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I digress to observe—don't call it obsession—I have few regrets, and I make few concessions... but I'm leery of those—unconstrained and contrary—who hide in a blind, then define... arbitrary.These are men from your shadows that you don't know to fear. Their lives are a secret; they have the reins, clear? Wielding keys to the kingdom ... no concessions to guilt; they're the *man*, understand, and these *own* what you've built!
They obfuscate due process, put "fairness" on the run, and they "know" our jurisprudence as the means to use a "gun." They're traffic cops for bad guys—they maintain that "status quo." They have written all the laws for their convenience... ...don't you know?
They write the laws to favor only ways they'd make their call, so we find laws written, plainly, saying nothing much at all. Justice is illusion for the mass's rank and file—sneers their patronizing message fairly dripping smirking guile!
See, Ford now sits, sedated, in a washed-out, pink-walled room. A victim of indifference, he's remanded and entombed. He's living in a hell on Earth for those who wish him quiet. They say that he's a killer, friend, but don't believe; decry it!
It's true John Ford asked questions. It's true that he would write. It's true that he got up your nose; it's true he'd "fight the fight"! He made the toughest queries, and he squeezed the "story" close, so facts aren't clear on why the *man* has got him mal-disposed!
Near incommunicado... if he "speaks" he's barely heard; this man is in a silenced cage—the "man's" captive silenced bird.
It's true he may be guilty of this thing they've said he's done... but I'd lay you odds it's bat-squeeze, friend, and I'd bet the summer sun!
Do you think he's guilty? Really? ...How? Why? When? Where? If the minimally interested person tries to fill in these gaping holes of alleged guilt? It doesn't happen... verily reader! It just doesn't happen! The suspect "man's" strident admonitions with regard to Ford's guilt... dissolve like a night-fog in the light of summer's sun...
Moreover, the facts of the Ford case do not strike you, Sir and Madam, as ridiculously contrived and smolderingly convenient for known criminals with long traditions of systemic corruption? True enough, these were Ford's opposition. Official Criminals and Miscreants in a New York county famous for official criminals and miscreants! Such is Suffolk County. Look it up.
You don't think Ford got so far up someone's powerful nose that they surgically removed him to a place where they could casually but inevitably, and then thoroughly ... discredit him or, in other words, snuff him out like a guttering candle without killing him? Their way was worse.
...You're next, pal, or pal-ette! Search your heart; don't take my word for it. I say true. Even if you're a good Nazi; there's no fair play with that lot. There is only "weak" and "strong."
Throw me a bone of concern if, suddenly, I become quiet, reader... appreciating, well, the reverence to which I would not be held. John Ford is in demonstrably worse straights... endured now for well over 2 decades...
Know this: I love life; I'm having a ball; depression and failure as reasons for my *alleged* suicide...? They will be completely ludicrous.
The same applies if I am accused of putting radium in an imagined adversary's recreational enema bag or if I end up on Pee-pee Dondi's puddin' & pie's, very punitively prosecuted, "...no fly..." list!
Know that John Ford loves his own life, as I do mine, somehow believing still that he will be vindicated... You can hear that in his voice... More on that later.
If I become quiet? Begin to wonder; begin to be more afraid. But, get mad ... now. It's time.
Write some letters, make some noise, talk to friends... ...stay within the confines of our *laws* and *constitution*, as useless as that advise appears to be... ...at present. Read from the forbidden index. It writes factually where opposition only insults its, pretty sterling, astonishingly and ironically, character. We all know what THAT means...
Consider... playing by the rules didn't seem to provide John Ford any protection. Real irony there.
Verily, Ford stood exponentially taller as an innocent grassroots American than have his prosecuting persecutors! His persecutors are scurvy knaves and psychopathic cads. They are, one begins to discover, irresponsibly rich and injudiciously free after committing egregious crimes. Ford rots so that this criminal rabble can breath... ...unconstrained... non-restricted, and well off their well-appointed knees!
Nothing is safe from the powerful arbitrary when he perceives a need to reach out and crush you like a bug in a bit of soiled tissue. Search your heart. You concur. Power corrupts absolutely, always.
Oh—by the way as the crow flies? I noticed a peculiar light low on the eastern horizon one predawn morning.
It traversed a soundless single line flying due north, jet fast, off the usual airway (recall that I was a master military aviator of 23 years). It flashed like a bright white strobe-light, but in a random fashion, though I saw it flash, once, a bright bluish RED strobe, then back to random frequency white. It appeared to jerk back and forth in a thumb's thickness as it traversed this single line, even accounting for false auto-kinetic movements, atmospheric refraction, or optical physiologies.
After traversing this single line for about forty-five degrees in my field of view? The light, inexplicably, blinked out...
There have been other revelations, reader... It's all a matter of putting in time watching the sky and doing a little of the old non-imaginational heavy lifting... you know?
Yeah. On my honor as a deacon in my own church of "It Ain't What You Think...", the same as any elected, pointedly non-installed President, trusted friend, honored relative, Principal, or holy person? Well, maybe not holy...
Read "ordinary"? Yeah, that's right. I am ...who I am... saying what I see while you're seeing what I say... ...like so many, many others as overproduced, overexposed, and even overweening as I am seen to be by some... meh.
Yeah yeah yeah... I hear the internal dialogue. Restore John Ford! Then we can talk.
Read on.
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