Virgie Bell's View: Puzzles

What an inhumane thing to do to use two mentally retarded girls fitted out with bombs as the latest suicide bombers. The fact that it was a pet store makes it even more horrible. Customers looking for pets are the targets. What on earth is the matter with these monsters? Who among the victims was the threat? This, folks, is just about as bad as it gets.

There was a mother here in the USA who put her baby in a micro-wave oven, turned it on and walked out the door. A man here in my country kills his baby and dumps it beside the road. The face of evil is too good for them. How puzzling is the Leviathan that God mentions in the book of Job. It is the one thing in the Bible that has been kept a secret all though out the ages. But here it is, right before our eyes. Give it a name. I challenge you. You can't because it is unspeakable. We can see it and read of it but can't lay a name to it.

One of the reasons that I believe in heaven is that I do so fully believe in hell. I cannot believe that my dust will become a part of their dust. Regardless of what you believe about God, Jesus is an historical fact that cannot be dismissed. A fact is something that agrees with the evidences. The crucifixion really did happen. His blood poured out on the dust below the cross. Don't tell me his blood is mixed with that of the Leviathan. His blood contained DNA. That is his earthly presence and it is left here forever. Right here is the chemical equation that will stand forever unsolved, yet we all know the answer. When the atom was split, the negative power and the positive power were separated. The result or the summary, the answer if you will, is Hiroshima and Nagasaki. You cannot connect the dots, but you certainly can see the answer. You know what it is going to take to win the War on Terror. That is the power of God.

Leviathan is expressed in the cyclopedic index of my Bible as unknown god. Within scripture it is referred to as THE UNKNOWN GOD. The same, yet vastly different. I looked it up in the Greek and it is just that...god or God. Spell Check cannot find the error but you can see the error on this post. You can see it with your eyes. I think sometimes we really do come as a child and that is the only way we can. I know that the Bible is numerically correct but I cannot do the math. I do know that if it is the written word I can read it and understand it as a child. King of the Jews or KING OF THE JEWS. Spell check will correct the word jew to the correct Jew. Something written on the air and I can look at it today. For lack of a better term call it the truth or the facts, that which agrees with the evidence.

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Virgie Bell's View: THE Family Feud

Hollywood Great Thinker Hilary Swank: "After all even if we believe in a different God, inside, we all just want to be loved and to love."

I really wish I knew more and could come to some understanding of the crisis that exists in the Middle East. Anyone can go back to the very beginning of civilization and the same thing was always going on. The one thing most of us have learned is to not get embroiled in a family feud and make no mistake; this is exactly what this really is. These different countries have been at it for years and if the Bible is to be believed, it will remain so until the very end of time. I believe the books written by Herman Wouk are an absolute requirement to getting at least a little light shed on the whole situation. Many people refuse to read fiction at all. I have an aunt who feels it a waste of time and I disagree with her assessment.

All things written are just someone else's view and that view belongs to the writer of non-fiction as well. History is just a personal opinion which is recorded. Had the USA lost in World War 2, trust me; English would not be the official language in my country. I would not have been reading books by a Jewish author and I certainly would not be recommending them to others. I would be joining the rest of the world in Jew-bashing. If however, one maintains that the Bible is truly the Word of God, one might be more than a little hesitant to engage in such a practice. Israel is the Promised Land, and as such, it comes complete with a destiny, a beginning, an end.

I can't keep from hitting on my Hollywood Knuckle Heads and the instant wisdom gained with receiving an Academy Award. Hilary Swank is the latest bubble head to be popping-off on something she knows absolutely nothing about, but this does not keep her from becoming an expert on the Middle East dilemma. In a few words, she solves the whole situation, one that has not had any solution in the recorded past or foreseeable future. I refer to her quote: "After all even if we believe in a different God, inside, we all just want to be loved and to love." I think it would be a really good idea for these Hollywood Pin Heads to stay far away from such a statement. How quaint, how incredibly stupid, and why am I even wasting time reviewing anything Ms. Swank has to say about any subject whatsoever. Perhaps it is because I can now relate to ditsy dames who love attention. Dames like Nancy Pelosi. I would like to set the record straight to all of the rest of the world: Ms. Swank, Ms. Pelosi, Ms. Streisand, and even Mr. Streisand, do not represent the view of the American Woman, much less the fact that there is no Different God. If she really believes that little statement, she needs to take it to that tall bearded Taliban Leader hiding in a cave somewhere along the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan. Convince him.... If you come away with your head intact, then I will listen. Until then, I will forever be amazed that all of mankind though out history has failed to grasp this little concept, but then, what else is new? Different Gods? Bite your tongue.

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Virgie Bell's View: Silent is the Season...except for Hill....

"Old Thunder Thighs," and Why She Has Them Hillary "Thunder Thighs" makes the Menu Special at KFC

It’s not surprising that Hillary is not doing well in New Hampshire and Iowa. They have had the privilege of her up close and personal and she can’t pass the test. Old thunder thighs could be accepted except for the Old Wicked Witch of the West Cackle, which is utterly chilling. You almost expect her to wring her hands and say, "And now my Little Pretty"....If Bubba can't pull it off for her, she can't do it. She actually has no real experience except as First Lady, and this of course puts a whole new meaning to... first... if you get my drift.

I asked my sister yesterday who was her choice. She is the only Democrat beloved by me and we had a hard time coming up with a good one. We decided we are for whoever is not so stupid that they call death by lethal injection cruel and unusual punishment. We are both getting on in years and wishing God would see fit to give us the old injection of falling asleep and just never waking up. We both agreed that John Cooey would have missed that little stick in the arm if he had messed with us. No, he would have been buried alive after a good old beating. Some of the stuff that passes for politics and rights are just too stupid for words.It is a good thing our parents have passed on at this time for they would have no doubt been in jail if someone told them how to raise us kids. Looking back at my family, I fail to see where they were wrong. Trust me; these parents knew how to maintain discipline, and they learned this from their parents.

I realize that I have been letting my fans down by not mentioning “Darling Britney.” The mother of the year has been named to star in NOW GET THIS...as Mary in the movie or play titled Sweet Baby Jesus. I can think of a hundred who would have been a better choice, but this is a French production, and as we all know, everyone loves every moment of the year in Paris, and even Britney is loved by them. And of course, she will help the wine industry and the ever important bottom line. I’m getting ready for some eggnog. Not the kind with liquor in it. Just the store bought stuff will do. De'on and I don't do the hard stuff and we really don't like to see anyone else having a better time than we have.

As for the season of Christmas, I noticed yesterday we are still fighting over the Christmas displays in the bigger cities. I am so glad I was raised in an earlier time. No one even thought anything about wishing someone a Merry Christmas. Now you just as well call someone a SOB, which I find terribly, terribly sad. I saw the big sign outside the Junior College nearest us and it said, Bright Holidays. I feel that we have lost so much with all of this political correctness.

I took the test on AOL to see how I would do on the lyrics and felt I would ace that test at least. Well I got five and five. It seems that Silent Night and the Bethlehem songs do not even merit being listed. They are: Rocking ‘Round the Christmas Tree, Rudolph, and Santa. The real purpose has been left out. I sang all my life and was just a small child within a large choir in California when I learned the word to all of the old songs. I was right there when Bing Crosby sang White Christmas. I like all of the other Christmas songs but I cherish Silent Night and Little Town of Bethlehem. We had a full orchestra there too.... Of everything, I really miss the music of this season. It is the saddest time of the year to be hearing impaired.

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Virgie Bell's View: Ever Higher

It is not surprising to me that I had never heard of the top twenty “protest songs that matter" as featured on AOL. I had heard about three or four of the singers or protesters or whatever they wish to be called. Having raised my children right in the midst of the Hippie Movement, you would think I would be more up to date on such things, but alas, it just is not so. De'on, of course, was the hippy personified, and it wore me completely out. Years later I asked her just what all the protest thingy was about and I was serious in wanting to know. Her reply was something on the order of "Mom, I didn't know or even care, I just wanted to say things like Peace, Make Love Not War, and be with the in-crowd." I am so glad this movement did not take place during my cool years at Amherst Texas. It would have made my life absolutely intolerable, because no matter what else happened, it would have not thrived in the home where I was raised.

I have to laugh to even consider my dad's reaction to those kinds of things. As to the top 20 protest songs, I have to admit that it is stupid to even think that these so called artists even know what they are talking about as far as protesting anything. If the ultimate hippie (De'on) who was under the roof of the ultimate conformer (Me), then it is a pretty safe bet that an on stage protester doesn’t know crap from crapola as far as world affairs and politics. I have always had my nose in a book and thrived pretty much into the Father Knows Best culture. I have always loved America, loved the Jewish race and the state of Israel. I loved going to the movies and watching westerns like the Magnificent Seven. War Movies, yeah, loved the good guys, our US military, and I was always a Democrat of the Yellow Dog variety. Whatever else I am or have ever been; I have been one of those who could be considered “Informed.” As I have said in the past, this was most probably because we lived in a suburb of Los Angeles during World War 2. Like most families that were involved in the war effort (which included every good American), God and country and family values were the most important thing we honored as a nation. It was the soundtrack that enveloped my existence. Somewhere over the rainbow was a belief to me. It did exist, as the song suggests, way up high...and, oh, how I did believe in the Way up High.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a dreamer. I am also a former dancer, singer, hoe-hand, and cheerleader. Drama just seems to ooze out of my pores. I was a freshman when I was the soprano soloist for the choir at Amherst High School and even sang on the television station from Lubbock at that time. The Lords Prayer was the song and not many can sing it. So we have here a person that kind of gets into the talent scope of things. It sickens me that the performers pass themselves off as the intelligent source to seek. And to set the music of the soundtrack of my life in the present state we live in. I loved Louie Armstrong and I adored Nat King Cole. I loved to dance close to a good partner to Unforgettable. My eyes closed and oozing drama. I loathed James Brown. I considered him just about the ugliest man I ever saw until I saw Arafat. The Godfather of Soul set the standard for ugly men for me. You can understand my dismay that this glorified stage hand ran for president of our country. That old whiz Al Sharpton would have gotten at least one vote in this extended family. Go figure.

My world did not have protesters. No, my world consisted of warriors and beautiful women who loved them and were loved by them in return. Drama? Yes. No voice before or any since will ever be more beautiful than Nat King Cole’s Unforgettable. Absolutely. His voice would have foretold me of the land that I heard of once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue.... My eyes were always closed, dancing by myself with search lights in the sky over Los Angeles, or later, held close in the arms of that good dancer in Clovis NM, reminding me that yes…. The dreams I dreamed of really do come true. Some day I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind, where troubles melt like lemon drops away up on the chimney tops…that's where you'll find me. Somewhere over a rainbow blue birds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow, why then oh why can't I?

Top protest songs that matter to me? You have got to be kidding.

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Virgie Bell's View: An object lesson

De'on brought something to my attention yesterday that I feel needs to be addressed. She asked my why I kept trying to find someone on the Democratic ticket that I liked or approved of. Was I going to vote for one? I can honestly say with the pitiful uninspiring lot that is running it is absolutely out of the question. Here is the situation I find myself in and why I do try to find something to like. Since this is an interesting time for football fans I think I can explain in this way.

Now I am a Dallas Cowboy Fan. No two ways about it. I have always been. I would not have missed a game when Tom Landry was the coach and Roger Staubach was the quarterback. I was over the rainbow for that team and rejoiced when they won a game. As I have said in politics, it’s the small things that impressed me as far as what the list of celebrities do or don't do. I can close my eyes and picture Tom Landry on the sidelines with arms crossed and dignity in place. He wore a suit tailored to perfection and a hat the men of America came to copy. Landry remained poised and coolly collected no matter the score. He was a handsome man that portrayed great dignity. Slim, trim, and in control ... the top gun for my favorite team. Roger Staubach was here in Lovington and was the speaker for Christian Professional Athletes. I was much younger then and at the time was not as jaded as I now seem to be. Mr. Staubach impressed that it was playing by the rules of life on a Christian field that was the real Super Bowl in life. That sometime in an eternity I could look for the Trophy of the greatest and most important goal of my existence. No one can prove that God does not exist nor can they disprove the existence of God. It is therefore up to each individual to see what side they come down on.

I believe with all my heart that the Holy Bible is the Word of God. I have never found any inconsistency or errors in the Bible. I have come to many things that I have not understood, but was later able to grasp and it had a profound effect on me. I am scared to death not to believe. If I reach the end game and there is no trophy, I have not lost a single thing. I took my last breath with a hope. I want to die in my sleep with some thought to the Word of God just before I turn out the light. On the other hand, if I go out as unbeliever and the trophy is there, then the horror of it all does not bear thinking about. But my understanding of God is just that, my understanding. It is right there with the respect I have for my husband, loving and redeeming and very protective. Private and precious. Something to guard with your life. Jerry can't bring home the biggest pay check because of some big business deal he was able to pull off, but I can look forward to getting bills paid and a home that is free of debt, something that it takes all of our spare time to see to the upkeep. I can truly say I have everything I want. It may not be a Super Bowl. Not the finest and costliest, but my team won the game. Satisfied is the greatest emotion that a human being can have.

I did not watch the Cowboys for years and years. There was a time in my life that I had to put aside the energy that goes into a real sports fan. Jerry likes it and always has. My life is like every other person. That is a home school. Looking back, it has always been so. I told De'on that it was the little things with the candidates that stuck with me and what I know to be true. The example I used with her was the Washington figure John Murtha. When he accused my nation’s military of murdering innocent women and children in cold blood, he spit in my face. How dare you? How dare you? Recently the speech has changed. He said that our military was so stressed that they killed innocent women and children. Shut up you sanctimonious old fool. You are a nothing. A scum; blight on humanity. He still has his first wife and donates big bucks to the Opera; he admitted it with his little evil laugh. For the little woman you might say. The Alpha Male Murtha, oh yeah, and he served in the military. So what! Poor woman, thinks I, when I think of your wife, stuck with the likes of you.

Then there is the other Alpha Male. The Rudy Giuliani. Record is three marriages and a trophy wife. I watched this man in action during 9/11. He became America's Mayor. The Worlds Mayor and Times Man of the Year. He won me that day. On 9/11 he put his trophy wife right beside him and went on to complete his job as a great hero of mine. Oh, he is flawed and maybe he is greatly flawed, but he is still my hero. You see, my team has to win the Super Bowl this time. We have to do so or we are really in trouble. We are facing more deadly enemies than any enemy we have ever had in the history of America. I have chosen for my vote to go to the man that I feel will lay down his life for my freedom. Who will die to protect my freedom? My vote is his. The greatest gift I can give to the cause I hold dear to my heart. A man that knows how to lead and knows how to kick butt and love a woman in a May-December love. The man, who much like Tom Landry, stood in cool complete control at all times, no matter the score.

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Virgie Bell's View: Waging War

What a wonderful way to start the day by having Osama Bin Laden to give us a nice little speech about the merits of not being guilty of killing innocent people. I alone am guilty of the attacks of 9/11 and the poor people that are in Afghanistan are being punished because of my singular deed. Takes me back to that day and remembering the kindness Bin Laden showed in New York, in Washington DC, and in Pennsylvania, and I would like to remind anyone who reads this that it was not the leader of the terrorists that was on that plane.

Now Bin Laden (of course) has the great majority of those brilliant Hollywood Liberals right in there standing behind him in calling the USA evil for starting an unlawful war. No one in Washington DC authorized such a war they say. Gush, gush, blink, blink. And we have got to put a stop to it so that we can concentrate on making everyone in America learn to speak Spanish, Italian, and Swahili as the case may be. (Aside to the camera she hisses—“leg shot please!”)

Being that I am just another dumb white English female voter and have no access to all the information that you and those like you and Harry Reid seem to be privileged to, I feel the only thing I have to judge the truth for myself is what I saw that day. Everyone will remember the Twin Towers and the planes crashing into them. We can recall those jumping out the windows while others remained behind to die in the flaming inferno. I remember the Pentagon and the attack there too. But there was no camera there to focus my attention to the plane that was brought down in a lonely field by the first Americans turned warriors, who saved thousands of lives and did not live to tell the tale. They died so that other warriors could fight on. They took two of Bin Laden's warriors with them and conquered the battle. Won that but the score was 0 to 0. Nonetheless, it was a significant win for us. It again awakened the Sleeping Giant.

When I viewed the devastation in that lonely field, the empty sky over Manhattan where the towers had once stood and the chunk out of the Pentagon, it never occurred to me that we had a war going. I knew about the USS Cole, the bombing of the Marine Barracks, and the first attack on the Twin Towers. I looked to the leader of my country to see how I was supposed to react. Remember, it was still a while before the Ward Churchill’s could remark that we had it coming. Those little Eichmanns had it coming says he. Well the man I voted for and the one I looked to for protection showed a stern face and sent a few bombs somewhere into places like that lonely field. Got it taken care of thought I... and went right on with my life. My leader was in charge and I felt safe again.

Now, as to this illegal war we are waging, I would like to say I don't need a vote from Washington DC or the reasoning behind the Ward Churchills that "we deserve it." I say shut up you poor misguided fools. This was an attack on my country against my fellow countrymen on that day. The day known forever as 9/11. As FDR said before, "a day that lives in infamy." Now sugar coat and intellectualize all you want. My heart went into winning a war that was declared on us. My beloved grandson gave his life’s blood for that cause. Shut up Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, Sean Penn...etc. etc. etc. You have no right to withhold anything from our troops. They should be served champagne and caviar on a daily basis. They deserve everything and then some while you whine and narrate and worry about the next pork project for your district.

Votes, votes, votes. It seems my country is all about votes. I do remember one leader that day going from one tragic scene to another. A man with prostrate cancer and courage to spare in his cajones. I don't care if he had a girlfriend at that time. He was separated and as the saying goes...been there, done that, but he became the Alpha Male to me. I have checked him out thoroughly and admire him even more. He has a record that no one can beat, but I saw him that day, I saw him hold a terrified nation together, and I came to another realization. Giuliani is the man, the G Man, and he has a personal score to settle with Osama bin Laden. So do I.

If you harbor the enemy, if you feed the enemy, you are the enemy. The war on terror is waged within the heart of mankind.

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Virgie Bell's View: Life in the Oceanbed

When I went to bed last night I had made up my mind that some of my posts needed to be a little chipper, upbeat, something to bring fun and lightness into this holiday season. Today I got my newspapers and watched the news and I have changed my mind. You know the little speech, “I did not have sex with that woman, that Ms. Lewinsky." Of course you remember. This was under oath. You know when you put your hand on the Bible and swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, so help you God. Lying under oath is a serious charge. It is called perjury and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison. At least it is in the real world, but not in the Land of Oz where Bill Clinton resides.

It is very troubling to me that today it seems that he is making no bones about who he wants in the White House. He wants in it. He has found a way to hold us in some kind of grip, the same as Hugo Chavez of Venezuela. No term limits. President for life and we are stuck with this fact. Those of you who know me also know that I have an incredible memory and that I have been tuned into the political scene for years. In fact, it could be said that “I need to get a life” which might be right, but at the present time I feel as though it would be the same as Nero playing the fiddle while watching Rome burn. Why keep up with world affairs and not take a stand to be a voice for what you really believe?

Today the President for life is on the soap box saying that he was against this war from the beginning. He lies. I heard him say that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction and would use them. I heard him say that he spent much worry and agony trying to figure out what to do about Osama Ben Laden. I heard him say that he obsessed about how to get hold of OBL when in truth he was obsessed about a little intern. If she had not saved that little dress from The Gap, he would have gotten by one more time with lying.

I really don't care about his personal life. If Hillary is so proud of him I am just tickled to death for her. If she doesn't mind him flitting from one little escapade to the next then why should I. To be honest I really don't. Glad she has him and I don't. Bill Clinton is supposed to be smart. I find him slick and oily. I find him completely shameless. When he was finally caught red-handed, he called on Jesse Jackson to come to the White House and pray for him and counsel him. What a joke. Old Jesse had another woman knocked up at the same time. How can they keep a straight face is beyond me. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson have done more to hurt the liberal cause and the Democratic Party than anyone. I want Jesse the Reverend Jackson to keep his promise to the one who lied about the Duke University Lacrosse member and the rape charges. I want him to send her to college and to pay for it. I think that he needs to do that in order to rescue her from going to homes and stripping for a living. Yeah, right.

You see where this post is headed? It’s about an under-seedy world. O.J. Simpson resides in this underworld. There is nothing clean and wholesome in the whole cast of lewd people. Nothing and no one to look up to. My life demands that people keep the rules. If it says “No Parking Here”, then you do not park there, unless you’re Obama, the one who owed $300 in parking tickets. It is a little law and an easy law to keep. That sign is there for a purpose. It is to provide access to emergency personnel or to provide a closer access for a handicapped person. Not for some hot shot attorney to have a private parking place with no regard for our rules in the ordinary world. He said "It is no big deal.” I say that is a lie. When I see and hear these kinds of lies, lies so unnecessary, so completely unnecessary, I feel outrage. De'on might wish to do a post sometime about when I caught her with a road sign warning on her wall in her bedroom. Believe me she never did it again. If I, in my ignorance, in my humble and uneventful world, if I can follow the simple things, then these fat cat Washington thugs can do the same. I hate all the lying about all of this. I know this is all just so petty. That is what I find the saddest thing of all.

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Virgie Bell's View: Records

Just about the time I get it in my head to not renew my subscription to TIME, along comes an article which I feel has some redeeming qualities. Joe Klein is a member of the Democratic Party and quite the spokesman for that point of view. His article which I read yesterday was very interesting to me. He wrote concerning his take on what he considers to be the mistakes that his party of choice is making in regard to the debates that are going on and on and on.

First of all I would like to get one thing correct as far as those running on the ticket. The claim that there is one Hispanic and one black candidate is false. It is more like half Hispanic and half black. Mr. Richardson is married to an Anglo and Mr. Obama is married to a black. It seems that it is the choice of each of these two as to which group they identify themselves with and which audience they are speaking to at the moment. Those moments of "I understand your pain." Here is a clue to the message and they gave themselves away during the last debate. Governor Richardson said that he felt that human rights were more important than national security. OH? The senator from Illinois, Barack Obama, was of the opinion that the concepts were not contradictory, but complimentary. SAY WHAT?

Now if we thought politics was mean and ugly before now, well, then get ready because it is going to get really mean and nasty. Chris Dodd opined that national security trumps it all and Hillary agrees. At least for the day. Mr. Kline stated that if his party did not get serious on National Security there would not be a Democrat taking over the White House. He also said that Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi were doing the party no favors as they tried to hide and protect those who are illegal, or are in touch with cells tied to Al Qaeda. That all people who receive phone calls and e-mails from or to questionable sources be forever erased. This is beyond stupid. I do not want any politician in any office who has this kind of thinking. Of course National Security trumps everything else, except it does not buy a lot of votes. No, we people in America just assume that we will be safe.

As I have said before, my life was a colorful one as a child growing up in the suburbs of Los Angeles close to the great shipping port there during WW2. Everywhere I looked there was the military in all the different uniforms from all the different branches. To my way of thinking, it was pretty great fun. I got to have my picture made in different hats. I got to meet relatives that I did not know existed, to be picked up and swung up in the air by all these heroes. I didn't understand war. I just accepted freedom as my due. There were signs everywhere that had Uncle Sam with his finger in front of his mouth doing Shush...LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS. This was taken very seriously by the adults in my world. These people knew how hard freedom had been to come by. They all had friends and family who had shed blood for my privilege of thinking security and freedom were my due. Every friend and playmate that I had either had someone missing in action, captured and held in prisoner of war camps, or had someone of their own who had paid the ultimate sacrifice. Someone that had given their life my sake. The women were working the factories, welding, working at whatever had to be done. We school children did scrap metal drives and paper drives. We made posters that supported our fighting forces. We literally pulled together and won when everything was against us. WE PULLED TOGETHER.

Now in the weeks and months ahead please keep in mind that the only thing any politician is interested in is winning. Try as best you can to go by the past action of each candidate. If there is no record that is because there is none. During the holidays we will hear much about which candidate is best. But a record is a document that is proof. What is Hillary’s record? Or Obama’s...Richardson’s...or Chris Dodd’s? What do you remember most about them? Be honest with yourself, just as if your life depended on it and for the record here, please note that Obama has no record. He attends meetings and hearings and marks his vote as PRESENT. OH? Now Oprah is going to campaign for him.

I have never understood this nation’s captivation with Ms. Winfrey. When you get right down to it, she is very much like Jerry Springer in her exploitation of other people or just getting her point across, her view as she weaves her spell to suit her own preconceived take on life. She is a master at manipulation and she is very savvy as far as her career is concerned. It should be interesting. She needs to know that beforehand she will lose 50% of her audience. I have never paid any attention to her book club. I don't need to have someone to tell me what I need to read. Do you know how controlling that one thing is? First thing that is controlled in a prewar country is burn the books, make up your own books and feed them to the masses.

Now we must not leave out the Republican candidates. Fred Thompson, what is his record or Mitt Romney’s or Ron Paul’s. Right. Ron Paul is our version of Dennis Kuchini.... Seems we always have these to remind us that there are truly some idiots that run and not only the rich. For that matter, what about Rudy Giuliani? What about his record? Yeah, what about his record….

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Virgie Bell's View: Between us and the shadows

There are eight states in the United States who give drivers licenses to illegals. I find it more than a little unsettling. I recall at the time of 2003 when this law went into effect, the illegal immigration thing was not all that important. We knew it was a problem, but then again, to some segments within a society, it is an advantage. To the political fat cats it is a huge advantage. We have all become accustomed to showing our drivers license as a means of identification when giving a check as payment for a transaction. If it bounces, they want to know where to find you and make sure you pay that amount that you in effect still owe. No one carries a birth certificate around. The excuse has been given that it is so we can make sure a person has insurance or will not flee the scene of an accident, but this is nothing more than a smoke screen.

Now I have nothing whatsoever about someone being poor. I have lived a life of feast or famine myself. Fat bank accounts and huge assets are not readily identified with me. I was a child when I lived at Hanover Atomic Energy Facility. We had a movie theatre, a grocery store, one half day of school and barbed wire all around. I became used to the military right there. In row after row of little trailer houses, I learned what is really important in life: shade. An awning. In the middle of a desert with no trees, barbed wire keeping you in and others out, no matter how much you tried, you still felt confined. This was part of the Manhattan Project, the making of the atomic bomb that brought World War 2 to a close. It took two flights and two bombs.

In this internment camp and rest assured that’s just what it was, far away from anything, soldiers wearing bands, carrying rifles, walked to and fro in front of a military barracks. This encampment was guarded in the same manner as the Tomb of the Unknowns. Back and forth, back and forth day and night. Life got down to basics and little children learned to set in the meager shade in the dirt by a small trailer house. Mom and Dad had the bed. Our bed folded down into a table and Mickey and Bennie slept at the head and I slept at the foot. Everybody did that in the camp. Of course, no matter the neighborhood, the Joneses were still keeping up with the Joneses. At Hanford you could still envy the Joneses. At least I did. I envied the little Jones girl who had the biggest shade of all. It was a neighborhood filled with children and very few old people. They were at home helping to take care of things like planting victory gardens or knitting scarves for our military. I literally grew up a military brat around other military brats. Shipping ports were all around me. I was used to those soldiers walking back and forth...back and forth ...day and night. Our dads were the ones who welded the ships, kept an eye on the homefolks and learned to keep their mouths shut. I witnessed war first hand through the eyes of those who were left behind. I know how hard it was on us, but above everything, I remember the laughter in that particular slice of history. I learned early in life that our military was all that stood between us and the nations who would destroy us. I am ashamed of those who do not support our military now. As I said, I wasn't in Vietnam, didn't know a lot about it, but there was never a time that I did not support our troops. I know what it was to live behind barbed wire in a secret place within a secret society.

We are selling ourselves out with this driver’s license business. Giving identification to illegal immigrants is giving our shade away. A pleasant little patch of grass with a little shade. A place to safely grow old. A big block of votes is all that matters anymore. Politicians are just what they are. They must win the office no matter what, even when they have to sell out our military, those fighting for our freedom, going back and forth, back and forth, day and night, all over the world ... back and forth day and night.

SUPPORT THE TROOPS!

Virgie Bell's View: "Thank You"

I enjoyed reading the post by Mr. Keen about accepting our vulnerability and agree with what he expresses so eloquently. It is never more apparent in life as when we reach the “last down of our life with goal to go”. When we need the touchdown to win and yet we are forced to settle for the field goal. Acceptance of our limitations is perhaps the most valuable lesson we can learn in this life on earth. My daughter laughingly remarked to me one day that her daughter-in-law didn't recognize a picture of me when I was a "Looker" and that the picture was not really even that old, as far as my past really goes back.

If I got to choose my life to live at any certain point in time, I just don't know what period would be my choice. Each period held its winning the game or getting sacked, the big slaps on the backs or setting there a complete loser. I write a lot about the Hollywood set. I grew up around that atmosphere as a child in Los Angeles during World War 2 and the Silver Screen was a routine part of my youth, as it was most everyone’s, but in that place, at that time, the war was an even bigger issue. The serial newsreel gave a report each week of the battles won or lost on foreign soil. At such a tender age I never realized that my entire life was up for grabs. Gosh for me, just waiting for Christmas was an eternity. The thought that I might not ever celebrate another Christmas was beyond comprehension. The adults in my life had the good sense to protect me from something so very near and yet so very very far away—with an ocean between us. I remember the shortages, I remember the sacrifices made by so many to ensure the dreams of one little girl that a Christmas to come was still a reality.

If I could only thank God for just one gift or talent, it would be that God made me a reader. I have been everywhere and done everything, from watching Sally run and seeing Spot jump to translating from Hebrew when the sons God looked upon the daughters of men, went into them, giving birth to a race that I cannot comprehend or understand, but I am fully aware of the fact they walk among us. I have been able to translate in Greek to read about the sacrifice on the cross and the statement "It is finished.” But it is a fact that when I was twelve years old, I accepted something as the most important event in my life. Something that I can read in Hebrew, and Greek, and English, yet I am still like John trying to express whether this is in the body or out, I cannot know. But I do know that at this point in my life that goal post is looming ahead and just seconds to go. I am glad that it was finished long ago. The last page on the final chapter, but still, there is the Epilogue. The looking back and pulling all the chapters together to come to an understanding of what it was all about. Why sometimes we do not all live happily ever after. And the acceptance that there is comfort in that knowledge gained. Agree or disagree... it is done. Period. But as in any literature I can still turn to the acknowledgments and give credit for help and assistance given. To claim all mistakes as my own, etc.

When I was a little girl in California, living in the midst of one of the biggest cities in the United States, I didn’t forget where I’d been born and raised, in a small town known as Amherst, Texas. In that small city in West Texas, just a few years before me, there was another person from that same little country town who had played a major role in my life. He was a farm boy, raised in a farming community and probably looking forward to a future that included the most beautiful wife in the world. Why shouldn't he? I found out that he was a looker. A handsome boy. A good kid. On December 7th in 1941 his country was attacked by an unknown foreign enemy. He, like millions of others rushed to the call of their country. Charles L. Moore was but a lad in whom my life was so intertwined, (sometimes we can never know just how much are lives are).We had all but lost the war until the Battle of Midway. Pearl Harbor had left the sleeping giant a cripple and it was nearly to the point that I would never see another Christmas. Charles Lee Moore was a radio gunner on a torpedo plane. The mission was for these planes to divert the enemy in order to give the dive bombers a chance to attack the enemy. The U.S.S. Yorktown was such a plane. The only chance they had was to go against hopeless odds and furnish the extra ounce that was required to turn this battle around. This was the conscious decision to give their lives for a cause that would never be part of their future.

There have been countless of our brave military that have given and will give up their lives for me, for us, for our country. But this past year I read about this one, the Amherst boy, the handsome, good boy. The one who had the beautiful wife waiting right there at stage right, when the script calls for him to Exit Stage Left … forever. When Charlie was the most vulnerable, he chose to give his life for me, for you, for his country. I feel the holiday season in the air and I know that once again I will have a chance to celebrate another Christmas. I would like to thank all of our military who are fighting for my right to have Christmas. For the chance to see Santa through the eyes of a great grandson. Greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for a friend. Thank you, Charles Lee Moore. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. From one more Amherst girl who must admire you from afar, read of you only in a book, while you rest within a watery grave. There was nothing to send home but a victory.

PLEASE. SUPPORT THE TROOPS!