MICHAEL O. ALLEN

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Drugs

Now, This is Satire!

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Satire has to have an element of truth to it, I told a friend a couple of days ago in my argument with people over why the New Yorker magazine cover did not work as satire.

I found this piece at Huffingtonpost.com talking about the same subject and using a political cartoon trying to puncture some of the magazine’s editors’ arguments for using the cover. But I believe the HuffPo writer messed up a little. Only a little.

He failed to mention that Cindy McCain was indeed addicted to prescription drugs that she stole from an organization that she headed; Maverick, good ol’ Johnny Mac, is actually very, very old (I hear he’s going to be 150 years old on Inauguration Day); and  he so did  sing that song before an audience.

What I don’t know is whether Mr. Clean hearts Dick Cheney the way B. Hussein O. allegedly adores Osama.

In contrast to the Horsley cartoon, which is a veritable documentary of the lives of the McCains, there’s no piece of information in the New Yorker cartoon that you could point to as being true about either of the Obamas.

So, the New Yorker disseminated the worst of right-wing smears that bear no relationship to the truth about the Obamas.

Finally, Horsley’s cartoon is not likely to get either of the McCains killed. The New Yorker’s cover is an invitation for some deranged patriot to go out and try to kill the Obamas.

Snoop Dogg – My Medicine (Official Music Video)

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Snoop with Willie Nelson. This is way too cool!

Alright, so I can’t say that I’m the most dedicated country music aficionado out there but this is, simply, the best and most effective country music song I’ve ever heard.

Snoop Dogg’s ‘My Medicine’ lyrics

Yeah
I Like to dedicate this record here
to my main man Johny Cash
A real American gangster
I got my nephew Whitey Ford on the guitar
Young Treb on the drums
Grand ol’ Opry
Here we come
Oh

Jack me nimble, jack me quick
jack of the spoon on the candlestick
don’t stay pimpin’ on the one trick only
yeah she kinda skinny but she gets my money

Ref:
Get my money
buy my medicine
buy my medicine
buy my medicine x2

Yeah
You know I’ve got to have that medicine
That prescription medicine baby
You know purple orange green

Jack starts hanging round with the fiends
Got strung out sold and count of beans
Told young wifey he got love your honey
But you gotta hit the streets
go and get my money

Ref x2

Yeah
The more dedicated the more medicated
Can you feel me?

Girl my love gonna last
just as long as my high

And I’m high
All day, everyday

You can trust every word
I’m gonna say will be a lie

Haha
Yeah, I lie sometimes

What’s the use of the truth
if you can’t get a lie sometimes baby
Now, dig this

Jack starts a track up and down a hill,
gotta walk and think “an ace what he told to Jill”
Come rain, come shine, come snow of a sunny
Get the f**k out girl and get my money

Ref x2

Yeah
They say you can’t buy me love
but you damn sure can buy me bud

Girl my love gonna last
just as long as my high

Oh, I’m so high right now
how about you?

You can trust every word
I’m gonna tell you is a lie

Liar, liar pants on fire

Girl, I love you
I love you though

Living and dying on these Jersey streets

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IRVINGTON, N.J. — Dolores Timmons watched as the woman who lived across the street paced the sidewalk for a good half hour under a scorching August heat, back and forth across the length of her front yard as if encased by invisible walls. They lived in similar brick and wood-frame homes here on a busy working-class block of 18th Avenue off the Garden State Parkway, but they had never spoken.

Another neighbor told Mrs. Timmons that the woman, Shalga Hightower, was mourning her 20-year-old daughter, one of three college students who had been shot dead in a Newark schoolyard a few days earlier. Mrs. Timmons walked across the street to introduce herself and offer condolences, bringing her grandson, Gary Farrar Jr., who was just a year older and also in college, studying graphic design at Rutgers.
Soon the two women struck up a neighborly acquaintanceship, making small talk when they ran into each other or waving from their stoops.
Mrs. Timmons, 64, had lived on the block for 24 years, and she occupied the first floor of her two-family house; upstairs were Gary and his parents, Gary Sr., a landscaper, and Betty Farrar, a nurse. Ms. Hightower, 47, a home-health aide supervisor, moved there last June with her three children; Iofemi, the oldest, was about to enter Delaware State University when she was killed.

Iofemi Hightower and Gary Farrar Jr., lived on the same street. Hightower was to enroll in Delaware State – oldest of three children.Shot and killed August, 2007 by strangers while chilling in a schoolyard with friends. Farrar, an only child, graduated from Rutgers. Shot and killed April 20, 2008 – in a driveby on his street (by a stranger) while walking friends to their car.

As the months passed, Mrs. Timmons noticed how Ms. Hightower would often wear a memorial T-shirt stamped with her daughter’s picture.
“When Iofemi died, I remember thinking how fortunate I was that my grandson was in college, away from these crazy streets out here,” Mrs. Timmons said on Monday. “But then he graduated and came back home and now he’s dead, too.”

For the families who live on this hilly stretch of 18th Avenue between Grove Street and Eastern Parkway, where Irvington juts into Newark, Ms. Hightower’s killing last summer — six suspects have been arrested — brought the violence that surrounds them frighteningly close. Losing Mr. Farrar barely nine months later —just four months after he had graduated from Rutgers and returned home — was something beyond.

* * *

“We made our sacrifices and just raised our son the best way that we could,” Mr. Farrar said on Monday.

Iofemi Hightower worked for Continental Airlines in Newark and planned to study business at Delaware State. Mr. Farrar had a degree in graphic design from Rutgers and was a waiter in Montclair as he pursued a job in his field. They were, by all accounts, exceptions — “good kids who stayed out of trouble and had hopes and dreams for the future,” as Mrs. Timmons put it.

Mr. Farrar, she said, recently bought a navy three-button suit to wear on job interviews. Now, she said, his parents plan to bury him in it.

Read The New York Times for the rest of this heartbreaking story

The people's house

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Last August, a bridge fell in Minneapolis and we learned it would cost $225 billion a year for the next 50 years just to maintain America’s crumbling roadways and bridges.

A new report just out says African Americans still lag behind white Americans significantly in income, education and other measures of well-being.

Healthcare in America is abysmal. Education is even worse. The health index for America’s children is worse than in many third world countries.

Remember that illegal war that we lied our way into? It’s still going on and America’s service men and women are still dying for lack of proper gear.

Another new report says one in every 100 American is now behind bars, a new record.

Every indication is that the American economy is cratering, on the verge of collapse.

And I am sure there are even more serious problems plaguing our nation that I am overlooking. At least I know the men and women that we elected to the United States Senate and the House of Representative are hard at work tackling those problems.

Why, just yesterday, a Congressional subcommittee held a hearing where it threatened to impose on America’s major sports cartel testing for performance enhancing drugs.

A different committee has asked the U.S. Justice Department to investigate whether an athlete lied in his testimony trying to refute allegations of PED use made by a former friend of his, an admitted serial liar.

Stakes & Commitments

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Photo by Max Whittaker for The New York Times: Barack Obama, then known as Barry, in a 1978 senior yearbook photo at the Punahou School in Honolulu. At Punahou, a preparatory school that had few black students, he talked with friends about race, wealth and class.

Back at the time the New York Times explored in today’s paper, running for president of the United States had to have been the furthest thing in Sen. Barack Obama’s mind. He must have been around 20 years old and he was trying to figure out his way in this world.

What seems clear is that Mr. Obama’s time at Occidental
from 1979 to 1981 — where he describes himself arriving
as “alienated” — would ultimately set him on a course to
public service. He developed a sturdier sense of self and
came to life politically, particularly in his sophomore year,
growing increasingly aware of harsh inequities like
apartheid and poverty in the third world.

He also discovered that he wanted to be in a larger
arena; one professor described Occidental back then
as feeling small and provincial. Mr. Obama wrote in
his memoir that he needed “a community that cut
deeper than the common despair that black friends
and I shared when reading the latest crime statistics,
or the high fives I might exchange on a basketball court.
A place where I could put down stakes and test my
commitments.”

Sen. Obama, (D-IL), wrote in “Dreams From My Father” about youthful drug use prior to and during this period, drug use that stopped after he transferred to Columbia University in New York City.

Mitt Romney, who abandoned his candidacy for the Republican nomination this week, disgracefully tried to make some political hay out of this admission. He got nowhere. Later, Bill Shaheen, an adviser to Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, also tried to make it into a campaign issue, suggesting that Mr. Obama’s history with drugs would make him vulnerable to Republican attacks if he became his party’s nominee.

“It’ll be, ‘When was the last time? Did you ever give drugs
to anyone? Did you sell them to anyone?’” Shaheen told
reporters in New Hampshire. “There are so many openings
for Republican dirty tricks. It’s hard to overcome.”

Hillary disavowed the comment and forced Shaheen to resign as one of the co-chairs of her campaign.
People in the past questioned whether Mr. Obama took some literary license in “Dreams of My Father” to make the book more dramatic. In this article, the Times tracked down people who knew Mr. Obama back then and almost to a one none remembers him as a drug user.

“He was not even close to being a party animal,” one friend from the day told the Times.

Serge F. Kovaleski, the Timesman, wondered and speculated about this:

Mr. Obama’s account of his younger self and drugs, though,
significantly differs from the recollections of others who do
not recall his drug use. That could suggest he was so private
about his usage that few people were aware of it, that the
memories of those who knew him decades ago are fuzzy or
rosier out of a desire to protect him, or that he added some
writerly touches in his memoir to make the challenges he
overcame seem more dramatic.

In more than three dozen interviews, friends, classmates and
mentors from his high school and Occidental recalled
Mr. Obama as being grounded, motivated and poised,
someone who did not appear to be grappling with any drug
problems and seemed to dabble only with marijuana.

In short, it was a portrait of a remarkable young man poised to do great things, not unlike someone any father would wish their sons and daughters to grow up to be like. He displayed the allure he now poses for voters even back then.

Mr. Obama displayed a deft but unobtrusive manner
of debating.“When he talked, it was an E. F. Hutton
moment: people listened,” said John Boyer, who lived
across the hall from Mr. Obama. “He would point out
the negatives of a policy and its consequences and
illuminate the complexities of an issue the way others
could not.” He added, “He has a great sense of humor
and could defuse an argument.”

Voters in caucuses and primaries this weekend, next week, and the next several months will have opportunities to take the measure of this man and decide whether to make him the Democratic Party nominee for president. They could choose to vote, as he is fond of saying, for him, rather than against somebody.