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COMMENTARY · 4th April 2011
Merv Ritchie
I Have A Dream! Cheers Mr. King I'm Trying, Happy Death Day!

It is a George Carlin Comedy skit all across the globe. We just finished watching the Gulf of Mexico fiasco with all the associated Mms-management of the entire Minerals Management Services (MMS), the sex parties, free game tickets and ignored policy procedures, when along comes Fuk-U-Shima. And there is really no better way of stating the obvious. It is just how Carlin would put it. He is rolling in his grave right now laughing his ass off at the corporate greedy pricks, "Fuk-U-Shima", He couldn’t have written it better.”

I grew up in the sixties, so there is no way you can call me a hippie, I was way too young. Today I have long hair and a long beard because I learnt about a new reality from the hippies. It was something they wanted but couldn’t figure out. Peace and Love they espoused. ‘Make Love not War’; ‘Give Peace a Chance’ was from John Lennon; all absolutely great ideals. The Hippies all kinda quit though, bought beamers, nice homes, became executive types, and others; the Canadians and USA draft dodgers, left to hide in the Slocan, upper Kootenays or the Shuswap areas of BC, among many other recluse locations.

The majority of those who lived as teenagers or young adults in the sixties however didn’t have the support or the backbone to continue with the march for truth and justice. They had just seen Kennedy get shot, a pure vision of hope and faith for the future, and the struggle simply went on too long. Martin Luther was shot, then Bobbie, Janice died, Dylan took a vacation after a motorcycle accident, Hendrix left the scene, Morrison too, the Beatles folded and the entertainment machine for the masses went into full production.

Television programming became just that, programming. It is in full swing today. This is reflected in what David Rockefeller, founder of the Trilateral Commission, is recorded as stating in an address to a meeting of The Trilateral Commission, in June, 1991.

“We are grateful to The Washington Post, The New York Times, Time Magazine and other great publications whose directors have attended our meetings and respected their promises of discretion for almost forty years. It would have been impossible for us to develop our plan for the world if we had been subject to the bright lights of publicity during those years. But, the work is now much more sophisticated and prepared to march towards a world government. The supranational sovereignty of an intellectual elite and world bankers is surely preferable to the national auto-determination practiced in past centuries.”

'Almost 40 years' he said, in 1991 and that takes us back to the fifties. And it is true to anyone who has eyes to see and ears to hear. We have all been fooled, co-opted into a false reality, one which is completely unsustainable. The evidence is everywhere; the ridiculous games of the politicians are obvious to all but the most gullible.

Yes I grew up as a ten and twelve year old during the late sixties.

I watched and learnt. I observed and considered. I reasoned. My parents were very well to do; the upper class of a mid western Canadian City. The Hippies were weird. I remember my mom, as we turned onto Broadway off of Eighth Street in our ’56 Pontiac,

“Don’t look at the hippies, they are dirty and have [I really think she said bones] in their hair.”

I had three older brothers, one who was clearly of the “Hippie age” though, being in the upper crust family we were in; he never got close, though he did introduce me to Pink Floyd, the Umma Gumma album.

So I became a caring loving person, I emulated all the beliefs of the Hippies; I trusted and believed in the future, Love and Peace man. I was duped.

The Hippies ran off.

Thing is, I am not alone. Hundreds of thousands of us grew up in the sixties.

We all learnt about returning pop bottles in the sixties; we got a couple cents for every bottle. This was recycling before it’s time. In the seventies we all learnt about not using poisons to kill weeds, DDT and all the other pesticides were known to be bad way back then, 40 years ago. Nuclear power and weapons; all of it we knew was bad, the banking cartels, the political crimes, the Vietnam War, Korea, we all knew, I was young, but I learnt along with all the rest of us who were born between the mid fifties and the mid sixties. We weren’t too young and we weren’t dumb, we watched and absorbed it all.

And here is what happened;

“We are grateful to The Washington Post, The New York Times, Time Magazine and other great publications whose directors have attended our meetings and respected their promises of discretion for almost forty years. It would have been impossible for us to develop our plan for the world if we had been subject to the bright lights of publicity during those years. But, the work is now much more sophisticated and prepared to march towards a world government. The supranational sovereignty of an intellectual elite and world bankers is surely preferable to the national auto-determination practiced in past centuries.”

Yup, we repeated that, cause you need to hear it again.

Today we watch CNN, CBC, CTV, FOX, CBS, Global, and all the rest. Here, take a test, click that remote, flip through the channels, you know exactly what you’ll find. Commercials at the same time and news stories that come from the same writers.

So yesterday the Japanese attempted the junk shot (a combination of paper, sawdust and polymers) on the puking leak at the Fuk-U-Shima Nuke Plant. Just like the idiots, the greedy BP pricks and their associated hippie investors, did in the Gulf of Mexico; the exact same thing the hippies protested about and against in the sixties.

I suppose we could jam a stick up Enbridges junk . . . oh sorry, I go too far.

We all knew it was wrong then, we know it is wrong now.

Junk shot, top hat, screw you, screw me, who cares.

The only question is are you going to continue to sit in your chair like a zombie with a remote control stuck in one hand and an alcoholic beverage or a joint stuck in the other?

You could, on the other hand, get the Fuk-U-Shima off your ass.

G'nite George, Thank you Mr. King