Can A Poor Man Fit Through the Eye of a Needle?

Nobody’s Opinion:

“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.”---Matthew xix.24.

It’s Good Friday, 2008, and not too far away from me people are scattering in trucks and cars with all their worldly possessions---trying to get away from yet another great Missouri flood.

More rain is expected.

A reporter on the local news yesterday said that he watched an old grandmother crying, kneeling on the ground…trying to give mouth to mouth to her obviously dead dog who did not survive her daughter’s run through the flooded road, dragging behind her a trailer-full of now deceased pets. (Horses, cats, chickens)

It broke his heart.

So, where was Richard Branson?

I mention Richard Branson because, as everyone knows, Richard Branson is very rich. He started out forming Virgin Records, and then started Virgin Airlines. He is now building Virgin Galactic, a space station in the New Mexican desert, along with Microsoft’s Paul Allen.

Obviously, Richard can’t get enough virgins.

And last weekend he threw a party on one of his many beautiful islands to “Stop the fire.”

Is there a fire? Well, no matter. Best get started on all those new “green” products along with “carbon-credits” to guard it off.

At this “party” was Larry Page of Google, Jay Wales of Wikipedia, Tony Blair, (now advisor to JP Morgan) Paul Allen of Microsoft, and quite a few beautiful models in bikinis just for fun. Richard wanted them to be nude, but the Prime Minister was there, he said.

Go ahead Richard---blame Tony. Everyone else does.

Google will help put out the propangda that there is a fire. Whole pages of Wikipedia must now be made “green.”

Now---I’ll be the first one to admit, that even though I could be a wee bit envious of Richard Branson, I myself wish that I had done all those marvelous things.

Capitalism is a great thing---until the few really rich start getting together to form monopolies, buy elections, and take control of the market in order to rule everyone’s lives while using their concentrated power and collusion to form ever more power and wealth.

And creating all these new “green” monster products is the next best thing to inventing carbon-based green bikinis made out of edible green coconuts.

I guess somebody has to do it.

Yes, Richard Branson, the man who doesn’t want to set the earth on ‘fire,’ is already producing ethanol big time here in the United States---the only other form of energy that spews more pollution into the air is a Bill Clinton speech.

So much for his “concern.”

But, if you want to see real power--- if you had any doubts at all who controls the halls of Congress, all you had to do was tune into the House Committee on Oversight and Investigations on C-Span last weekend, where our Congressmen faced the CEOs of all the companies of the subprime mortgage boom. Sitting at the table like tanned PGA Buddha Gods, were Richard Parsons and Charles Prince III of Citigroup, Angelo R. Muzilo of Countrywide Financial, and other financial ‘wizards’ of global industries.

Every single one of these guys got huge multi-million dollar bonuses while their companies and stock holders lost homes, fortunes, and island vacations.

The Congressmen were in such awe of these titans of business, one of them even acknowledged how honored he was to be in the company of the “men who run our country.” He quickly realized his mistake and tried to spin out of it, but slipped on his own salivating tongue.

It was a pretty obsequious, sycophantic show.

There were a few democrats who questions their ridiculous salaries, but the Titians of the banks did the same old, “I did not know what was really going on until it was too late” routine, while they sat in their chairs and watched the Congressmen quiver.

The grand plan here is plain; unify together, monopolized, control the world governments, control the media, create a big problem, and come in with the solution.

The earth is on fire! Give us your money, and we will fix it. In the meantime, you can all drown, and your little dog too. The less of you the better. We are here to save the beautiful earth so we can have more beautiful island parties, and next time, we’ll have nudes.

Frankly, I really don’t think any of the rich men I’ve seen lately care if they go to heaven. They’re already in it.

So, while the rich are planning a green global crucifixion, the rest of us riding the camels are trying to fit through that tiny hole.

I suggest taking all clothes off and using some good ol’ Mississippi mud for lubricant.

This Easter, I’m telling Jesus the poor might need a bigger needle.


Joyanna Adams is a lost soul who writes for nobodies and sometimes just for fun.
She lives in Missouri. You can reach her at joyanna5150@yahoo.com

Ranting Englishman

Nobody's Opinion: Here is an excellent rant, by an incredible man...check it out, here.

Call Them an "American"

Nobody’s Opinion: It’s a good thing President Bush came out this morning and got the nation’s focus off Obama’s historical racial speech yesterday, because instead of “unifying” Americans, it did only one thing: ignite exasperation.

Obama’s speech started out with how insidious it was that the founding fathers did not get rid of slavery with The Declaration of Independence.

Well, gee.

Personally, with all the intelligence he has, I was rather surprised to hear him rubbing that old wound with fresh salt. After all, for the next six weeks, the wonderful HBO John Adams series will certainly show that our forefathers had all they could do to just fight the British, let alone slavery too at the same time.

There is a scene in the first HBO episode where, at the trial of the Boston Massacre, John Adams, who is hired to defend the British soldiers, brings out the point that the “mob” was shouting the word, “Fire!” along with throwing ice and oysters shells; taunting them into firing…which they did.

Haven’t we seen the same tactic being used by the Clintons and their subordinates?

They finally got what they wanted.

The video of Obama’s bigoted and obnoxious family friend, Reverend Wright, forced Obama to play his racial black Jack. He had no choice but to defend his friend and the blacks on whose vote he depends, and in doing so, divided the nation once again into this pool of hypersensitive, hyperbole of “inequality.”

Obama’s weak arguments emphasized that he is not the unifier he proclaims to be, but just the man to lead the African-Americans out of the land of Egypt into the promised land.

Still---I have a better idea, and a story to go with it:

One day my kitchen sink stopped up--on a Friday. I called a local technician to come out.

“We can’t send anyone out if there is snow on the ground. We don’t let the men get up on the roof…it’s our policy.”

“What?”

I found their policy a bit absurd, since I assured the lady that, at my house the inch of snow we had gotten the night before was gone, and there was no snow on the roof.

Nope. She stuck to her story. Call back in two weeks.

This was not going to work. I got visions of fast food every night, gaining fifty pounds--- I would end up on Oprah. I was desperate. Selling my computer for new clothes was not an option.

So I called a competitor. It was up to the service man if he wanted to risk his life getting on a dangerous roof, I was told. Who knows what vicious icicles might attack him in the prime of his life. The company would not bear his medical expenses.

Within minutes I got a call.

“How’s your roof look?”

“It’s a little wet, but hey, I’ll get up there with you if you’re scared and catch you if you fall.”

So, when the “African-American” guy showed up in his big company truck, I said to myself, “Thank god, a man who wants to work.”

Only problem was, he didn’t have a latter.

(Note; Obama uses the label, “African-Americans” as much as he possibly can.)

“We have one,” I said. “I just don’t know how to open it.”

So there we were, a young “African-American” man, and a very worried white woman trying to figure out what button to push to open up this huge steel latter…a latter so big, the last time I opened it myself, I fell over backward from the weight of it and barely missed an electrical wire.

Tell me there isn’t a God.

We were having a bit of a problem, and the African-American man, expressed concern about getting it open.

“What, are you kidding?” I said. “We’re Americans! We can do anything!”

Well….I wish I could tell you the look on that African-American face. He took a step back, his eyes got big. He got real quiet.

He looked at me as if I had just told him I was from the planet ZEON and I was there to tell him he was my son.

It was plain, that the man not only did not like being called an American, a country that had enslaved his distant ancestors, but that he and I had nothing whatsoever in common.

The thought of the fact that he was an American, and I was an American, was almost a new concept to him…

And therefore the problem.

Most of the people who call themselves African-Americans were born right here. They have never even seen Africa, nor likely will they.

It’s time they remember many lives were sacrificed to free the slaves, and two wrongs don’t make an African-American right. The more they keep separating themselves from us with labeling themselves as different, the more the politicians will keep us all down.

It’s time these people look in the mirror each morning and say to themselves…

”I am an American. I can do anything!”

In fact, it wouldn’t hurt the rest of us either.

Tibet Needs a George...Washington

Nobody Flashes Anymore!

Oh my God...yesterday, on a day usually reserved for the Irish and all their great green celebrations, the Dalai Lama announced something that was so rare for a "ruler" of a people, I practically had to check my internet cable company for possible repairs...

Could it be true? A leader of a country (the Lama in this case, of Tibet) is threatening to...resign?

Well, by the looks of him, since he is far away from all the trouble and heartache of his own people, living well and happy in New York, I really don't think resignation is going to affect him too much.

Not when you get nifty red golf hats to go along with your attire.

No disrespect to the Dali Lama, but in his religion, violence is a no-no. I'm sure that's why he left his country during the first horrible blood killing...it's really too much for a leader to have to bear. We have many of our own leaders that feel the same way...they are called lama-liberals.

In the Lama's world, people can go ahead and kill other people, and take away all rights and honor, and lands--- and one people can murder any other people, because I guess, it's just human nature.

"But's lets not fight children, or else I'll have to resign as your leader." That's his stance.

Well, that's good news. I say, let the kind man from Tibet go on and hold "God" in his body...and keep living as a wonderful, kind old guy for us all to wonder about.

Let some other noble person take up the cause of protecting innocent lives.

And maybe, if the Tibetian people get really lucky, the next Lama will be a reincarnation of George Washington.

They could use a break.

Wake the Irish!

Everyone has a mentor. Mine is the incredible Doug Powers. He not only is an incredible writer whose voice is so unique that if you follow Doug to the pot of gold at the one and only Doug Powers rainbow, you will be rewarded beyond any expectations.

So, like all good students, I wanted to "honor" my friend and send him an Irish song...because--well Doug is Irish...or his mother's Irish.

I wanted him to wake up to an e-mail from me, singing to start off his St. Patrick's Day. Some people would consider that torture, but I figured, what could Doug do?

He doesn't know where I live.

But as my husband always says "People in hell want ice water." There are now about fifteen versions of this in my video library on my computer, which I could not fit into an e-mail, because I'm just...

Let's not go there.

It is now 10.30 pm. St. Patty's day is almost over.

This tape was made last Friday night in a "tipsy" stupor of silliness. And it's now Monday night and pardon my yelling Doug...but

IF I EVER HAVE TO DO SOMETHING SO COMPLITCATED AGAIN, I'M JOINING THE ARMY!

Sorry.

Let's just hope you remember, it's the thought that counts.

Anyone else can skip the tape...it's almost annoying.

But if you watch it, don't say I didn't warn you.

Nobody Bans Depression!

Nobody Reports on a Monday: Well…is nothing scared anymore?

Not according to Shawn Clancy of New York. He’s banning the singing of Danny Boy on St Patrick’s Day in his bar.

The guy’s an idiot.

I can think of a lot of things I myself would ban if I had a chance: those stupid plastic boxes on clothes in all your “finer” stores, Michael Jackson’s nose, solar lawn lights, half of my computer, most of my e-mail spam, potholes, unclean public restrooms, rats, the guy who’s singing Pirates songs in the bar because he didn’t go to mycreditreport.com, and Hillary’s Clinton's Cackle…

But to ban the singing of Danny Boy on St. Patrick’s day is like telling a woman about to give birth to---hey---just keep in inside, would ya?

Shawn was on TV telling the whole world he was doing it as a favor…Why we should all be happy, it’s a depressing song. But then he let out the REAL reason he is banning it.

It’s purely selfish. There is only so many times you can hear Danny Boy sung in your lifetime without going nuts, and Shawn has hit his nutty tolerance level.

In fact, he probably hit when he was thirteen.

To be fair to him, I can understand his lack of, compassion. I myself, for many years worked at pubs on St. Patty’s day (as the entertainer) …and on that night alone, everyone knows someone who wants to get up and sing that song.

And if you don’t let them sing it, you are damned to hell, and so is your mother---trust me. These people live all year just to sing Danny Boy on St. Patrick ’s Day in front of their friends.

And on St. Patty’s day, you don’t have to be Irish to start drinking at ten in the morning. By the time you get to eight in the evening, most everyone is primed for the big cry.

And that’s what it is---a big group hug-cry, which ends up as a bonding moment of pure satisfaction to everyone in the bar.

And there’s the one note that everyone wants to hold out for as long as they can…because well, it’s a contest of who can hold that one note the longest…

"AND I”LL BE HEEEEEEEEEEEREEEEEEEREEEEEREEEEEREEE
In sunshine and in shadow…oh Danny Boy , Oh Danny Boy I love you SOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" (whew! )

I tell ya, there was many a night while I was playing the piano on St. Patty’s day, and there was always some guy who just had to come up and sing it again, (after the first eleven people), because his brother had missed his first rendition…because he was at another Irish Bar singing the same song.

Yes, I have to agree…if you are sober and the rest of the room is drunk, hearing Danny Boy butchered for seven hours straight would probably be a good way to torture Islamic Jihadists…then let the lads take them back to the bar and drown them in green beer.

But, let’s get serious here. It’s one of the most beautiful songs ever written. I don’t give a mud-soaked boot who wrote it. It’s about a mother, knowing her boy is going off to defend liberty and fight for his country, and in the song he comes back alive.

Which of course is all any mother wants.

That song will be around long after old Shawn is well be dead and buried….

Which reminds me of the second verse, which nobody EVER sings, but I think says it all…

" And when ye come, and all the flowers are dying
If I am dead, and dead I well may be
You’ll come and find, the place where I’ll be lying
And Kneel and say an Ava there for me

And I shall hear the softly treat of autumn
And on my grave shall warmer sweeter be
For ye will kneeeeeeeeeel and tell me that you love me
And I shall sleep in peace to ye come to me."

Go ahead; finish the song…Oh Danny Boy….the pipes the pipes are calling…

Toast the boys in Iraq and all their mothers---Shawn, go on vacation.

So--I suggest if you’re in New York, go to O’Neill’s AJ Café where he will be having 1000 renditions of Danny Boy. Take it from an old pro…Shawn Clancy likes the song Molly Malone, which is about the stupidest song I’ve ever heard…but okay if you like cockles and Mussels.

I will say no more.

Happy St. Patty’s day, everybody---and now to the news:

Nobody’s Perfect: Any man, like New York politician, Eliot Spitzer, who would pay $5,000 for a hooker for one hour, and then do it again, has serious math issues.

Nobody’s Knows; Was Obama doing drugs when he was in church listening to Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s God damning America? Is that why he doesn’t remember?

Nobody Cares: As much as the Democrats want to separate church and state, it seems all they do is campaign in churches. Still, the Republicans don’t seem to care.

Nobody Wins: When California starts down the long path of controlling and outlawing home schooling, it’s an ominous forecast for the rest of us.

Nobody’s Fool: Isn’t it interesting that just this week that “tape” of Obama’s priest came out…how long has he been doing this hate white/America show?

Well…all this racial hatred is giving me the urge to just be depressed. Pardon me while I go sing…(ahem)…..

“Oh Danny Boy…the Pipes, the Pipes are calling….”

Nobody has the right to ban depression…God bless the soldiers! Pass the beer!