearing hours of testimonies of atrocity victims before the South Africa Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Juliette Binoche, through her sobs, asks Menzi Ngubane, "Why aren't THEY crying?" to which he answers, "They are not surprised."

The halfhouse itself is a dull putty color. Mother and Father exchange a look. At the home improvement store, mother gently removes a satin rosette from a pocket in her purse. It is all that is left of their previous life. From our wedding, she says. Father holds it out for the paint technician to see. Do not touch it with those hands, just match it. By sunset, the little dwelling has a facade of palest apricot.

The sleeper cell conspires. The children, they decide, need more special attention than the local public school can provide. But there is no money. An operative goes undercover to make inquiries. The Enemy Within. The "progressive alternative" school is willing, but has no transportation, and it is far away. The Catholic School says no. The Mosque School says yes, and we have a bus. An old man in a turban arrives. We are Catholics, says the mother. Yes, I know, says the turbanned man. He nods to the little boy, soon you will be a Catholic who can read. The girl opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it. The man smiles at her, reading her mind. Not required, just modest dress.

A knock on the open door, an elegant lady with snow white hair graciously whisks mother and daughter off to shop, courtesy of a previously unknown group of elegant ladies of interest.

Outside, a man so old and brown he could have been present for the founding of New Orleans is incredibly, planting pansies, masses of them, periwinkle blue, they sulk at the indignity of transplant against the apricot-kissed stucco. He says they will perk up. They will recover before you will, says the elegant lady, returned from shopping, the ancient man, it seems, is hers. Tea, she orders her driver, who is alleged to be her great grandson, and the terrorists who have been busy hanging curtains and inciting the aapplication to the innocent walls of art from every continent, having seen that the kitchen is now stocked with a similarly diverse selection of global edibles, plop down to enjoy a fashion show (It turns out that mother and the turbanned man are quite in agreement on what constitutes modest dress for school girls, but a few sequinned "tank tops" for weekend fun somehow slip into the mix).

A fearsome street gang of young men from Mexico and Central America arrive in a burst of shouts, tattoos and alarming automotive sounds. They demand beer and rides home, they are leaving what they claim is an automobile they have made for father to use to go to his new job at a printing company. Proudly, they concede that it may be the most hideous and noisy vehicle in three counties, but they give their word that it will go both forward and backward. "De puras partes, lo hicimos!" they exclaim.

The mother looks around at her new neighbors, her new family, some in soft white cotton robes of Ethiopia, some in saris, salwar kameez, jeans and tshirts, baggy pants worn low to reveal waistbands of underwear, the teenaged street gang to the antique couple, and all ages in between, and goes quickly to the kitchen, I don't think we have any beer, she wants to say, she opens the refigerator, to find beer from Lebanon, from Belgium, from India, from Mexico and Palestine, and she leans against the open door, unable to stop the tears. Now she is surprised.

posted at 6:54 AM

Wednesday, March 08, 2006 | The current mood of DuctapeFatwa

Welcome Koufax Voters!

If you want your vote to send a message to the right, if you want to let them know that you know that everybody knows the US does not have a left, and if it ever gets one, we'll all know, then you have come to the right place.

Now I am told that it is my honor to have been nominated for best word writing on the internets, so I expect you will wish to see some. If I may ask you to step to the right, no, not THAT kind of right, the column just to the right of this one, you will see a long list of offerings, under the words "inflammatory rhetoric" and if you scroll down, you will see some more.

If you want long things, Haley's Nose and Advice for the New Poor should be long enough for anybody, and if you want short things, just click one of the others. They won't be too long, and if they are, then you can always click your teeth impatiently and go to another one.

Keep on scrolling down on the right to find Haley's Nose, Advice is in the red column, I think. And below Haley's nose, you will not wish to miss the Testimonials. I'm very proud of those. Maybe you will wish to leave one of your own.

I probably should have prepared some snacks, but I forgot. I have been too busy working on this absolutely great article that is just chock full of really splendoriffic word writing, much better than anything you'll see on here. I just haven't posted it yet because it is so good, it would be unfair to the other nominees.

I have also been nominated for the Deserves Wider Recognition Award, so if you are too intimidated by my excellent word writing to vote for me for that, you can vote that I deserve Wider Recognition.

You see, I am a fair man. I understand that some people prefer more mediocre word writing, and I respect that.

Of course, if you really want to stick it to those corporate rule blogs, you'll vote for me twice.

This would also have the added effect of thwarting my long term plan to be nominated for Koufaxes every year for a long time, and lose, thus becoming the Susan Lucci of the Koufax awards. So if you happen to be one of those people who do not believe that I deserve such an honor, I neither can nor should stop you from expressing that in the only way available to you.

posted at 1:11 AM

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testimonials
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.
RedTard
blogcritics.org
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!
Militarytracy
boomantribune.com
IMO - terrorist plain and simple. He is an Al queda operative who should be put in a cage on gitmo
Skinner
conservativeunderground.com
My favorite..."In Defense of Holocaust Deniers"
drdon326
democraticunderground.com
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.
limewireayane
peopleforchange.net
ductape is either a commie, al queda, or a deep cover mole
windansea
conservativeunderground.com
Tells you something about this asshole doesn't it. He's really serious.
GabysPoppy
conservativeunderground.com
I believe that DF is nothing but a Republican plant...
SallyCat
boomantribune.com
Ductape is a commie, a terrorist, and he drinks blood too. He drinks Capitalist blood. He eats unborn babies too
J97
conservativeunderground.com
Give me your address and I'll send you $20 and a thank-you note for taking your hatred elsewhere.
redwagon
boomantribune.com
A terrorist with a sense of humor!
Nephilim
conservativeunderground.com
He ain't nuthin' but shit
Jim Sagle
democraticunderground.com

inadequate, halfway house bullshit
Arthur Gilroy
boomantribune.com
You are a dumbass. Fuck you and your condescension about us "benighted sheeple."
hamletta
dailykos.com
Untruthful, damaging bullshit
John Locke
democraticunderground.com
no better than the neocons and no different than Timothy McVeigh space
dailykos.com
a turd in the punchbowl...if DF were Joe Hill he probably would have killed himself rather than get put to death.
nothingshocksmeanymore
democraticunderground.com
A compost pile of fecundity
Feanor
dailykos.com
despicable and literally mentally ill
Addison
dailykos.com