First Post! 09/19/2009 7 Comments   Start blogging by creating a new post. You can edit or delete me by clicking under the comments. You can also customize your sidebar by dragging in elements from the top bar.   Comments Marco Miranda Sr. link 10/26/2009 14:47 HOMOSEXUALITY ANYONE ? Recent articles on Homosexuality have raised a few shackles, or whatever. The topic is complex with or without the imposition of either biological or religious criteria. A visit to the British Museum and a few hours poring over some incredibly enlightening tomes would do wonders to my readers and fans, all six of them. Soon as I get the second part of my tax refund, thanks to all of you, I shall charter a flight to London where my readers, all six of them, are invited to spend a day or two at the BM, all expenses paid. About the tomes. The study of Sexuality in the primitive social enclaves, or cave men and cave women, reveals an interesting parallel between the need for sexual activity and a similar need for food. The analysis is of course highly theoretical since some of the elements on which the study is based result from the interpretation of legends and myths of places in Central Africa and later on in Sumeria, now Iraq. Briefly, if you are hungry you look for food. If your sexual desire is somehow stimulated, you seek a partner. The claim is that both instincts have not changed since that day in the cave when Orgh, after eating half a deer, turned to Erghina and upon observing how she combed her hair, signaled in no uncertain terms that the moment of carnal ecstasy was at hand. The authors go a bit further. If Erghina was not around but Blorgho, the handsome hunter was and felt the same urge, it was considered a natural act if they satisfied their urges with each other. The rationalization took advantage of the comparisons with food. If you were hungry and there was no deer, you ate roots, or fish or candied apples. Conclusion: the urges had to be satisfied and the fashion adopted was not considered important. Homosexuality was present then. This is of course an oversimplification. In another volume, much is said about the emergence of organized religions and the effect they had on sexual activity. As morality acquired its own personality, sexual mores were quickly incorporated (mainly adultery) even though homosexuality continued to be tacitly accepted. By then I was tired of reading so I concluded that neither religion, nor morality, nor biology, nor social guidelines have any business with this human preference. I looked across the polished library table and saw a lovely lady who, upon observing what I was reading, smiled seductively. After making sure that she was born and raised a female of the species, I smiled, got up off my chair and approached her. Reply Marco MIranda Sr. link 10/26/2009 14:55 THE AFGHANISTAN RIDDLE Ernie, my Pizza delivery boy, placed the box containing a Pizza a L’Umbrese that delivered a most enticing aroma on the kitchen table, as he has done for more than 7 years by now. I paid him the usual amount that included a generous tip, or as he called it a ‘transport, delivery and invoicing” fee. Instead of leaving, he stood in front of the table where I had already taken a seat and had the bottle of Varesotto 92 ready to join me. I looked at him and that prompted him to ask me: “What do you think of the Afghanistan question?’ Before I had a chance to digest the question and prepare an answer, he said; ”Let me tell you, If we don’t add at least 200,000 more troops in the next two weeks, like General Crystal says, we will have been defeated!” ”You think so?” “Abso. Now is our chance to improve the lives of those people even if we have to bomb every chicken coop in the place!” He smiled triumphantly and left. Later, at the barber shop, I sat quietly expecting the usual treatment from Philbert. As he approached the chair he asked me; “What do you think of the Afghanistan question?” Again, I did not have a chance to formulate an answer as he followed the question with the following: “It will be a terrible mistake if we send one more soldier to Afghanistan. Our Generals only wants to bomb and try the latest weapons; our politicians want to bomb to show how courageous they are sitting in their mansions in Chevy Chase, and the lobbysts and Military-Industrial complex execs are eager for the same; you know, arms contracts, building an new embassy at 300 billion, new sewers in Afghanistan, more uniforms made of bullet resistant crepe material at 733 dollars each and bottled water at 17 dollars a small bottle!” I had no choice but to expose one of my famous techniques of ‘diversionary engagement’ by asking old Philbert: “Do you have an umbrella? When I am finished here I have to go to my office two blocks from here.” ‘Yes, of course. You know if it keeps on raining like this, we soon have to move around in boats. For instance, in 1989 when I was ……” MORAL OF THE STORY: When facing a tough decision, go for a walk in the rain. If you live in the White House, make a speech about artichokes. Reply Marco Miranda Sr. link 11/14/2011 05:43 OSAMA IS HERE. I PLAYED 18 HOLES OF GOLF WITH HIM ! NOV 10,2011 He turned to me at the beginning of the seventh, a nasty hole that features a second shot over a protected long and wide pond, sharp borders and a very narrow fairway strip. He smiled with what I would call a new smile, now that there was no thick and confusing beard that at times in the past had even blurred his delicate head nods, and said; “Gee, it’s great to be back here. I always loved Dunwoody Georgia and the lovely relaxed rhythm of it. Even the caddies move as if they had been designed to float!” He had shaved the beard he had used for years and left a modest upper lip and a light shade around face and chin. Five years ago when he joined the golf club, he was looked upon with the expected dislike if not repulsion reserved for suntanned “furriners’ by some of the more “horse-manure-minded” members, especially if the ‘furriner” appeared to have come from far away sandy lands. All that turned into fictitious charm and hypocritical good feelings when his sponsors showed up with a “modest” contribution of 30 million dollars, of which ten were suggested to be shared by the 12 Board members as a personal contribution and reward for their effort in keeping the club area from becoming another low cost apartment complex. Five of those millions were to be distributed among the clubs personnel. He was immediately loved, respected and almost worshipped. For some time there was a wave of curiosity about the new club member. He was a tall, lean man with large hands and wore perennial aviator glasses. He was always driven by a chauffeur that reminded some of Giuliano, the famous gangster from the Sicilian gang in the Bronx. His golf was acceptable, with a handicap that appeared to rest between 8 to 14, which is not a bad range for an 18 hole adventure and played as twosome, with either myself or a friend of his who also sported that reserved Middle East look. This all started five years ago when Aloysius, a good friend of mine and respectable executive of a Financial Corporation, invited me to lunch for the purpose of discussing the membership of a client of his that had just settled in Atlanta. “My man, Owen Arena, is a golf nut and especially brilliant in bunker shots that look impossible. He is a gentleman, speaks several languages, I think he was born abroad but has lived in the States on and off since childhood. Do not be surprised when you meet Mister Arena; he looks like Osama Bin Laden and knows it and like Bin Laden, he disappears for weeks and returns suntanned even more and usually in a good mood.” “What is his occupation?” “He is Chairman of a Medical Foundation mainly dedicate to research of brain damage, inherited traits and all the basis of psychiatric disorders that occur in people with neurological conditions, epilepsy and biological ailments.” “Is he a doctor?” “No, but his mind is a like an encyclopedia. He can describe the findings of their Research, which uses advanced neuron-imaging techniques, shows similarities in brain cell patterns in people with schizophrenia and temporal lobe epilepsy and the improvised methods that have been devised at the Foundation.” He paused to think a bit and then added: “The research gives greater insights into both conditions, which may potentially lead to new treatments in the future. Their work is also developed with Emory University and its Research branch. He is a good golfer, well educated, nice and polite person and looks like Osama Bin Laden, and know it!” I asked: “How did he react when Osama Bin Laden was killed in Pakistan and then dumped in the ocean?” “Aloysius replied at once: Nothing unusual except for a comment he made recently when discussing temperature changes in the world and in particular in the oceans of the planet. Only the sharp among us could learn something about Mister Arena then!” “What did he say?” “Not much but you be the judge. He said: ’There are continuous changes at sea. Even the Arabian Sea that is supposed to be warmer than other oceans recently has been having cold spots that people did not expect near the coast of Pakistan!” “So?” “Do you remember the team that located Bin Laden in Pakistan claimed that he was killed and then, without any evidence to prove it, stated that his body was dumped in the Arabian Ocean?” 770 WDS MARCO A. MIRANDA SR.© Reply Marco Miranda Sr. link 11/14/2011 05:46 DOWN MEMORY LANE WITH HILLARY CLINTON I was fortunate to convince Mrs. Hillary Clinton, our dynamic Secretary of State to devote some time to me and the Memoirs I was writing about some of our respected lady politicians. It took a few days to get an answer but finally it came. She thought that a good story would consist of her initial meeting with a member of the opposite party when she had just moved to the White House during Bill Clinton’s first term as president. It was one of those inquiries that “smell of third grade”, as she put it. Here is the way it went: "Mrs Clinton, we are aware that as the wife of the President and as a candidate to the Presidency you have shown a great deal of composure and assurance before the probing questions of a number of panels, television hosts, press conferences and those ad hoc conferences on the way to the elevators, the bar or the relief habitats. How did you develop such talent?' "The hard way. In this business you are liable to run into all kind of inquisitors some of whom search for the way to make you contradict yourself, disguise the truth of a given situation or evade the questions as best you can. Disraeli said that official inquiries are like visits to the dentist; either you bite the hand that tortures you or you lose the tooth!" "Any special incidents?" "As a matter of fact I was just thinking about one of the first grillings I had. I was questioned by a Senator known for his dislike of my party, our ideology, our history and my person. It appeared like a personal form of some imaginary revenge or perhaps some atavistic hatred. Let me recount the incident. "The first few minutes of the session were enough to unnerve a school bus. For a moment there, the Inquisitor looked as if he would scream the moment I sat down in front of him. He had raised a copy of the Constitution in his right hand and with his left index finger pointed at it with vehemence. But he did not say a word. Instead, he looked at me, who had taken pains to dress tastefully and, I hoped, appeared relaxed and not in the least nervous or apprehensive. His look was a mixture of hatred and, somehow, a tiny glimmer of envy. I realized that my dress was a stunning, yet sober creation that was elegant and solemn. He almost forgot that I was a witness in a national inquiry. At last, he came out of his momentary lapse and putting the Constitution down, said: "Now, we have irrefutable evidence that during your last year in High School, you placed no less than 8 pieces of chewed gum under your desk. This offense has not been discovered until recently thanks to the untiring efforts of a special section attached to our party. I feel that your silence all these years has probably been its own punishment, by keeping this onerous offense locked in your heart, if you happen to have one. . ." I looked at the Inquisitor squarely in the eye and replied in my well modulated voice, enhanced with a slight trace of a Midwestern accent: "If I recall correctly, there were 9 pieces of regular Spearmint Wrigley's Chewing Gum, 5 Adams, 2 Bubble gums and one piece of anchovy that had stuck to my braces. Your Inquisitors do not seem very proficient. They also missed the traffic ticket I never paid when I was vacationing in Millinocket in Maine in 1968. That was August 19 at about 6 P.M., your Honor. Or should I call you your Blessed and Exalted Excellency?" "Sarcasm will get you nowhere. Now, what about the files?" "What files?" "The ones that turned up at your family quarters in the White House" "Sir, when we moved form Arkansas to Washington, we packed 165 boxes with books, records, pictures, Oxford awards, Rhodes certificates, photo albums, old letters, hand written copies of my husband's letters to girlfriends of his, and a complete music sheet library of popular tunes for saxophone and claves. From my office, we shipped 92 boxes with files, old bills, last wills, college thesis, legal briefs, yellow pads, pencils and green leather pillows. We put all the boxes in Vice President Quayle's office, which is now the laundry room, and began taking some upstairs as the need arose." "Like what?" "Well, the saxophone sheet music for one. My husband helps my mood by blowing a couple of old romantic tunes once in a while, you know. . " "How about the files from your legal days?" "Same thing. My secretary brings up a box occasionally when looking for old correspondence and records. Most people keep old boxes in the attic and once in a while get a box down when they look for something. The only difference is that we use an ex-Vice President's office instead of an attic and bring boxes to rooms that were once occupied by George Washington, Wilson, Roosevelt, Truman and Carter." The Senator's eyes lit up. He leaned forward an Reply Marco Miranda Sr link 11/14/2011 06:00 As a result of unfortunate decisions, policies dealing with environment protection have been strongly opposed. What will be the effect on our life? Read on. Tulsa Oklahoma "James, are you going to the station this morning?" Kay had been up since 5 am and was anxious to see her ex-senator husband off to work at the modest site where his job was located. Not the fancy offices he had occupied in Washington DC some years back, or even the modest offices of the Oklahoma Legislature in Oklahoma City. Now, he was just a manual operator at the small Vehicle Recharge station in the outskirts of the city of Tulsa, almost in Sapulpa. The gas stations of old remained a sweet memory for many, same as the availability of cars, buses, motorcycles and airplanes. She though that he had been fortunate to get a job at this Recharge Station after his forced exit from the government. For some years, some of the political groups in Government had played their cards without concern for logic, common sense and the well being of the nation. As a political philosophy, which - incidentally had only enjoyed sporadic injections of valid thought and substance - it had failed miserably having caused considerable damage to the republic and to the rest of the world. Their removal however had arrived too late. Some of the worst predictions had been fulfilled. These thoughts crossed her mind as the ex-senator appeared in the kitchen door wearing his work green coveralls, his straw hat and his heavy work boots. "Yes, I have station this morning. We are charging up some government sand crawlers." He looked out the window and could not hold the tears that flowed from his eyes at once. He longed for the sight of trees, grass, bushes and the irresponsible acrobatics of bugs, bees and mosquitoes. All he could see from his window was the outline of some of the university buildings sitting on the expanse of sand that had become the natural panorama of most of the United States. "Damn you Al Gore!" he muttered and sat down to breakfast. Reply Marco Miranda Sr. link 11/14/2011 06:05 REMEMBERING THE TORTURE DAYS The office of the Secretary of State is located in a strategic corner of the Harry S. Truman building. From its windows you can see the White House, the Department of Justice and the surrounding buildings and parks. Your pride as a citizen tempts you to contemplate that view and say to yourself: "And all this is mine!" "What are you thinking? Nice view, eh?" Secretary Rice walked across the room and shook hands with me. I held her hand longer than necessary and looked at it with interest. "Are you looking for blood?" She asked, surprising me because that is exactly what I was looking for. "Well, yes Ms Secretary. We hear that this Administration has allowed torture to take place and I thought that you people with your usual devotion to this administration's policies would be quite adept at torturing people" "You are poorly informed. We no longer bleed our prisoners. We use high tech methods that are quicker and certainly more painful. We want the prisoners to realize at once that the game is a real one" "Tell me about it" I asked eagerly thinking that here was my chance to turn in a real shocker of a front pager and earn that coveted corner office instead of that janitor hole. "I'll do better than that" she smiled and then I noticed the fangs on either side of her frontal row of healthy teeth. She pushed a button and at once two beefy agents walked in, grabbed me, cuffed me and sat me down in one of the Chester & Monroney chairs. While this was being done, I could see from a corner of my eye Secretary Rice putting on rubber gloves. Once tied to the chair, she approached me with a syringe in her hands. She smiled again and said: "What ever gave you the idea that we torture people?" Chemical engineer by training, international executive by merit and writer by addiction. Former syndicated columnist of Technology columns, has written for television and movies. His humorous articles contain fine satire and have been published in 4 languages. Quote: "Love and smiles teach tolerance; days without either are days wasted" Reply Marco Miranda Sr. link 11/14/2011 06:09 MAKE MY DAY Here we go again. American history repeats itself. The last assurance by some of the top members of the US Government that all options about war on Iran are on the table, is enough to worry even insensitive cellular structures like Beck, Limbaugh and Krauthammer. Maybe. The matter is serious enough that it urged me to get in touch with my great-great grandfather to get his opinion on the matter and his usual wise comments on events affecting our beloved country. By the way, I must state that I am a professional medium and have developed the essential connections to those in that cheerful sphere in the beyond.(see my web page) My Gramps, as I improperly call him, seems to delight in our sessions. He is always well disposed to advance historical facts and enlighten topics of present import. He led a full life as a professor and scientist and had savored in his youth the bitterness of several military campaigns in a country in the process of becoming a powerful nation. This time, Cheney's words were on the table. "What do you think, Gramps?' "Nothing new for this republic' "What do you mean?' "Business as usual. Invading countries is another of our great specialties!' "That so, Gramps?' "Yup. I was a sailor in the battleship USS Maine in 1898 and was saved by the romantic date I had that evening in Havana harbor. If you remember your history, the battleship USS Maine in Havana harbor blew up with a loss of 266 men. Evidence as to the cause of the explosion was inconclusive and contradictory. It may have been an accident, or caused by a Spanish or Cuban mine. Years later, some veterans claimed that the explosion was prepared by underwater Navy demolition experts belonging to a Navy group that no longer in existence and that only a skeleton crew was expected to remain on board when the bomb exploded, killing a number of sailor that had been expected to spend that evening ashore Blowing up the Maine, sort of the proud flagship of our Navy, provided the perfect excuse to declare war on Spain and cash in on Puerto Rico, the Philippines, Guam and a few other jewels!" "Be that as it may, Gramps, but you can not prepare the country for another invasion by enlarging the perspectives of Iran's nuclear ambitions into a deadly threat to all humanity. Besides, what happened in Havana harbor that evening, whether it was an accident or the means to justify military action, should not justify a permanent policy on the basis of a single incident, Gramps. You don't believe that we arranged for incidents to happen to our own forces or property in order to justify military action?" "You asked for it. Let me just mention some of the more evident of all those invasions that in one form or another were created by the US Government. How about Colombia, Panama, Nicaragua, Santo Domingo, Lebanon, Cambodia, Somalia, Guatemala, Indo China, Honduras, Zaire, Albania, East Timor, Laos, Ethiopia, Tunisia, Nigeria, Marocco, Indonesia, Korea, Vietnam, Granada, Haiti, Afganistán and Iraq? Wise up great-great-grandsomething of mine. They were all contrived by our own services to give us the excuse to war, war, war!" "Gramps, you remember Clint Eastwood's famous phrase about some one making his day?" "How can any one forget it. Why?" "You just ruined my day!!" With tears in my eyes I had to cut off the connection. Reply Leave a Reply

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