Chapter Thirty-Two

“How are you doing Poppy?”

George H.W. Bush Sr. was old…older than Cheney, but his legacy was safe, as long as he was alive. Lately, he had to work harder than ever to keep it that way. “I’m fine Dick. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m hanging in there,” Cheney replied, “but I must admit, I am a bit concerned about the pop culture brewing in the White House.”

“Oh?” Bush slowly turned in his chair to face Cheney. “It seems to me that we have that bud nipped. What are you worried about?”

Cheney gathered his thoughts. He had always gotten along swimmingly with Poppy, a constant business partner and mentor, but momentarily realizing he was speaking with “the master,” (as Bush is referred to within the espionage community) sometimes it was unsettling. “I’m concerned about ‘our man’ in the White House being a possible Manchurian candidate,” Cheney admitted. “I don’t want to be paranoid, but it seems as if he is susceptible to public opinion that we don’t want.”

Bush glanced at the floor and thought for a moment. “Did you happen to catch the documentary ‘Dreams of My Real Father’?”

Cheney looked perplexed. “No, I figured it was more propaganda to hurt his chances of winning a second term…it didn’t matter anyways.”

Bush stared at Cheney. “We’ve known since the first election that his real father is the deceased Frank Marshall Davis, that commie organizer from Chicago. We were able to get a DNA analysis from an independent source.”

Cheney looked awed. “Is that what we’ve ‘got’ on the President? This whole time we’ve been saving it?”

“There is some stickiness involved,” admitted Bush. “At first, we thought we had the ultimate trump card. He obeyed orders and kept away from ‘that which shall not be named,’ but a short while ago, he gained some intel that should not have been obtainable.”

Cheney thought for second, “are you still worried about ‘the big event’?”

“Yes…and no.” Bush paused. “The President’s grand father, Stanley Dunham, was CIA and a trusted member of ‘the company’. However, we didn’t realize how deep his affections could run for his kin compared to our allegiances. We thought he hid the president’s paternity for personal gain and consideration for the CIA. It turns out, he respected this commie and had a sit down with him and his child right after MLK and RFK were assassinated. He spilled the beans intentionally, and ever since, our president has realized he has a double identity.”

“Holy shit!” Cheney was stunned. “The president’s granpa was CIA, and his dad was a commie. No wonder he’s such a moderate. Well, can’t we get him on perjury for stating his dad was that Kenyan?”

“We can,” started Bush, “but the problem is, what will the CIA do?”

“What do you mean?” asked Cheney. “I thought the CIA held you with the utmost importance.”

“That’s the conundrum,” Bush said. “I’ve been able to keep myself protected for decades…but this anomaly makes me hesitant to play out the same strategy. Some in the CIA may consider his story not only newsworthy, they might actually empathize with it.”

“So you understand why I’m concerned?” asked Cheney.

“Of course, but remaining status quo has sufficed so far, and so far, that’s all I’m willing to agree to.”

Cheney stifled the impulse to freak out. “I see. Well, can you tell me any good news or possibilities I should investigate?”

Bush considered the question. “Sure. Keep your eyes peeled for our President’s lack of fascination with Julian Assange and Bradley Manning. There is a clear and present danger that our leader does not consider them the threat that they are. That could be the link we need.”

Review of "Dreams of My Real Father" [documentary on Obama's life]

Just watched "Dreams of My Real Father", which was supposed to be a smear piece on Obama, but if you get past the right wing rhetoric, has an amazing amount of good information (and photos) of his life story. The idea that Obama's real father is Frank Marshall Davis, Chicago Communist organizer, which was hidden by his grandfather, CIA agent Stanley Dunham, (only because how embarrassing would it be that his rebellious daughter would have an affair with a known communist?) is pretty radical...but there's a lot of great evidence.



Instead of shocked, I'm actually intrigued.



Grampa was CIA and Dad was a commie? No wonder he's a moderate.

Heaven Was My Life featuring REP (new organ by John Maxfield)

[hook]
If I go to hell, I bet I keep my wings, because
Heaven was my whole damn life...
Heaven was my whole damn life...
Heaven was my whole damn life...
[x2]

Toth:

Our father, hallowed be thy name, for it's
you from whom I came, thy kingdom
come, (right now) thy will be done, on
Earth as it, is in Heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread, for
with it, I make my bed, I don't tress-
pass, so I won't get tresspas-sed, the only
temptation going is to end up dead, to the

Truth, that evil really has no head, you can't
dance with the devil, when he has no legs, just a
bunch of bad decisions that has no end, unless you
separate yourself from them. So let's be

friends, for thine is the kingdom and the power to
lend, more Ender, more glory to remember, there
is no beginning and there'll never be an end, for-
ever...forever...forever... amen.

[hook]

REP:

Heaven was my whole
life, life, life where did I fail?
On a mission to prevail,
Represent, I get it, how I live,
God forgive me for all my sins,

Amen, and at the end of every prayer,
at the end of everything we laid down, before he come saves us,
Represent, been here representing for the underground,
They don't own me so I often speak with a new and final offer of sound,

Lay 'em down, stick 'em up, screw 'em like a nail,
and this life we live, sometimes I feel like we in hell.
Stop where ye dwell...
sometimes I'm figuring this shit out my nigga, sometimes where did I fail?

But I don't know, I don't know
I can't choose it, you must show me,
I can't figure it out neither,
give me a path, so I can proceed thus.

[hook]

Gratitude for All

I'm grateful for God aka Allah aka Yahweh aka Positive Energy aka Divine Law aka All in All aka Only Love aka Harmony aka whatever you believe it is that makes this universe the heaven that it is...and behold, it was very good.


I believe religions are like languages. How silly would it be to criticize someone for speaking a different language? In the end, we are saying pretty much the same thing. A higher power or law (for my atheist friends) creates all around us...and it's amazing.


Could you imagine if President Obama asked everyone to pray together today? "Christians to Christ, Muslims to Allah, Jews to Yahweh..." Just that alone would bring the whole world to a higher energy.

J-Toth from Hoth Talks Rap and Frozen Food Section with Tef Poe

River Front Times:

Tef Poe: Explain to us the origin of the name J-Toth from the Planet of Hoth. Also, briefly talk to us about your indie label the Frozen Food Section and the origin of its name.

J-Toth: I, Jonathan Getzschman, started my rap/poet career as 'J to the Getzschman, the name appearing on my checks and, sticking to your memory like wet sand...' Turned out I was wrong, so I pushed 'to the' into 'tothe' as in 'J-Tothe', but that didn't sound right, so I took off the 'e. J-Toth was at that time [1998], living in Summit County Colorado, working and snowboarding in the mountains. Being a Star Wars child, Colorado felt very much like the planet Hoth from the movie Empire Strikes Back, and it rhymed...so J-Toth from Hoth sounded like a rap nerd's dream name. Turned out I was right.

When I began conceiving my record label in 1999, Nelly had just gone platinum, and I was one of the few dissenters who couldn't stand Country Grammar (just my ears, I respect Nelly for his craft). By the time he released his second album, "Hot in Herre" filled the radio waves, and as a competing artist, instead of being hot, I decided I'd rather be cold as hell. So the Frozen Food Section was born with the release of my first album Brainwashing: The Art of Hiphopera and vinyl 12" Chaos and Cannibalism in June of 2002. Aside from being a record label, Frozen Foods is also an artist collective for some of the hip hop, rock, folk and soul of St. Louis. Personally, I rap, sing and make beats, but I also record, mix and master everything that comes out of "The Cooler," our studio.

Exactly what type of music do you create?

I make a mix of hip hop, soul, rock and poetry twisted into a rap format, depending upon which project I'm working on at the time. My first album was 'sci-fi/nerd rap', my second was 'emo rap', my third was 'children's rap', my fourth was 'revolutionary rap', etc. I try to embrace different styles and play with them my way as often as possible.

Most of your projects are concept albums -- have you ever came up with a concept that you felt was pushing the bar too far? Tell us about a time that a particular concept you developed for a song or album was shelved by you for possibly being too extreme or over the top creatively.

The big issue for me, being a white boy is usually race. When I first began, I noticed new listeners could really feel me, or were immediately turned off. Because I don't mask my accent, it often clashes with the expectations of most hip hop fans who are used to hearing rappers 'sound black'. Vanilla Ice fooled many people into going platinum, but once his mask fell off, he fell off. I didn't (and still don't) feel that 'keeping it real' really means, 'front your ASS off.' I'd rather just be me (except when I want to play with alter egos). As far as shelving projects, sure, I have experimented with how to debunk racism and homophobia, by proving how ridiculous they are in music, but it's difficult to do it tastefully without offending somebody. I never officially released 'Do the Whiteboy', but it pokes at some of things people don't like to talk about:

"why ever bother doing stuff that sucks,
'Do What You Like,' (right?) like Humpty Hump, and
that's just what we white boys do, so
don't try to stop me, or I'll find a way to sue, no
dumb shit (true), we learned to stay above it, what we
really love to do is run shit like you, so...(Do the Whiteboy)"

Do the Whiteboy

Which of your albums is your personal favorite and which is the most critically acclaimed?

My favorite album of mine is probably SICK BOYS with DJ Crucial. We've been skateboarding each for 26 years, so we made a collabo for the ages. My most critically acclaimed would be The Lovecycle because I got MF DOOM and Serengeti on it...but I love that one too.

Any last words?

Last words? Yeah, I'm still sitting on an album Tef and I did in 2006...holla.

Do the Whiteboy (GOP theme song)

They all want to know exactly what it’s really like, being white.

[Toth]
Alright, they wanna know. Hey Tucker, Splitface gave this beat that sounds like Frankenstein on acid, so let’s do this like Clueless.

[Tucker]
Do what?

(hook)
Do the whiteboy…Do the whiteboy…
Do the whiteboy…Do the whiteboy…

(Toth) We got the
good, the bad, and we also got the ugly, that’s
Jesus, Hitler and the leaders of our country,
What? Christ wasn’t white? You think I’m wishing? In
that case, in place of the ugly put Mel Gibson.
Anti-semite? Man, don’t play a dummy, be
psyched we got other people managing our money, an-
other race cooks, another cleans clothes, an-
other runs 7-11’s another mows, and
everybody takes their place where they belong, and
loves their job…unless…I could be wrong, but
why ever bother doing stuff that sucks,
“Do What You Like,” (right?) like Humpty Hump, and
that’s just what we white boys do, so
don’t try to stop me, or I’ll find a way to sue, no
dumb shit (true), we learned to stay above it, what we
really love to do is run shit like you, so…

(hook)

(Tucker)
BLAH! Beware the white devil! Ad-
dicted to bass, cause I was raised by the treble, be-
fore hip hop was pop, it was heavy metal, but Met-
allica was too greedy when Napster got settled.
Keep your eyes peeled! I’ll steal your ideas, and
print them in books, so that my people can read ‘em, and
take advantage of missed opportunities that haunt you, since
we don’t HAVE to go to work, we WANT to.
You need me, or else the industry would stop, the
internet would fail, and you wouldn’t get good pot,
80% of your rap sales would drop, but inter-
estingly enough, boot-legging would not. If you
wanna join a team, where the win is guaranteed, leave your
melanin at home or at least bring some bleach, the
greatest trick the devil ever pulled was white hype, don’t for-
get, white rhymes with right, right?

(hook)

(Abe tha Babe) (Do the
whiteboy?) Right boy, get it through your skull, before I
fuck around like John Mayer and get into your soul. We
built this city on Rock-n-Roll, and Chuck
Berry lives here, though he’s awful old. We’re
way past the days of “come here boy,” and re-
placed the Stevie Wonder with Jamirquoi,
Public Enemy’s black-balled for preaching terror, and who
needs Alicia Keys, there’s Christina Aguillera,
Bob Marley WAS in it for the long haul, but we
found UB40 and Snow, then Sean Paul, the
caucasoid’s got it, that’s no reason for hating it, cause
while you’re sitting pissed, my fam’s out making it,
we got exceptions, like those young Eminem’s, but ev-
entually, he made the grade in the end. We
use your music in new ways that’s too clever, cause
anything you can do, I can do better…

Oh whiteboy you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey whiteboy! Hey whiteboy!
Oh whiteboy you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey whiteboy! Hey whiteboy!
Oh whiteboy you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey whiteboy! Hey whiteboy!
Oh whiteboy you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind!
Hey whiteboy! Hey whiteboy!

Daniel 12:10 Many shall be purified, and made WHITE, and tried; but the wicked shall do wickedly: and none of the wicked shall understand; but the wise shall understand.

…and God hath spoken.

Chapter Thirty-One

The phone rang twice before Assange put up his laptop and answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Assange?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Paula Broadwell.” She let the words sink in.

“Well…to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“To the fact you’re the one guy who can’t get in anymore trouble than you already are.” She waited.

“This line is probably tapped.”

“It doesn’t matter. Anyone listening would know what I know anyways,” said Broadwell. “You got a pen and a few minutes?”

That’s what she said, Assange thought. “Let me check my schedule…yes, I have the time.”

“You need to be aware of some big things going down, and if any of this is considered whistle blower material, please print it as soon as possible.”

“You’re in the media,” Assange replied, “why not take the credit yourself?”

“I’m still military, regardless of what stage,” said Broadwell, “and I’m not trying to become the next Bradley Manning.”

“This won’t be traceable to you?” asked Assange.

“I’ve got links that some careless higher-ups have left open to the public,” Broadwell continued, “but let me sum it up: Karl Rove has been a very bad boy.”

Assange smiled. “Do tell.”

“First, the Benghazi charade all stems back to him. General Petraeus was used by Rove to get the goods on resources in the middle east. Second, the internal struggles going on within the Ecuador government and military are a result of Rove using his influence to force those sympathetic to you out. Third, Rove attempted to use his ORCA network during the election to affect vote tallies on a national scale, but he was thwarted by associates of Anonymous.”

Assange’s smile widened. “Really? I thought my peeps would’ve bragged to me about that one by now.”

“It went unverified until an hour ago,” Broadwell replied, “apparently, they got scared when Rove found out. They put up a firewall around his network on election day. He tried over a hundred times to hack the national voting database, and he would’ve too, but thanks to a handful of do-gooders, the tallies went untainted…at least from Rove’s end. Did you get to see him on election night? He was freaking out. He kept commenting that the election ‘wasn’t over yet.’ FOX News was certainly waiting for him to pull a rabbit out of the hat.”

“A $300 million dollar one at that.” Assange paused, “thanks for the links. Should I assume your relationship with Petraeus is all subterfuge?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out…but keep in mind, I’ll be watched closely from now on, so I doubt I will be able to communicate with you again. Good luck sir, you are an inspiration to the rest of us.” She hung up.

Assange sighed. Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.