Clinton Delivers, "I Had a Motive" Speech at King's Funeral

With numerous civil right leaders standing to their feet and his wife, Hillary, forcing a smile to her face, past president, Bill Clinton presented his, "I Had a Motive," speech at the Corretta Scott King funeral.

The 78-year-old widow died last week at an alternative medicine clinic in Mexico, where she was battling ovarian cancer. She had also suffered from a serious stroke.

Clinton’s demeanor went from sullen to intoxicating as he approached the podium where Jesse Jackson once carved his initials as a child attending The Ebenezer Baptist church.

After hearing numerous rousing pep-rally style speeches and fabricated, "white lies," at what was intended to be a funeral that soon got out of hand, Clinton feared his discourse, written on the back of a bar napkin, was not going to allow him to be the Prince of black freedom.

Jimmy Carter, once thought to be president, stood before the crowds and wet his pants.

After his aides cleaned Carter up, he started to blame the Republicans for defective air conditioners, bad tasting fish and expensive denture cleaners which left the poor with dingy teeth.

Rev. Joseph Lowery, who co-founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference with Martin Luther King Jr., and Poet Maya Angelou, said Mrs King fought long and hard at the UN to prove their was no, "Weapons of Mass Destruction."

"It was her sacrifice to insure the black population in particular, that no intent of harm was done at the Twin Tower attack by our Moslem brothers while Bush knew full well his evil plans had fallen into place while he was reading Fahrenheit 451 to our school children and sinisterly smiling when he recited the passage, "We burn them to ashes and then burn the ashes. That's our official motto," Lowery said, with his fingers crossed behind his back.

Knowing full well his words couldn’t hold a candle to what the leaders ,who never get press time, were saying, Clinton ran to the pulpit and with his great extemporaneous abilities started to recite the now historical speech, "I Had A Motive."

"Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our flooded cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be blamed on Bush. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a motive. It is a motive deeply rooted in my mind.

Clinton continued, "When we let our good intentions rule, when we let it rule from every village government, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's chil’en, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Good intentions at last! Good intentions at last! thank God Almighty, we have good intentions at last!"

"My friends I had plenty of motives. Why I fully intended to appoint a black person to my cabinet. I thought long and hard about putting my office in Harlem and the motives behind the benefits it would bring to the poor chil'ren in America. It was a motive that drove me to come here today and it will be my motive to see my wife elected as the first Black woman to the Oval Office."

The crowd then rose to their feet in jubilation as outraged looks sprang from the face of Rev. Al Sharpton, who later said Clinton stole his thunder.

President Bush ended the celebration with words of admiration and deep respect, but the speech was not heard over the uncontrollable sobs of Oprah Winfrey after she threw herself onto the casket and wept furiously while screaming about a lost book deal.

Chapter Two: Folks Say She Walked Away

Chapter Two of The Farm, The Tractor and The Land They Call MinnesotaI

I now fell to my knees in the wet snow and with anger in my eyes, I shook my fists towards the sky. Like a soldier in battle who has seen the enemy plant land mines all around his pathway to victory, I smelled defeat but craved conquest. This was flesh and blood fighting a mere machine of steel and rubber. My body had the brains, the truck did not.

I stepped back for a moment to take inventory of available resources needed to remove the hated vehicle from the jack pine stump. All I had was what I brought-- my Allis Chalmers, a logging chain and a misanthropic neighbor who had fallen into deep trance thinking only what his wife was cooking for supper.

The sun had slowly moved to the west casting long shadows across the wet Minnesota snow. Numerous crows had taken seats on the branches of the barren white oaks as if to observe what was soon to become the shoot out animals of the wilderness had long waited for.

Once again the tractor followed the worn path to the bumper of the truck which must have been welded solid to the frame of the truck. Enough torque had been applied to both frame, axle and bumpers to pull down the Empire State Building. Still the beast just sat there as if it took deep root into the forest soil.

After jumping down, I told my neighbor this was the last battle. Either I take total victory or the truck would be left there for developers in the next century to stumble across. The deep forest, my friends, hides many secrets.

The tempered steel chain had a double-twisted-multiple knot across the frame of the truck and a twisting lock across the 3 inch thick plow bar. I pulled the grain shovel from the bed of the truck and cleaned off a runway. Sweat now soaked my flannel shirt and the vain across my forehead projected itself into plain view.

The showdown was soon to begin. My neighbor once again took his place in the truck, shoved the long black gear shift into 2nd gear and awaited the approximately 4 inch ride off the stump, onto the cleaned pathway then to the logging trail.

I carefully eased myself onto the cold steel seat of the tractor and pondered the choice of gears. Should I slowly ease the embedded truck off the pine stump or remove it with all the fury the forty-five horse powered orange utilitarian machine could give me.

The crows were rubbing their wings with glee as I chose high gear. I slid the gas feed down as the RPM’s wound up. Much like the brutes at a county fair tractor pull, the black smoke soon cleared out from the stacks and the launch looked like a go.

I waved backed to my neighbor who just snuffed out his Winston. He gave me the signal to let ‘er rip. My foot lifted from the clutch and the Allis sped off with the cold chain rattling behind. In a blink of an eye the chain would be taut and by all technical purposes, make the truck fly lose from its platform and be propelled with the same velocity of the tractor.

The best laid plans of mice and women often fail. My tractor gave all it had, the chain took hold and the truck slid into gear, but instead of following through the final plan, a weak link in the chain snapped and like a starved boa constrictor, it wrapped around my neck several times and then clobbered my head like a back-handed fist.

Stars are lovely when gazed upon in the middle of a frigid Minnesota night, but in the late afternoon they have more of a sedative effect and for a moment in time the constellations swirled about me. A bigger man would have been decapitated by the force of cold steel wrapping its deadly manacles about ones neck, but a woman, who had little time for death, soon awoke from the cruel blow.

I could not believe my truck shot me in the back!

In the wild west stealing a horse, shooting up the only bar in a fifty miles radius or firing a bullet into the back of an unsuspecting cowboy had to be the lowest form of human behavior. But this was the upper mid-west and the unwritten code stated one must load a 12 gauge and make Swiss Cheese out of the offending varmint. My four-ten, would only hurt the green metallic assassin enough to make it angry.

My neighbor dashed from the truck, likely thinking she deserved her fate. The crows flew into noisy hysterics and the truck, well it still sat there upon the stump. By all medical standards of sane behavior I should have allowed him to rush home and call in the forest ranger so they could pull me out in a cot attached to a snowmobile. But standard behavior was not in my plans.

As the truck swirled in a visionary circle I turned the tractor around and took aim for the International. I cared less that I might destroy my only remaining piece of motorized farm equipment--the truck had to be removed. My neighbor foolishly jumped in front of the tractor and stopped the suicidal crash from taking place. He ordered me to the truck and slowly drove down the trail with the Allis.

The lukewarm cup of coffee poured from the beaten thermos tasted good. I had no idea what my neighbor was up too, but a short time later as the afternoon chill set in he reappeared. In his hands he carried a simple jack that he slid under the bumper. With a slab of wood snugly placed under the lifting device, he started to levitate the rear of my deadly pickup.

The truck bed creaked as the slab sunk deep into the snow pack and when the rear-end finally lifted from the stump he took the broken chain and wrapped it into place behind the tractor and gently pulled the truck from the stump. The monster was free and the only accumulative damage was the broken chain and my devastated spirit.

I asked my doleful neighbor why he didn’t suggest it from the start and he simply shrugged his shoulders as he snuffed another Winston into the snow with his Sorrel boot. His only comment as he jumped into my truck for the short ride home was, "I guess I was bored and I know you were always worth an afternoon’s entertainment."

A few years later the 120 acre mosquito farm fell into disrepair. The daily ritual of milking goats, putting up hay and cutting firewood lost its charm and I downsized to a more manageable 15 swamp free acres.

The truck took its last attempt at killing me during a frigid morning ride to a local nursing home. The two-lane highway became a blinding disaster as the huge green hood flew open, cracked my windshield, soared about 30 feet in the air and landed straight up in a snow bank.

The International monster never returned to the farm.

Cindy Sheehan Arrested by FBI Sting

Washington DC

Police departments all across the land have been using a switch and bait method for years to reel in felons, now the FBI has created a new tool for tracing down left wing dissidents.

The law enforcement game is played by sending phoney party invitations or letters, stating the on-the-run felon has won a million dollar lottery and when the lawbreaker shows up at a makeshift office to collect the money, handcuffs are slapped on.

Cindy Sheehan, a 48 year-old former housewife, formerly from California and formerly a mother of an honorable Army veteran, Casey Sheehan, has been under surveillance by the FBI for five months.

After Sheehan’s arrest at last September’s Quarter Million Ding-Bat March, that drew more left wings than a BuffaloWild Wings Restaurant, the FBI implanted a high tech chip in her foot that would show her location at any given moment.

The costly experiment using a secret 21st century Big Brother sleuth, called Charley Chip, was used to keep the high strung woman in the grasp of federal agents.

The chip was implanted when Sheehan was offered a foot massage by a prisoner, who in fact was a burley FBI agent in drag.

During the comforting 30 minute rub-down, the make believe prisoner consoled Sheehan and his soothing voice and hands soon did the job allowing the chip to be firmly implanted into her right ankle.

Last month the FBI lost all communications with the Sheehan.

Federal officials were at loss to explain her disappearance since there are only two ways the chip could stop working, one is by surgically removing the device.

The second way is to subject the chip to 15 minutes in a microwave, thereby destroying the silicone properties of the device.

The microwave option is painful and authorities placed doubts she even knew the chip had been implanted, but a leak from The New York Times may have clued her in.

An Internet article by a highly honored Urban Legend blogger and frequent guest on the Art Bell Show revealed to journalists at the Times how Bush has been fascinated by government attempts to monitor her actions near the Texas White House.

Meanwhile medical experts feared that Sheehan may have actually gnawed her foot off after reading the Times article exposing a plot to spy on self proclaimed anti-war leaders such as herself.

The poison bait, dubbed the "Magic Christian" by federal agents, was grabbed by Sheehan at President Bush’s State of The Union Address last night when she showed up at the yearly event.

Sheehan entered the event with what she thought to be a hand written invitation by DNC chairperson, Howard Dean.

The letter asked her to honor her presence with a catchy t-shirt message proclaiming the war to be a military debacle and to make sure she sat in the balcony where the cameras could clearly spot her.

Sheehan did in fact attend the political event with a design on her shirt showing Saddam Hussein and John Kerry running hand in hand carrying a sign that said 2,245,000, give or take a million or so.

FBI agents quickly grabbed her and sent her off to a secret internment camp in Oregon where nearly 45,000 black activists are being kept after receiving numerous false invitations, presumably signed by black activist, Dick Gregory.

Ginsberg Shreds Her Robes and Resigns As Justice

Washington D.C.

After Samuel Alito’s smooth 58 to 42 victory in the Senate today, Ruth Bader Ginsburg ripped off her robe, then angrily denounced the admission of, "A racist male who believes in rusty coat hangers for women, bull whips for African-Americans and refused admissions for young gays to the Boy Scouts."

Ginsberg, who was watching the proceedings from the Kennedy Room of The Sunken Car Bar in Bethesda, Maryland, said this was America’s most lamentable moment in the 73 years she has walked the earth.

With a heavy heart Ginsberg walked down the worn red carpet full of cigar scorch marks towards the podium, and with her trademark black dress, silk scarf and tight buns, in her hair, she looked at the defeated crowd with words of that of a woman who once held the court in awe.

"I carefully examined the New Testament and can relate to how grieved the rulers of Israel became when that Jesus of Nazareth guy said he was their new leader," Ginsberg told reporters. "When they saw the course of history changing before their eyes, they renteth their garments, and shall so I."

Alito carried the notorious red states of middle America where values have been spoon fed to them for generations, while the blue states carefully reasoned with their intellect and voted strongly against the New Jersey lawyer.

While hugging the portrait of the first black Jewish president, William Jefferson Clinton and wiping tears from her eyes, Ginsberg vowed she will resign her position as Supreme Court Judge this afternoon.

"I am going to partner up with my son who is struggling in the recording business," Ginsberg said. "His music choices have been magnificent, but for whatever reason, the public hasn’t noticed his talents."

Last week Ginsberg’s son, Allen, signed Janet Reno to a new recording contract after her wildly acclaimed musical debut.

Reno’s blusey rendition of Aritha Franklin’s Respect and Billy Holiday’s, God Bless’ The Child, brought a standing ovation last week on the very stage Ginsberg angrily ripped off her robe and announced her resignation.

In the Billboard charts, Reno's number one hit as of today is Ode To Billy Joe.

Shreds of Ginsberg's robe will be posted on e-bay.

President Bush in a written correspondence to Ginsberg said, "Her jovial laughter and tight hairdo will be missed. Good luck and please wait for about five years before releasing another one of those dreadful New York Times best sellers."

"The time has come and with heavy heart I can only hope to see each and every one of you in the trenches of liberal warfare," Ginsberg said, as she laid down the mike and silently left the stage minus her black robe.

There is no word yet from the White House of another possible replacement.

Mouse Once Feared To Be Extinct May Save Kennedy Memorial

Los Angeles

A small rodent may save the crumbling Ambassador Hotel from certain destruction, the Kennedy family announced Thursday at a sparsely packed news conference attended by Diane Keaton, who has often pleaded with city officials not to destroy the building.

The Los Angeles sight of Robert F. Kennedy’s assassination has fallen pray to urban decay, allowing strip clubs, drug dealers and illegal migrant worker’s flea markets to prosper over the last several years.

Kennedy was assassinated while roaming the pantry after midnight by Sirhan Bishara Sirhan, a 25-year-old Palestinian immigrant.

A family spokesman said there has been great concern that a threat to build a public school on the grounds may somehow destroy the solemn reminder of the tragedy that took place there sometime in the last century.

"The 60's did not bode well for our family," Ted Kennedy said, as he fell from the podium.

A recent discovery shadowed by controversy may save the crumbling building from certain demolition.

A drug user, known only by Rat Man, has been training acrobatic mice to perform on street corners during the cover of darkness, when traffic is highest along the fenced in-garbage strewn hotel compound where drug starved hookers congregate.

When a PETA volunteer drove downtown to check out rumors the rodents were working for sub-standard wages, they discovered the mice to be the rare Preble’s meadow jumping mice that recently shut down the Bush Administration's efforts to develop homes, mines, airports, hospitals and any other development sutuble for human habitation in the western section of United States.

The Preble’s meadow mouse was thought to be extinct because Red Tailed Hawks would easily swoop down on the mice every time the little critters jumped into the air.

Biologists say some of the mice have been known to use their powerful tail and hind legs to lift them aloft three feet into the air, causing them to become a flying meal.

The bearded Rat Man, who often sat on the corner with a towel wrapped around his loins and a Christmas wreath over his snarly, greasy hair, has certain apprehensions about the Interior Department marking the roach infested building as a historical site.

"Man this dig, ya dig, is my home and when the mother ship comes they may not recognize my digs, ya dig," Rat Man said, during the press conference.

The Kennedy family has feared the battered equipment in the hotel pantry would end up on e-bay along with the fenders, bumpers, seat cushions and hanging dice salvaged from Ted Kennedy’s car.

"We want our family to be remembered as heroes that saved our nation from the encroachment of conservatives like Barry Goldwater from Arizona or someplace or other," Ted Kennedy said, waving a picture of a 1959 family reunion where the face of Jacqueline Kennedy had been removed with an Exacto Knife.

A biologist from the Los Angeles Zoo said the Preble’s mouse has never been known to exist in the LA Basin and has likely been captured in southern Colorado and planted there to save the structure.

Ted Kennedy said that was asinine and reminiscent of hate speech, the likes not heard since George Bush said he hated colored folks and hoped they would all drown in New Orleans as Katrina swept towards their city.

Kennedy also added, as he was passing out, the nominating vote for Alito should be postponed for 30 days so pregnant women could hurry and get their abortions and also called for a ban on the sale of coat hangers at Wal-Mart.

Diane Keaton was escorted off the hotel property by security guards after the conference when she errected a tent and promised an aide of hers would sleep there until the murderous Bush family rebuilds the hotel and removes the troops from Iran.

Still Learnin' After All These Years

Over the past week or so I busied myself writing satire. Sometimes I need to lift my soul from the dark side and bring rays of sunshine to my readers (ya right). This is an article published numerous times, no politics, no sarcasm. Just fun.

Just a few weeks ago a brilliant thought flashed through my head. Believe it or not, upon occasion I am prone to great thoughts. Trouble is when great thoughts come knocking on my front door I am nowhere to be found.

This fleeting thought pertained to a passage from Robert Fulghum's book, "All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten."

The book, at one time, could be found in my personal library, so the elusive paperback should have been right at my fingertips, but it wasn't. Still I have a few recollections of the substance of the book so let us go back and reflect on Fulghum's basic points of kindness.

Share everything.
Play fair.
Don't hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don't take things that aren't yours.
Say your sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
Warm cookies and milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life-learn some, think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and everyday work some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out into the world, watch for traffic, hold hands and stick together.

I never went to kindergarten and thank God they never had day care in post-war America. Being deprived of all that early intervention pablum, I still managed to learn a thing or two, after all, a considerable amount of Iowa farm girls went on to be great and famous people--I just can't recall anyone at this moment.

Still, there is more to life than warm cookies and cold milk. It took several bumps on the road of life to learn the principals of survival and gain such great wisdom, so when I finally compose a book it will be entitled, "A Couple of Things I Happen To Figure Out One Day and Since I Had A Pencil On Me I Thought Perhaps I would Write Them Down."

The following are a few deep meaningful insights I have found to be of great significance:
Money is of little value if you don't have any.
God forgives, people don't.
If you go to see just one movie this year, I bet it will turn out to be lousy.
Be kind to everyone you meet. They may kick you in the shins, but you can limp down the path of righteousness.
When you live in a small town, don't talk about people, everyone is related.
Don't move to a small town because if you are not related to anyone, everyone talks about you.
If you own anything, give it away. If not someone will tax it, take it or both.
Don't play the lottery because you will never win, but if you do, I travel well.
Laugh at your bosses jokes.
Don't laugh at your boss.
Never chew Copenhagen.
Never kiss a man who chews Copenhagen.
Never kiss a girl who chews Copenhagen.
Never look over your shoulder because the Grim Reaper will make eye contact.
Placing your finger in a light socket to see if it is working is a very stupid act.
Don't take any wooden nickels but grab all the twenties you can.
Never start anything you can't finish.
Never open a bottle of wine.

There are many more nuggets of wisdom firmly ensconced in my head, but if I give them all away I will never sell my book and get on Oprah.

Other books my agent has shown interest in are, "Chicken Soup for the Stomach," and "Everything You Wanted To Know About Poverty But Were Afraid to Ask." I'm working on "MS for Dummies."

Perhaps you think my views on life are a bit odd. You are right. Remember, I never went to kindergarten so the concept of not playing in traffic alludes me and I do recall slugging a few nincompoops along the way.
I agree napping is heaven sent. An afternoon nap is almost better than chocolate. The idea of sharing everything is great, but just why does everyone share my stuff. As far as washing hands before eating, you provide the food and I'll bring the soap.

Now that is the way I see life, being my days behind me are greater than the days ahead. Now it is time to dance some, sing some, and just where did I place them warm cookies.