Monthly Archives: March 2012

Hate Speech Displayed Against Christians of Faith at Santorum Stop

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Hate speech displayed at Santorum stop

On Friday night I attended a campaign rally at Christian Liberty Academy

My wife dragged me there. She wanted to hear Rick Santorum speak. Naturally I, being the civilized loving husband that I am, went with her. We got there at 7 p.m. central time as the introductions were being made. If I were asked to estimate the size of the crowd in the gymnasium I would say it was close to 2,000 people. The people there seemed to be from all age groups and demographics that you would expect in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago. Actually we were in Arlington Heights.

The candidate began to speak to the crowd, and he displayed a charisma that I frankly never appreciated from the 10 second news bytes usually shown on TV. The crowd was engaged and clearly Christian.They brought their children and they listened.

Here was a Roman Catholic man speaking to an Evangelical audience.Yes, there were Catholics there; I am one. And, yes, there were Lutherans there; I recognized some.  All were there to hear a message of hope, traditional values and constitutional law. Santorum was masterful and even Reaganesque in his delivery of a hopeful message that America could return to civility, compromise, freedom of speech and religion – much in antithesis of the Obama message.

Then about half way through the speech the unexpected happened. In an auditorium filled with Christian people of faith and morals, two gay activists decided to put on a display of in-your-face gay behavior. They kissed and were booed and escorted out of the auditorium by security.  In the Daily Herald, an article by Tara Garcia Mathewson and Larissa Chinwah clearly stated that Ben Clifford and Tim Ross showed up at a Rick Santorum campaign stop to protest his politics.

What a neat way to excuse these two radicals from their hate crime and hate speech. They knew that the people in the audience would be offended by their silly, immature antics. These two men need to be called out for their deliberate hate speech against Christians of faith. They may have a right to free speech, but not premeditated hate speech.

What remains to be done in response to their deliberate attempt to injure the feelings of Christians of faith is to arrest them and subject them to the full penalty of the law.

Do not think for one minute that if these were Nazis confronting Jews in a similar way they would not be held accountable. Do not think that if these were Klansmen who were confronting blacks in this manner that it would be overlooked. So why I ask do we not classify gay radicals who display in public what most people keep secret as hate criminals? They can only be excused if they are found incompetent, uncivilized or moronic. I have a strong feeling that their confession to the Daily Herald journalists is clearly an admission of guilt.

When are we all going to get to the point where enough deliberate hate speech is enough? Perhaps we should ask the Obama administration.

Theodore Morrison Homa MD

Beware the Ides of March

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Finn McGee and Dan Gilmore were summoned to the Crime scene head quarters of the FBI in the physics building at Syracuse University.By cell phone they exchanged opinions as to the cause of such a meeting The reason they feared was a fault in the time warp created by McGee’s time machine and the appearance of an ancient knife. It wasn’t so much that the knife appeared, more as to where and what appeared. The knife a Roman dagger was covered with human blood. The blade was dripping with fresh human blood type O and the handle had more than a dozen sets of human prints on it. It would have been overlooked if it wasn’t suddenly found at a crime scene at Syracuse University in the physics laboratory that was still taped off one full year after the disappearance of Professor Frank Hayhurst.

Gilmore was the first to arrive at the scene. CIA and FBI agents were drooling with anticipation regarding the results of the DNA testing as Gilmore entered the room he was assailed by the investigation team almost all at once.

“What do you know about an ancient knife from the first century BC?” Gilmore in his usual reserved demeanor was calm and answered with a question. “How do you know the knife’s vintage?”

Becker still the CIA agent on the case snapped, “Carbon dating at the central lab and three experts on the nature of Roman Empire weaponry have identified this piece as from approximately 50 BC. The DNA Patterns are Mediterranean and not related to Frank Hayhurst .The blood is fresh and the knife carbon dates back 2050 years plus or minus 25.”

Gilmore, was guarded and protective of that which he knew, shook his head with amazement and pronounced, “I know you have subpoenaed Brother McGee, haven’t you?”

He did not have to wait for their answer as McGee himself crossed the threshold of his old lab ducking under the dusty yellow tape hung there over a year ago. “Hello gentlemen” Finn said cheerfully. How may I assist you?” simultaneously waiving his subpoena in the air at all the agents of the combined forces of FBI and CIA.

Becker stepped forward and asked, ”What do you have to tell us about this Roman Dagger?”

McGee smiled showing his famous dimples. “Relax gentlemen.” He replied I have everything under control, except the loose ends of what happens when something escapes my Time vortex.” He winked, “I still have not solved the problem of stray data and subjects that escape the time vortex.”

“Where have you been this time? Becker demanded.

“This is not my recent doing.” McGee announced “it’s from a moment last year when I was trapped in a runaway vortex.” I have kept my vow and have not traveled since surrendering the device to the government.”

“Then explain the bloody dagger?” demanded Becker as he had the assent of all the other investigators present.

“Ok if you wish, I am sure you will find it interesting.”  McGee went on with his usual confidence. “You see gentlemen I was privileged you might say, although I did not find it appealing, to be present for the assassination of Julius Caesar!” The time vortex paused and stalled on the feast of Annae Perennae in 44BC. Rome was therefore empty of the lower class citizenry, as would be a national holiday in America.”

The difference of course was that in Rome the Senate would meet on Holidays unlike in America where the senate and congress are always on Holiday. This was the day that the noble class (regime in power) decided to assassinate Julius Caesar.

They met at the portico of a theatre in a private area reserved for dignitaries. The numbers I counted were 12. There was a hush when GaiusJulius Caesar entered the room clad in laurel wreath and a white toga trimmed in gold and red. He stood short, muscular and proud as he beganto address the Senate. One of them approached from behind and thrust a knife into his shoulder making him fall to a knee. The others one by one took the same knife and each in turn stabbed Ceaser as he sunk to the marble floor..Finally, Brutus stood before the fallen dictator and took the knife holding it high. Caesar looked at him and uttered the famous line “Et tu, Brute” as the traitor plunged the dagger into Caesar’s heart.”

“In that space Caesar fell dead, before the statue of Pompey. A lament of a passing woman was heard by all. They were startled but frozen, unable to move,. The screaming woman ran to safety out of their reach.The knife tossed aside fell in my direction. just as the time vortex resumed its journey.”. McGee paused for effect he was getting used to there actions of some of the new investigators learning for the first time that time travel existed.

While the room buzzed with the clamor of excitement raised by the story, Finn McGee grabbed Gilmore’s arm and the two strolled out of the dark corridor into the sunlit day. Gilmore turned to his friend with concern, “When do you think this is going to stop Finn?.

“Certainly not until they let me fine tune my machine, Dan.” and then added with his dimpled smile “Until then my friend, only time will tell.”

 

 

Two Timing TSA

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Several times Danika lurked in the garage of her own Florida home – aimlessly, it seemed, to neighbors – checking inventory on the shelves of the electrician’s work room, sorting through various wires and small automatic switches, and trying to appear guiltless. She had urgency on her mind. She grabbed the device she was searching for and quickly shoved it into her pocket. The plan would only work if the timing was absolutely correct. No chance for error here.

She stared at the cell phone wishing it were ringing. But wishing could not set the ring tone off. She began to perspire, her hair wet on her neck in the humid Florida heat. This breeze on this final day was perfect for the plan. It had to work. She knew it would work and then “ring-ring” she pressed the answer button on her g5 iphone, and the text scrolled:

The package is ready. He thinks it’s missing. I left it on the bench on the porch of our rental. Hurry!

She texted back:

I am on my way and good bye dear friend.

Danika felt the thrill of the adventure. She took the maroon SUV with Nissan scripted in silver as the badge on the trunk lid. Peeling out on the drive way she looked at the dashboard clock. Twenty minutes was all she had. No one could be allowed to slow her down. She left the gates ajar, and her clock, 10:40, timeconfused dogs ran out and barked loudly at the sleepy Sunday morning neighborhood. Her husband, recently injured, limped down to the gate and closed it. Lighting his pipe with cherry blend, he paused and watched Danika race to the main road. He wondered what got under her skin. Briefly shaking his head he corralled the dogs behind the gate and read the morning paper.

Headlines in tall quarter page letters announced the departure of the candidate by commercial air line from the Fort Meyers airport on the 11:23 flight to Chicago. Danika stopped at the drop point only for a second. Unable to reach the red bag from the cockpit she quickly slid out the left front door, abrading her already swollen knee on the steering wheel. It oozed blood down her pretty leg and into her gym shoe. She was dressed to run if it was required. She managed to take the device and secretly attach it to the contents of the red bag.The only sound was a reassuring “click”.

The package needed delivery at all cost. Back in the car, not caring about the bleeding, she focused on the mission.

50 miles an hour to get to highway 75 west on Bonita Beach Road. Rushing two stop lights and cutting off an 18 wheeler taking the north entrance ramp, she was on the I-75 going north. The speed limit announced 70 mph as she passed it at 100. Few cars in her path worked their way to other lanes as the crescendo of her race speeded up by 5, 10, then 20 miles per hour. Down the center lane of I-75 north she prayed for no state troopers. The package, a red and beige beach purse, vibrated with the road on the passenger’s seat. Smoke came from her exhaust as she burned up the road. Squeals came from tires pushed to the edge of performance. She thought of the NASCAR race the day before.

Danica Patrick had crashed into a barrier, misjudging how close she could shave the wall and maintain speed. Her death grip on the wheel and the determination on her face gave evidence of the seriousness of completion of her mission.

“The Alico Road exit Airport” sign – almost missed in the shadows cast by the morning sun. The SUV screeched around the ramp at more than top speed. It came to a halt at a red light with three other cars. Danika took a breath, ran the light, and at close to dangerously high speed manipulated the SUV around traffic on the departure ramp. Coming to a skidding stop that turned everyone’s head, she saw the mark. Lifting the red bag up she tossed it out to the pretty blonde awaiting her at the curb. No time to chat or say mission accomplished or even fare well my friend, Danika accelerated away wanting no part of the final race. She knew she was getting too old for this. As she slowed down for a leisurely pace home she turned the SUV at a law abiding pace back onto the highway and thought to herself, “Damn, I’m good.” She then settled back to Billy Joel singing Piano Man on the stereo.

Kat, her partner in crime, now had the bag. It was critical to get it onto the plane.

This was the second time Kat had been through TSA that morning, the first with relative leisure. This time would be a challenge. She had her first class ticket in one hand and the red bag in the other.

Kat was a small woman in stature, but she had a knack for bullying her way through the toughest lines with her feminine wiles. This trip was critical. Her boss the Senator unaware of her mission would not board the plane without her. She only had 23 minutes to make it. She cajoled her way to the front of the line for first class, waving the ticket with her departure time in the faces of resistors. TSA, patdown, airport security, smuggle, contrabandShe had no control over the fates and sure enough was the lucky one to have everything short of a body cavity search by the TSA guards. She breathed a sigh of relief when the bag cleared the x-ray device but she was stopped by the TSA bureaucracy for an extra pat down. They made her take out her hair clip and shake her tresses out.

The guards were clearly suspicious that she had contraband. As she redressed and assembled her belongings she stared down an extra fresh man who seemed all too fascinated with her appearance. She fired a look at him that made him turn away in fright.

No time to put on her shoes, she grabbed the bag, her belt and the ticket and ran to D10. Sweat made her mascara run as she turned the corner and saw the Senator waiting. He smiled.

“Everything OK?” he said patiently.

“Yes, darling, it’s perfect.”

They boarded the first class cabin. Kat nonchalantly placed the red bag in the front closet closest to the pilot quarters. They seemed happy, not even nervous, as the plane revved its engines and climbed past 10,000 feet. The seat belt light went off and the stewardess smiled while taking their drink order. Shortly they clinked their vodka martinis as they sat in joyful expectation of their successful mission.

When the plane landed in Chicago the Senator almost begged, “Please come on with me to Minneapolis.”

“Not this trip, darling,” she responded, making excuses about family commitments.beach bag, purse, red bag, shoulder bag

She got up with the crowd that was deplaning and winked good-bye at the Senator as she turned and deliberately left her red bag in the closet.