Sunday, January 25, 2004



There are times when History makes mistakes. It is often colored by Governments, and lies are disguised as truths. Truths may become lies. I'm writing this down so that the World can know the truth.

Back in the late 50s they got Politics and Show Business all mixed up. (But then, they're still getting it all screwed up, especially since part of Hollywood doesn't know whether it is in Politics or Show Business even today.) But I'm getting ahead of my story. In the era I'm talking about there were these two guys in Havana, one named Fidel and the other named Che. Just their names along tell you that it was a perfect act. But, even if it had been reversed and called Che and Fidel, what-ever, it sounded good. The main thing is that they were each tryng to break into show business when they first met and they decided to join forces and make it into an Act.

At the time they were living in Havana, and occupying two seedy little rooms adjoining one another, a real flea-bag of a place above a bar with a broken-tiled floor, the usual type you found in one of those alleys lined with houses full of prostitutes near the waterfront. Their rooms were three flights up, stinkin' from a long history of drunks' vomit in the rooms and piss in the hallways. Che, at the time, was patterning his act after Stan Hardy, but he couldn't afford a real hat and so he swiped a beret from a drunken artist living on the second floor. He strutted around looking in the mirror (broken, like the tile floor downstairs), and tried mincing steps, big steps, gigantic steps, tripping steps, but nothing seemed to work right. He even tried a soft-shoe routine, but he couldn't seem to get the steps right and he kept dropping the cane when he attempted to twirl it around.

In the next room Fidel was growing a beard, but the fleas had gotten in it and were driving him nuts. He kept combing it, trying to get the eggs off the hairs on his chin, but then he'd find more.

After they discovered one another and finding that each wanted a career in Show Business, they decided to put their act together, but they needed something to make them stand out from other acts. Fidel got the idea of the uniforms when he recalled a Military Surplus Store he used to frequent when he went to college in the U.S. He thought that that'd be a kick, a big man and a little pipsqueak in soldier's fatiques or even camoflage suits, yep, that was it! Che laughed and suggested adding a big cigar, like Milton Berle, and then he strutted back and forth in front of that cracked mirror, blowing great clouds of smoke into the air. Well, that covered up the smell of vomit anyway.

He gave a cigar to Fidel and Castro, noticing how it covered the stench in the air in the room, kept one lit all day long after that. Now when Che pissed in the hall again, because he hated to walk down three floors to the toilet, he wouldn't smell it. Che was just a little piss-ant from Argentina, Fidel thought, but since he needed him in the act, he ignored his poor manners. Che had come from one of those dirt houses down on the Argentine Pampas. so Fidel tolerated the situation as best he could.

They practiced their routine for hours every day for a few weeks, and then went downstairs one afternoon, pushed some tables and chairs aside, and practiced their act in front of the drunks, the whores, some seamen from the ships in the harbor, a few venturesome tourists, and the lottery ticket sellers coming in off the street. Everyone thought that the act was a good one, well, at least those who were half-tanked up did. Che strutted around, cracking jokes, puffing smoke like the stacks of a Honduran banana boat, while Fidel crushed fleas between his thumbnails in between his lines. Che had the best lines, Fidel was sort of his foil, big, dim-witted, and using a high-pitched voice. Che strutted and had them all laughing at Fidel. Truth be told, that's exactly why Fidel hated Che, and vowed to get even with him, why he eventually sent him to Argentina and informed the government there about it, and eventually giving them the fatal tip-off about how to capture him.

They even had a sign made up, FIDEL & CHE, and hung it on the wall. It's still there, and it's venerated even today, as any Holy Shrine would be.

They were doing pretty good and thinking that maybe one day they'd get an agent and try to make it to Broadway in New York, and now even those who weren't too drunk were beginning to get their humor. Things were going pretty good for them and the owner of the bar was paying them a salary. It was still a third floor salary, and they could not afford to move down to the Palm Springs section of the hotel on the second floor, or the rooms behind the bar, but it was a living.

Robert Redford, taking a Hippie-tour of the Carribbean, stopped by and caught the act. He even bought them a couple of beers and told them that they looked like real revolutionaries to him. Fidel strummed the guitar and sang a few songs for him, and Costner never forgot that. Fidel never forgot either, because Kevin did not leave a tip.

Well, Fidel and Che were thinking about regular army when they got the uniform outfit, but Costner had now implanted a seed! Would the act be any better if they tried being revolutionaries? (That's the mistake that got Fidel into trouble and prison as well, but that comes later).

Chapter II. Jan. 26, 2004

Everything was going pretty well. He bought a chamber-pot for Che, which helped keep the hallway between their rooms cleaner , but Che almost got arrested when he emptied it from the third floor window one night. The whores were giving them a discount. The tourists were buying them a beer now and then, and even a rum and coke here and there, and the owner had even sent a woman up to wash the windows of their rooms and change the sheets, neither which had been done for 14 months.

Well, as I said, things were going pretty well for the Act, and they'd probably have made a film or two in Hollywood by now, what with the camoflage suits and all, perhaps even with Jane Fonda, but then all of a sudden they took a turn for the worse.

Word had spread all over Cuba about these two great comics, the one looking a little pimpish in his beret and the other one with the scraggly beard, and life seemed good. Good, that is until one night El General, Juan Batista came in to hear them. One of the Captains in the military had reported that these two comics were cracking jokes about him, and Batista and a few of his Mafia friends from New York strolled in on them. Both Che and Fidel, half tanked by that tine of the evening, went ahead with their regular act and used a few of their revolutionary jokes. That's when things turned sour.

Batista got this Wally Beery type of scowl on his face, and having had six straight shots of rum, he even stood up wavering like Wally playing the part of a drunken sailer, waving his hand and glass in the air. It brought down the house! Everyone roared, even the guys in the $600 suits sitting at his table.

In those days, no one laughed at the great Juan, and pretty soon guys in real uniforms were all over the place, in spite of the cracked tile floors. The whores ran screaming out the door and Che bailed out with them. Fidel babbled incoherently to the Captain, but they stuffed him in a station wagon and ran him down to the Army Barracks. They sentenced him to ten years as a revolutionary and put him in a special barracks. He had lucked out, because Batista had been so drunk that he didn't really remember what Fidel and Che had done. He was therefore inclined to be lenient. The Chicago Wise Guys with him only spoke Italian, so they missed it. All they knew was that Che and Fidel were funny looking with those big cigars, especially the skinny little one, Che.


The Trial wasn't very long; three witnesses to say that Fidel and Che had made jokes about the Hon. Presidente, Juan Batista, and ruling out any defense, the Judge sentenced him to ten years. Six soldiers in two jeeps took him away, but the prison was in a Military Barracks and he was given a large cell that once housed an important dignitary. Compared to his room in that flea-bag hotel, it was luxurious.

The food was also good, and now he began thinking that he enjoyed being a revolutionary a lot more than being a comedian. Damn, but this was the life. He even had his cigars every day as well, courtesy of the Colonel in charge of the prison, with whom he played chess two or three times a week. His sister brought him books and life was good. It was like living on Riviera, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure what living there was like. They even allowed him to have a little nookie now and then. Three of the prostitutes at the hotel drew straws each afternoon to see who would take his siesta with him.

He had almost forgotten about that little Argentinian piss-ant, Che, when he received a message through one of the girls. A small group of anti-Batista politicos had mistaken him for a revolutionary too and one night had taken him to a big house not far from the hotel for a clandestine meeting. Since he wore a Beret, they thought he might be a former member of the Green Berets and they needed someone with military knowledge and leadership abilities to help them topple Batista's government.

The men he met that evening were some of the wealthy landowners, and they were burning with a zeal like he'd not seen before, a zeal to get rid of Juan Batista and elect a new President. They had money and they were seeking recruits. Che pushed his beret further forward on his head to try to look more sinister, and asked how much cash they had to pay for a man with leadership abilities. Thousands of American dollars they said, and that's when a little pissant from Argentina decided to become a revolutionary in Cuba.

JAN. 30, 2004
Fidel was having a great time in Batista's jail, and he thought that for a Dictator the man did not know how to act. He' didn't have the balls to be a great Dictator, just a mediocre one controlled by the N.Y. Mafia, that's all.

He was reading Mein Kampf again as well as other books about Hitler and he thought that there was a guy who really knew how a Dictator should act. If he was ever a Dictator, he thought, he'd pattern himself after Hitler.

The more he thought about it, the more he thought he'd like to take over in Batista's place. He knew how to act, and he knew how to be a terrible (terrific) Dictator.
(more coming)

Thursday, January 22, 2004


What's wrong with the rich Cubans in Miami? What are they thinking about? Has the good life in America made them soft, made them forget the people they left behind? Or are they simply afraid of Castro's minions, his spies, who live in Flrorida?

Yeah, I know that there are many Cubans and Cuban-Americans working their butts off to help those held in virtual slavery by Fidel, an island that is really nothing more one huge concentration camp. They feel it every single day of their lives and never forget those they left behind. But, it takes money for them to do the job they need to do in order to influence both American and foreign opinion about Fidel, to expose that Cockroach for what he is, to tell the truth about Cuba to America's high school and college students.

It takes money to produce books, pamphlets, videos, movies, newspaper stores, ads and TV shows. And, that's what guys like Mario and Agustin, and a bunch of others lack. They toil away and struggle financially, but it seems to me, watching from afar, that they get little support. The one thing I notice is that Cubans have good manners, and in spite of their hatred for Castro, they won't refer to him a La Cucaracha or any other well-deserved appelation. Take off the kid gloves and come out fighting; he's worse than that, but why give him any respect at all? Imagine, Hollywood calling him Mr. President? What balderdash! That he ain't.

Some of those guys living on the Canals in Florida, luxuriating in the sun on their patios, could write a check for $100 grand today, and another tomorrow, and not miss it. Yet, do they do it? No. If they did, the propaganda war would start to slip away from the Liberals and the truth would begin to catch up with the lies told in our institutions of education. World opinion would begin to change as well.

It is stupidity to keep losing this propoganda war with that Cockroach. It is stupidity to pass up the opportunity that is within their grasp right now.

Look, the only success that the Communists can show for 45 years in control of Cuba has been built by, yes, by Capitalists! Imagine, cities decaying day by day, week by week, for 45 years simply falling apart, disintegrating before their very eyes. Then within a few years Canadian and English and other capitalists moved into the Tourist Zone and voila, Casto the Cockroach has millions of dollars pouring into his coffers! Imagine what Cuba would be like without that money today; there would be starvation on the island!

Publish pamphlets and make them available in every library in the country showing those buildings that have collapsed and opposite every one of those pictures, a photo of a hotel or a beach scene in the Tourist Zone. Smuggle pamphlets into Cuba. Ask Cubans why they live in poverty while the rest of the world visits Cuba and lives in luxury. Hell, float boxes of them in to Cuba. Fill the beaches with boxes of these pamphlets. Tourists can smuggle them in. There has never been such an opoortunity to turn things around.

Once that Cucaracha and his henchmen are gone, the business opportunities in Cuba will be endless. Those big-bellied millionaires luxuriating up and down the coast of Florida will have an opportunity to make more millions, and at the same time bring Cuba out of the poverty and l959 Time Warp it is in. They'll open up job opportunities for all Cubans.

Unhappiness breeds revolutions; show Cubans how the Great Cockroach lets foreign corporations make all the money, while denying the citizens of Cuba the same opportunity. Show it in ads in American newspapers. Show it in French newspapers, and Spanish newspapers, and Mexican newspapers.

Why wait two or five or ten years for God to squash the Cockroach; let Cubans do it now by providing them with the incentive to do it. Peaceful marches, Ghandi like, will do it. Just give them the encouragement to do it. Give them the incentive. Tell them what is waiting for them when they get rid of the Cockroach, tell them the paradise that they can build on that lovely island, that they too can live like the tourists and deserve to have the opportunity to do so.

So, you say, who the hell is this guy who is telling us what to do? How the hell does he know what we went through and what we're doing?

Let me tell you, I'v seen Communism up close, real close, in the USSR in 1944, but I already knew a lot about it, because I was reading about it for twelve years by then. I also saw Cuba when it was a prosperous bustling happy free country, before both Batista and that Cockroach, Fidel, ruined it. I knew men and women who fled Russia, who fled Hungary, who left Czechoslavakia, and Poland and other Communist countries. I heard their stories first hand and knew what they had gone through to escape, and how they felt about America. I know men who have spent time in prison for simply trying to leave a Communist country.

I will always encourage those who are not free to seek freedom, and to me, Cuba is now ripe for a day of awakening. Wait for the Cockroach to die and by then, Las Cucarachitas will have already set the wheels in motion to suppress the people who try to rise up. It must be done before he relinquishes control, either through a disabling stroke, or by dying.

Monday, January 19, 2004



Yeah, I know. Why should they risk their lives, or their freedom? You sit there, safe, in the U.S. What have you got to lose? Right?

Well, what have they got to lose that they haven't lost already? How did Poland get out from under the yoke of Communism? A general strike. How did Czechoslavakia manage it? A general strike. All they have to lose is their chains? Throughout history men and women have used strikes to gain their freedom. Risky? Of course.

Should they expect help from abroad? No. For every thousand that are put in prison, another thousand must stand in their places. There is no other way. Look at the thousands who died at sea, and those who were executed. It is time for Cubans to rise up en masse and gain their own freedom. Obviously no one else is going to do it for them. Sound stupid to you? Well, then read your history.

Freedom does not come without risk and sacrifice, even deaths. But if enough people rise up, they'll throw that Cockroach out of power and rebuild Cuba.

Sunday, January 18, 2004


Communism in Cuba is a total failure, but like a Hollywood farce, they've got the dead body propped up in the passenger seat, strapped in, and they're trying desperately to make it look as if it is alive. The mouth is agape, the tongue hanging out, the eyes bulging, and the head keeps falling out the window. Fidel, driving with one hand, keeps trying to prop it back up; Raul, sitting in the back seat is hysterically jumping all over the rear seat and looking out the back window.

Yet, Fidel has managed to keep American's Liberal element convinced that El Communista is still alive and functioning, fooled Steven Spielberg, disarmed Kevin Costner, cajoled Cong. Sam Farr, buggered Harry Belafonte and Danny Glover, and lured the Hollywood Liberal establishment into his web of deceit.

Capitalism is demonstrating how fast it can outstrip Communism and has wrought a miracle along a few miles of Cuba's beaches, but not one Cuban shares in the benefits of the new developments. Communism is dead, but dupes like Sam Farr listen in awe as La Grande Cucarache pontificates for hours on end...about nothing, nada.

This Jefe las Cucarachitas is the all-time World's greatest bull-shitter (pardon my language, but one must tell the truth evan at the chance of offending sensitive Hollywood ears); 45 years of lies, deceit, murder, torture, false-imprisonments, and enslaving his own people.

Communism in Cuba is dead, but now they want to prop up the body again, by removing trade restrictions. Why? Every single product or food or weaponry that Fidel wishes to buy is available elsewhere in the world, in Mexico for example, or England or France or Italy or Spain.

The body is beginning to putrify, but he wants to put it in a new suit, courtesy of American credit. Yes, Communism is dead, riding in a 1959 Cadillac, smoke pouring out of the tailpipe, and Fidel is holding it by one ear, trying to make the head stay upright. Poor Raul, he just soiled his underwear, but he'll stick with his brother Cockroach until the end, as will America's Liberal establishment. Perhaps with a little credit, they can prop it up a little longer, just a wee bit longer. All it will take is a little bit of credit; he got six billion dollars a year from Russia, so perhaps ten can get ten billion a year from the United States. He'll repaint the '59 Cadiallac, but not one apartment in Santiago or Havana for the ordinary Cubans.

Communism is dead, now if only America will listen to the National Council of Churches and give some good Christian aid to Fidel's government, prop up the dead body, perhaps they can get another ten years out of it. So far the mortician has made it look life-like enough to fool the Liberals, with a little luck...but nah, that couldn't happen, could it?

Friday, January 16, 2004


Ninety miles off our shores is the best example anyone could ever imagine of the difference between Communism and Capitalism.

Ninety miles off our shores is the shocking story etched in stone of the failure of Communism and the success of Capitalism.

Ninety miles off the coast of Florida is an island that offers a compacted history lesson of the past 50 years of how Socialism dooms a nation and Capitalism offers hope and opportunity. In one small zone on the island of Cuba where capitalism is allowed, the hopes and abilities of a free people are exemplified in modern hotels, the latest designer clothes and meals fit for a king.

The rest of the Island, the balance of Cuba, suffers from the hopelessness of a Communist system that stifles creativity and iniative. The cities literally are crumbling around the Cuban people, and streets look like war zones after a bombing raid by 500 planes, and it is all due to the utter stupidity of one man, Fidel Castro.

You can compare pictures of the two areas, and it will be difficult to believe that they are both part of just this one Island. The proof of the strangling effect of Socialism as opposed to the dynamics of Capitalism is right there. Yet, these damnable Liberals can go there and fail to see what is before their very eyes, fail to acknowledge it, fail to interpret it. Like parrots they keeps repeating such assininities mouthed by Fidel (La Cucaracha) Castro: there is 100% literacy in Cuba. Free school, free medical care.

My God, are all Liberals willing to give up all their freedoms and submit to the tyranny of a single loutish bearded ass in exchange for these illusions? It is unimagineable to me that anyone can fall for such absurdities, but they do.

Who in the hell has ever tested the Cuban people to either prove or disprove the absurd claim of 100% literacy, for example? Don't these Castro-Liberals use common sense, reason things out, or question a single thing he says?

Do all Liberals live in LaLa Land? Do all Liberals believe in the goodness of a guy who has caused the execution of more than 10,000 Cuban citizens? Don't they know Evil when it is right before their eyes? Are they blinded by the free offers cited on the cupons printed on the back of a Wheaties box? Crumbling buildings, streets full of bricks (no, you won't die of a heart attack in Cuba, because you're more likely to be killed by falling masonry).


Like at UCSB, where obviously such stupidity exists...that Castro is so wonderful that Chancellor Greenwood excepts a painting from him as a gift to the school

Wednesday, January 14, 2004


Two nights work went down the drain. I spent almost an hour composing a page just the other night and suddenly my modem connection went down. I don't know how many times this has happened to me lately. All that work gone down the drain.

I was so teed off I had to get away from the computer before I took a hammer to it. For three weeks now it has been one problem after the other, and even my guru is running out of patience. No matter what he does, something else goes wrong within an hour after he leaves. I've wasted a good 40 hours in the past three weeks. Windows ME is for the birds as far as I am concerned.

And, that is what others keep telling me. I do not understand why Dell installed it in the first place. I just wrote to Michael Dell, CEO, and let him know my feelings. Why not? It's my money and I've not been happy with this set-up since shortly after installing it. ME is crap. I'm not an expert, but I cannot find anyone who is with this system, and they all say the same thing, ME is crap, so I am repeating it from local authorities and some not so local as well. Microsoft ME is CRAP.

The story is that something is seriously wrong with Fidel Castro. (Of course, there always was with that murdering cockroach. He's not much better than Saddam was.)

It's too bad he has been allowed to live out his life as he wished. Execution would have resolved it sooner and more appropriately.

Saturday, January 10, 2004


Before Sept. 11th, Afghanistan was quite firmly in the hands of the Taliban. The Communists had been tossed out. Russia had changed. Osama had trained hundreds, if not thousands, of terrorists and he had a nice base of operations from which to strike. His mistake? Striking at the U.S. first! If he had struck at Saudi Arabia, there is a fair chance that he could have toppled the regime there, and perhaps in Kuwait as well. In league with Syria, Iraq and the Arab countries, he'd have had the U.S. at quite a disadvantage.

He allowed his hatred to dictate his course of action, rather than reason. Our most important mission now, as before, is to root out Osama bin Laden, and to kill him. He is not the type of man we can afford to let live. There is only one answer; he must be killed.

There are many people who simply cannot say or write that. He is too dangerous to be allowed to live, no matter where or how he is imprisoned. Dead he will be in the garbage dump of History, where he belongs.

Friday, January 09, 2004


Dear Citizens of Afghanistan:

We, the governing body of Al Quaeda, do apologize for setting off a car bomb that killed 8 children on their way home from school, as well as injuring 50 other citizens of your country. We're really trying to kill Americans, but once again we missed. Therefore it is the Americans' fault for driving too fast past the car bomb. You understand, don't you?

We've also killed innocent Palestinians, Iraqis, and Saudis. Again, it is the Americans' fault. We cannot help it if the average suicide bomber is a rather dumb dipshit and kills the wrong people, can we?

The Americans could be a little more cooperative, and the world a little less critical. The only ones who really understand us are the anti-war protestors in the U.S.

To those who lost children, it is nothing, as Allah will bless them when they reach Paradise. They will receive the true blessing of 50 virgins after they reach the age of 21, providing they are not women or Lesbians.

After all, it was only a simple mistake.

Tuesday, January 06, 2004


I have no use for terrorists, but perhaps this sounds like an inane statement to you, because you'll say, "Well, who does?" So, let me explain a bit more clearly, "I think that they should be executed, and as quickly as possible."

There was a statement made in the title of a book about 30 years ago by Ed Davis, Chief of Police of Los Angeles, and it was: Hang them at the airport. If they're caught in an act of terrorism, then they're guilty. Oh yeah, we are a nation of laws, I know. By the time we get them into a prison cell for good, we've spent millions and not taught any of them a lesson, at least one they will understand.

Look at what we're going through right now, the terrible inconvenience to all travelers, and the billions in costs. Osama bin Laden and all his top echelon men should be executed almost as quickly as they are caught. Whoops, that's right. We need to milk them for information and so they'll live out a life with TV and visitors on a regular basis, while they make converts to the cause in prison. Balderdash.

That's like the terrorists who brought the plane down over Lockerbie; the wheels of justice are grinding exceedingly slow in that case. The pussies in the UN will give them ten to twenty years and they'll be back home in less than ten.

Right now there are between five and ten thousand fighters in Iraq, and they're holding the whole country hostage. The electricity is off more than it's on, because terrorists are dynamiting the towers that carry the wires. Look at the price the ordinary citizens are paying for that.


When I flew to NY the last time I spent half an hour going through an extra search, and damned if my shoes did not register gun-powder. Man, they used gloves and little round swatches of cloth and they registered the same a second time. The nails in my shoes came close to being pulled out. Most people do not have nails in their shoes today, but I do.

They asked if I was taking nitroglycerine pills, which I am not. Here I am, 79 and a cripple in a wheelchair, and if I had not been so early for my flight, I'd have missed it. The last time I saw that was back in '83 when my Dad was 82, frail, with a little Col. Sander's tuft of hair on his chin, and he got searched thoroughly.

The funny thing about it is that he had forgotten that his .22 starter pistol was in the little handbag where he kept it and that was the one he was using! To top that, they missed it, even though it had shown up in the xray machine! Damn. If they had found it he might have had better medical care in prison and still be alive at 103. Ain't that a kicker?