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Today's
Stories
September 9,
2004
Joe Bageant
Karaoke
Night in Bush's America
September 8,
2004
Patrick Cockburn
This
Doesn't Smell Like Victory: A War on Two Fronts in Iraq
Dave Lindorff
Bush Confuses; Kerry Mute: Spinning 1000 Dead
Bulent Gokay
Russian and Chechnia After Beslan
Lisa Viscidi
Land Reform and Conflict in Guatemala
Niranjan Ramakrishnan
Byrd's Eye View
Mike Whitney
Afghanistan: American's Drug Colony
Stan Goff
Body
Count: 1001
Website of
the Day
Bush and the Love Doctors
Sex,
Drugs & the Blues!
Serpents in the Garden
CounterPunch's
Sizzling New Book on Culture and Sex is Now Available
Click here to purchase
September 7,
2004
Diane Christian
Hostage Tactics: a Game of Mortal Poker
Joshua Frank
Greens
Unravel from Within
Patrick Cockburn
Fallujah
Erupts Again: US Death Toll in Iraq Nears 1000
Ron Jacobs
Bush and Putin: "We're Not Girlie Men"
Chris Floyd
Cry Havoc: Bush's Own Personal Janjaweed
Dr. Carol Wolman
No Blood for Oil at Paul Bunyan Day Parade
John Ross
The
Politics of Darkness North / South
September 6,
2004
Alexander Cockburn
An
Anti-Labor Day That Lives in Infamy: How Many Democrats Voted
For Taft-Hartley?
Ralph Nader
The
Cruel Legacy of Taft-Hartley: a Labor Day Call for Rights for
Working People
Lee Sustar
What's Driving the Attack on Pensions?
Kathleen and
Bill Christison
Dual
Loyalties: the Bush Necons and Israel
September 4-5,
2004
Alexander Cockburn
Elephants
and Gramsci
Ted Honderich
The
Way Things Are
Sasan Fayazmanesh
The
Holy Empire: Who We Are and What We Do
Douglas Valentine
What the World Should Know About Guantanamo
Patrick Cockburn
New Iraqi Police State Flexes Its Muscles
Gary Leupp
Neo Cons Under Fire
Fred Gardner
Pot Shots: the Hempstead T-Shirt
William A.
Cook
The
Day of the Lemming
Dave Zirin
Kobe Bryant and the Price of Freedom
John Chuckman
The Day the World Ended
Karyn Strickler
God Save the Endangered Species Act
Vanessa Jones
Bad Day with an Ikea Cup
Mike Whitney
Kerry: the "Better" War Candidate
Mark Donham
Dear John (Kerry): Start Explaining and Fast
Mickey Z.
McBypass Nation: Feeling Clinton's Pain
Alan Farago
Can the Everglades be Fixed?
Poets' Basement
Landau and Albert
September 3,
2004
Jeffrey St.
Clair
High
Plains Grifter: Jesus Told Him Where to Bomb
Rahul Mahajan
Bush's RNC Speech: an Annotated Response
Carl Estabrook
The
Book of Slaughter and Forgetting
Joshua Frank
The Florida of the Northwest: Oregon Dems Sabotage Nader Again
Gary Leupp
Music to My Ears: Sunday's March
James Hollander
Deja Vu in Manhattan: Assisted Political Suicide?
Mark Engler
Republicans
Among Us: a Week at the RNC, Inside and Out
Jesse Sharkey
Making Students and Teachers Pay for the Crisis in Education
Jane Stillwater
Calling the Cops on Your Own Kid
Stephen Green
Serving
Two Flags: the Bush Neo-Cons and Israel
September 2,
2004
Jeffrey St.
Clair
High
Plains Grifter: Part 3: More Pricks Than Kicks
Max Gimble
Et Tu, Menchu? Extrajudicial Killings and Clandestine Graves
in Guatemala
James Petras
President Chavez and the Referendum: Myths and Realities
Christopher
Brauchli
Bush and the Afghan Electoral Model: "If They Want to Vote
Twice, Let Them"
Todd Chretien & Jessie
Muldoon
Will the Democrats Expel Zell Miller?
Jack Random
Spite and Venom Day: the Turncoat and the Profiteer
Alan Maass
The Real Vietnam
Christa Allen
Contre Bush
Website of
the Day
[Redacted]
September 1,
2004
Alexander Cockburn
The
Stench of Doom
Kathleen and Bill Christison
Poor Larry Franklin
Dave Lindorff
Kerry's Litmus Test
Josh Frank
Protest in White: Not All of New York Rises Up
John L. Hess
Moles, Scoops and Flip Flops
Mike Whitney
Deconstructing Arnold
Jack Random
Kindergarten Night at the RNC
Andrew Wilson
War on the Pachyderms: Why Do Elephants Hate Us?
Jeffrey St.
Clair
High
Plains Grifter: Part Two: Mark His Words
August 31,
2004
Joseph Nevins
Escapism
and Global Apartheid: The Dominican Republic & the NYTs
Matt Vidal
Beyond
Bush's Rhetoric on the Economy
Neve Gordon
Kerry and the Middle East
Dave Lindorff
Bush
the Peace Candidate?
Mike Whitney
NPR Leads the Charge for War Against Iran
Jack Random
Opening Night: Playing the War Card
Jeffrey St.
Clair
High
Plains Grifter: the Life and Crimes of George W. Bush (Part One)
CounterPunch Photo of the Day
Pete Seeger in NYC
August 30,
2004
Justin Podhur
The
Disappeared Mayor
Shaun Joseph
The
Hypocrites at TheNaderbasher.com
Mike Whitney
Israeli Moles in the Pentagon: What More Could They Possibly
Want?
Ron Jacobs
Live, From New York: the Majority of Protesters Claimed No Candidate
David Lindorff
Sunday in Manhattan: the Sound of Marchin', Chargin' Feet, Boy
Dave Zirin
USA Basketball: The Team White America Loved to Hate
Sam Husseini
Israeli Spying on the US: a Long History
August 28 /
29, 2004
Alexander Cockburn
Zombies
for Kerry
Patrick Cockburn
Najaf Ceasefire Good for Iraq, But Weakens Allawi and US
Ray McGovern
Blowing Smoke on Intelligence
Dr. Juan Romagoza
From El Salvador to Abu Ghraib: Reflections of Torture Survivor
Ray Hanania
An Israeli Spy in the Pentagon? Ridiculous!
Fred Gardner
Eddie Lepp Busted by DEA: Facing Life for Growing Medical Pot
Diane Christian
Big Men: the Better Leader Lets You Live
William S. Lind
The Desert Fox
Paul D'Amato
The Left Takes a Dive for Kerry
Joshua Frank
Greens at the Crossroads
Mickey Z.
Media Declares War on Anti-War Protests
Winslow T. Wheeler
Sen. McCain's Pork Chops: an Exchange
Justin E.H.
Smith
The New Age Racket and the Left
Thomas St. John
Burning Slaves at the Stake: On "Sinners in the Hands of
an Angry God"
Ali Tonak
Help the NYPD?
Mark Engler
New York Says "No"
Justin Felux
Haiti: the Attica of the Americas
Poets' Basement
Gelman, Albert, Ford and Hamod
August 27,
2004
Gary Leupp
Neocon
Musings
Robin Cook
The
Ghosts of Abu Ghraib
Diane Christian
Disarming
Michael Donnelly
Situational Democracy: the Show Me the Green Party?
Jack Random
4F and Other Heroes: an Army of War Resisters
Mike Ferner
"To the Swift Boats!"
Mazin Qumsiyeh
7000 Palestinian Political Prisoners
Veronza Bowers, Jr.
"You Won't Be Leaving Tomorrow"
August 26,
2004
M. Shahid Alam
The
Clash Thesis: a Failing Ideology?
Diane Christian
War
Rules: Bush is No Sun Tzu
Derek Seidman
"They're As Bad As Wal-Mart:" Starbucks Workers Get
Organized
David Lindorff
Court to RNC Protesters: Drop the Rally
Christopher
Brauchli
Signs of Dissent: the Bush in the Bubble
Stew Albert
Reporting Suspicious Activity
Mark Donham
Judgement in Athens: Give the Koreans Their Day in Court
Saul Landau
Pinochet:
the Al Capone of the Southern Cone
Website of
the Day
The Kerry 527 Ad You'll Never See
August 25,
2004
Amelia Peltz
Can
I Have 9.8 Seconds of Your Time?
Noah Leavitt
Defining and Redefining Torture
Ron Jacobs
Takin' It to the Streets: It's Not About the Election, It's About
Democracy
James Brooks
Coronado Crosses the Jordan
Akiva Eldar
How to Win the Jewish Vote: Turn Gaza into a "Mini-Afghanistan"
Gemma Araneta
Chavez's New Brand of Populism
Philip Cryan
Uribe's Boys: the Death Squads of Colombia
CounterPunch Wire
Cheney Opens the Closet Door
August 24,
2004
Jeremy Scahill
John
Kerry: the Warchurian Candidate
Gary Leupp
"We
Want Them to Go Away"
David Domke
God
Willing: an Echoing Press and Political Fundamentalism
William Loren Katz
The Meaning of Hugo Chávez: Black and Indian Power in
Venezuela
Jonah Gindin
With Chavez? Reading the International Private Media
Fran Schor
Denying Atrocities: From Vietnam to Fallujah
Joe Bageant
Driving
on the Bones of God
Website of the Day
The Great America Lockdown: a Primer for the RNC
August 23,
2004
Winslow Wheeler
Don't
Mind If I Do: Porkbarrel and the War on Terror
John Pilger
Bush
May Be the Lesser Evil
Stan Goff
Swift
Boat Dogfight
Bill and Kathleen
Christison
Notes
from the West Bank: Build, Demolish, Rebuild
Mike Whitney
The Unraveling of Afghanistan
William Blum
Brave
New World of Iraqi Sovereignty
Ralph Nader
A Letter to the Washington Post: a Shameful and Unsavory Editorial
August 21 /
22, 2004
Cockburn /
St. Clair
"They
Want Blood:" The Bi-Partisan Origins of the Total War on
Drugs
Landau / Hassen
Failing
the Mission? Form a Commission
Brian Cloughley
The
Bush Team in Iraq: Moral Cowardice, as Practiced by Experts
Josh Frank
Nader as David Duke? The ADL Wants You to Think So
Mike Whitney
Reincarnating Mengele: the Torture Doctors of Abu Ghraib
Ron Jacobs
Day Labor Blues
Mickey Z.
Shooting at Whales: 40 Years After Tonkin
Fred Gardner
Dr. Wolman Comes Out: The Cannabis Consultants
Dave Zirin
Uprising in Athens: Iraqi Soccer Team Gives Bush the Boot
Josh Saxe
Witnessing Police Brutality in LA
Yanar Mohammed
Letter from Baghdad: a Democracy of Killings and Bombings
Helen Williams
Ali's Story: a Taste of Reality from Baghdad
Michael Donnelly
Elemental and NaturalForests, Fire and Recovery
Elizabeth Schulte
The Crisis in Affordable Housing
Poets' Basement
Adler, Albert, Virgil, Ford and Krieger
Hot Stories
Alexander Cockburn
Behold,
the Head of a Neo-Con!
Subcomandante
Marcos
The
Death Train of the WTO
Norman Finkelstein
Hitchens
as Model Apostate
Steve Niva
Israel's
Assassination Policy: the Trigger for Suicide Bombings?
Dardagan,
Slobodo and Williams
CounterPunch Exclusive:
20,000 Wounded Iraqi Civilians
Steve
J.B.
Prison Bitch
Sheldon
Rampton and John Stauber
True Lies: the Use of Propaganda
in the Iraq War
Wendell
Berry
Small Destructions Add Up
CounterPunch
Wire
WMD: Who Said What When
Cindy
Corrie
A Mother's Day Talk: the Daughter
I Can't Hear From
Gore Vidal
The
Erosion of the American Dream
Francis Boyle
Impeach
Bush: A Draft Resolution
Click
Here for More Stories.
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September 9, 2004
Karaoke Night
in George Bush's America
Another
Visit to Burt's Tavern
By
JOE BAGEANT
73 virgins in arab heaven and not a dam one in this
bar!
---Men's room wall, Burt's Westside Tavern
I know it makes me a dinosaur, but I
still think there is much to be learned in America's small neighborhood
taverns. I call it my "learning through drinking" program.
Here are some things I have learned at Burt's Westside Tavern:
1--- Never shack up with a divorced woman who is two house payments
behind and swears you are the best sex she ever had 2---Never
eat cocktail weenies out of the urinal, no matter how big the
bet gets.
Learning through drinking was
never dull. But when karaoke came to American bars it got even
more entertaining, especially at Burt's where some participants
get gussied up for their three weekly minutes of stardom. One
of them is Dink, a stubble-faced 56-year-old guy presently dressed
like Waylon Jennings. However, Dink's undying claim to fame in
here in Winchester is not his Waylon imitation, which sucks.
It is that he beat up the boxing chimpanzee at the carnival in
1963. This is a damned hard thing to do because chimpanzees are
several times stronger than a human and capable of enough rage
that the pugilistic primate wore a steel muzzle. Every good old
boy in this place swears Dink pounded that chimpanzee so hard
it climbed up the cage bars and refused to come back down and
that Dink won the hundred dollars. I don't know. I wasn't there
to see it because my good Christian family did not approve of
attending such spectacles. One thing for sure, though. Dink is
tough enough to have done it. (By the way, a note to readers
who email me asking if names like Dink and Pootie are fictional
devices. Hell no! Not only do we have a Dink and a Pootie here,
we also have folks named Gator, Fido and Tumbug---who we simply
call Bug.)
Anyway, with this older crowd
of karaoksters from America's busted-up laboring lumpen, you
can count on least one version of "Good Hearted Woman"
or a rendition of "Coal Miner's Daughter," performed
with little skill but a lot of beery heart and feeling. And when
it comes to heart and feeling, the best in town is a woman named
Dottie. Dot is 59 years old, weighs almost 300 pounds and sings
Patsy Cline nearly as well as Patsy sang Patsy. Dot can sing
"Crazy" and any other Patsy song ever recorded and
a few that went unrecorded. Dot knows Patsy's unrecorded songs
because she knew Patsy personally, as did lots of other people
still living in Winchester. We know things such as the way she
was treated by the town's establishment, called a drunken whore
and worse, and snubbed and reviled during her life at every opportunity,
and is still today sniffed at by the town's business and political
class. But Patsy, who took shit off no one, knew cuss words that
would make a Comanche blush, and well, she was one of us. Tough
and profane. (As you may have noticed, cussing is a from of punctuation
to us.) Patsy grew up on our side of the tracks and suffered
all the insults life still inflicts upon working people here.
Hers was a hard life.
The fat lady sings, then drops
dead. Dot's life has been every bit as hard as Patsy's. Harder
because she has lived twice as long as Patsy Cline managed to.
By the time my people hit 60 they look like a bunch of hypertensive
red faced toads in a phlegm coughing contest. Fact is, we are
even unhealthier than we look. Doctors tell us that we have blood
in our cholesterol and the cops tell us there is alcohol in that
blood. True to our class, Dottie is disabled by heart trouble,
diabetes and several other diseases. Her blood pressure is so
high the doctor at first thought the pressure device was broken.
Insurance costs her as much as rent. Her old man makes $8.00
an hour washing cars at a dealership, and if everything goes
just right they have about $55 a week for groceries, gas and
everything else. But if an extra expense as small as $30 comes
in, they compensate by not filling one of Dot's prescriptions---or
two or three of them---in which case she gets sicker and sicker
until they can afford the copay to refill the prescriptions again.
At 59, these repeated lapses into vessel popping high blood pressure
and diabetic surges pretty much guarantee that she won't collect
Social Security for long after she reaches 63. If she reaches
63. One of these days it will truly be over when the fat lady
sings.
Dot started working at 13.
Married at 15. (Which is no big deal. Throw in "learned
to pick a guitar at age six" and you would be describing
half the Southerners in my social class and generation.) She
has cleaned houses and waited tables and paid into Social Security
all her life. But for the last three years Dottie has been unable
to work because of her health. (Did I mention that she is slowly
going blind to boot?) Dot's congestive heart problems are such
she will barely get through two songs tonight before nearly passing
out.
Yet the local Social Security
administrators, cold Southern Calvinist hardasses who treat federal
dollars as if they were entirely their own---being responsible
with the taxpayers' money---have said repeatedly that Dot is
capable of fulltime work. To which Dot once replied, "Work?
Lady, I cain't walk nor half see. I cain't even get enough breath
to sing a song. What the hell kinda work you think I can do?
Be a tire stop in a parkin' lot?" Not one to be cowed by
mere human misery, the administrator had Dot bawling her eyes
out before she left that office. In fact, Dottie cries all the
time now. Even so, she will sing one, maybe two songs tonight.
Then she will get down off the stage with the aid of her cane
and be helped into a car and be driven home.
Although my people seem to
step on their own dicks (I couldn't think of a female metaphor)
every time they get near polling place, it is not entirely because
we are drunken inbreds, although it is a contributing factor.
The truth is that Dottie would vote for any candidate,
black, white, crippled blind or crazy, that she thought would
actually help her. I know because I have asked her if she would
vote for a president who wanted a nationalized health care program?"
"Vote for him? I'd go down on him!" Voter approval
doesn't get much stronger than that.
But no candidate, Republican
or Democrat, is going to offer nationalized health care, not
the genuine article. Of course we expect the Republicans to be
pricks, but the Democrats are no better. Guys like John Kerry
think they can stay in Washington and BUY progress with the money
they take from health care industry lobbyists buying off both
parties with campaign contributions. John Kerry does not know
anybody in Dottie's class. John Edwards claims to, but he's not
very convincing to these people. As Dink puts it, "Neither
one of 'em gets me hard." If Dot is lucky, a Democratic
pollster might call her, take her political temperature over
the phone to be fed into some computer. But that is about as
much contact as our system is willing to have with a 300 pound
diabetic woman with a small bird and a husband too depressed
to get out of his TV chair other than to piss or stumble off
to his car washing job.
Get sick, get well, Congress
says to go to hell. Americans are supposed to be so disgustingly
healthy, rich and happy. But I have seen half-naked Indians in
Latin America eating grubs and scrubbing their penis sheathes
on river rocks who were a whole lot happier. And in some cases,
more cared for by their governments. Once in Sonora, Mexico I
got very sick among the Sari Indians and needed a doctor. Every
damned Sari Indian had nationalized health care, but the American
crapping his guts out behind their shacks, a man who made a hundred
times their annual income, couldn't even afford health insurance
in his own country. I wish I could say they also had a native
cure for dysentery, but they didn't.
Actually, I can think
of one politician who stands up for people like Dot and programs
like nationalized health care. But he is busy right now being
president of Venezuela. Show me a political party willing to
put the people on the streets door to door, which is what it
will take to mobilize the votes of the working poor, and I will
show you one that can begin to kick a hole in that wall between
Capitol Hill and the people it is supposed to be serving. But
we both know that is not about to happen. Parties do not lead
revolutions. They follow them. And then only if things get entirely
too hot for them. The Democrats began to support the civil rights
movement only after the bombings and lynchings and fire hoses
and marchers caused enough public outrage indicated there were
probably some votes to be wrung out of the whole sorry goddam
spectacle playing out on American TV screens. That was back when
a Watts type city burn-down, a good old fashioned revolt could
still get Washington's attention. I suspect nowadays it would
be one of those national emergencies that Homeland Security would
handle.
But Dink and Dot are the least
likely Americans to ever rise up in revolt. Dissent doesn't seep
deeply enough into America to reach places like Winchester, Virginia.
Never has. (Even most blacks here are still pretty much sir-ing
and maaming the white folks and staying in their own part of
town.) Yet, unlikely candidates that Dot and Dink are for revolution,
they have nonetheless helped fuel the right wing revolution with
their votes, the right-wing revolution that is said to be rooted
in the culture wars neither one of them has ever heard of. I
often think the culture wars are just more educated liberal silliness,
cocktail chat that never touches the heart of the problem---which
is that gutless soft liberals refuse to cross class lines and
meet their suffering brothers and sisters face to face right
here on this earth. The Republicans did a great job of this in
grassroots organizing, and they were selling bullshit and a screwjob.
Imagine what an honest populist effort might do.
In the old days class warfare
was between the rich and poor, and that's the kind of class war
I can sink my teeth into. These days it is clearly between the
educated and the uneducated, which of course, does make it a
culture war, if that's the way you choose to describe it. But
the truth is that nobody is going to reach Dink and Dot or anyone
else on this side of town with some elitist sounding jabber about
culture wars. It's hard enough reaching them with the plain old
fact that the Republicans are the party of the dumb rich. As
far as they are concerned, dumb people like themselves have been
known to become very rich. Take Ronnie Fulk, the realtor we all
grew up with. He's dumber than owl shit but now worth a few million.
And he still drinks Bud Lite and comes into Burt's once in a
while. Besides, any one of us here at Burt's could very well
win the Powerball lottery and become just like Ronnie Fulk.
"It ain't all Boosh's
fault." It's gonna be a tough fight for progressives. We
are going to have to pick up this piece of road kill with our
bare hands. We are going to have to explain everything
about liberalism to the people at Burt's because their working
poor lives have always been successfully contained in cultural
ghettoes such as Winchester by a combination of God rhetoric,
money, cronyism, and the capitalist state. It will take a true
effort, because they understand being poor and in some respects
even accept it as their lot. Right down to getting sneered at
by the Social Security lady. But if we talk about their "exploitation
by the corporate state," they are going to say "Git
ta fuck outta here!" And the revolution which never seems
to get started will be again cancelled due to lack of interest
on the part of the oppressed. Naturally it is tempting, even
for me, to say, "Fuck'em. Let them lie in the bed they made
for themselves by voting for people like Bush." Then I remember
that it was the worst in our collective national character that
made their bed for them long ago. Like Dink says: "Except
for when I was in the Army, I never had health insurance in my
life. That ain't George Boosh's fault." It's not anybody's
fault that there are 44 million people like Dink and Dot. That's
the free market system---the weak ones die early and hard. And
besides, who cares about a fat lady who sings like some dead
hillbilly?
It's one hour before closing
time, and if there is one classy thing I do in this life, it
is never to be the last customer out of a bar. It only took 40
years to learn that. So I pay up and head for the door and Carol
the bartender calls out "GET A CAB BAGEANT." You're
damned straight I'll get a cab. This town has public drunkenness
laws and born-again Christian cops who take smug pride in enforcing
them.humble public servants who will throw you against a police
car and make your joints scream if you so much as giggle. Then
next day you WILL make the local paper under police notes. No
thanks.
Fortunately, the local cab
company---which we call "dial a derelict" because of
its halfway house resident drivers---is next to Burt's. So you
lean out the door and wave at the drivers watching for a fare.
Usually we know the driver, or went to school with one of his
or her relatives. And always we can tell by the last name on
the cab registration sheet on the visor that the driver is one
of us---a fellow link of flesh and blood in the chain of common
laborers stretching back over two centuries. It feels familiar
and good. Sometimes this symbiosis between the wet drunks at
Burt's and the dry drunks at the cabstand seems to be the last
superbly functioning human thing in this town. Meanwhile, Dottie's
voice can be heard faintly leaking out onto the street:
I'm crazeeeeeeeeeeee, crazy
for feeling so lonely Crazy, crazy for feelin so bluuuuuuuue
And those last notes just slide
away like a silk scarf dropped onto some stairway in the heart.
It is so utterly human how all of us ---me, the cabby, Dot---get
what we need from each other in that moment round midnight when
we share the common ghosts of this old town.
Joe Bageant is a magazine editor and essayist
living in Winchester, Virginia. He may be contacted at bageantjb@netscape.net
Copyright 2004 by Joe Bageant.
Weekend
Edition Features for August 7 / 8, 2004
James Petras
The
Anatomy of "Terror Experts": Meet the Mandarins of
Abu Ghraib
Fred Gardner
Run
Ricky Run: Football, Pot and Pain
Justin Delacour
Anti-Chavez Pollsters Panic: Fix Numbers; Reinvent Venezuela
Brian Cloughley
Persecuted by All; Supported by None: Who Would Be A Kurd?
Joshua Frank
The
Outsider: a Talk with Ralph Nader
Iain A. Boal
On "Shame": Warmed-Over Orientalism and Racist Projection
Chris Floyd
All About Eve: Open Season on Women in DC and Rome
Andrew Fenton
Fighting for Democracy and Justice in Haiti
Aseem Shrivastava
Saga of an Anguished Afghan
Neil Corbett
See Cuba: Sometimes a Cigar is Just a Cigar, Mr. Bush
Carol Miller
/ Forrest Hill
Rigged Convention; Divided Party: How David Cobb Won with Only
12% of the Vote
Tarek Milleron
Breaking the Principled Voter
Donald Macintyre
The
Battle of Najaf
Ron Jacobs
Spirits of The Dead: Why I Love My Petty Bourgeois Tendencies
Mickey Z.
Kid
Gavilan's Grave: Propaganda Scores a TKO
Poets' Basement
Adler, Ford and Albert
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