Hey Barack! All You Need Is Love, Love, Love

It used to be, love me, love my dog. Now you’d better love your country just like me, or nobody else will ever love you… A personal message to Rudy Giuliani in the form of a quickie history lesson about love of country and his future as a figure whom future generations can love.

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Memo: To Rudy Giuliani

Re: Love

Dear Rudy,

Could you take a moment from your busy day of sniping to join us for a brief stroll through history?

I hate to break it to you. But, you, alas, are not the first to speak of undying love of country.

Someone beat you to it.

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The shadow of greatness in such matters falls on a certain Nicholas Chauvin. He served gallantly in the army of the First Republic and the Empire under Napoleon. Severely wounded, he retired with little more than a ceremonial saber, a medal, and a meager pension.

Chauvin, however, continued to bask in the glory of the war and his idolatry of Napoleon, so much so, that he became the laughing stock of his village.

Soon he attained national prominence, dramatists making him the subject matter of a number of comedies, lampooning his undying affection for the Emperor. His name then became synonymous with fanatical and unreasoning patriotism, making chauvinists of us all.

Count among them Stephen Decatur, the American naval hero, who counseled excess with “…our country, right or wrong.”

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Somewhat less flamboyantly, Francis Bellamy, a Baptist Minister, also exhorted simple loyalty in his Pledge of Allegiance to the United States. Penned in a mere three hours, to honor the 400th anniversary of Columbus’ discovery of America, the twenty three word composition was first published in 1892 in the magazine, Youth’s Companion.

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Twenty years earlier, however, it took an immigrant, Carl Schurz, to set things right. Schurz was a German revolutionary, American statesman and reformer, U.S. Minister to Spain, Union Army General in the American Civil War, U. S. Senator, and Secretary of the Interior. He apparently had a few credentials to back him up. What exactly did he say? Oh yes: “Our country right or wrong! When right to be kept right; when wrong, to be put right.”

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You pays yer money and takes yer choice. I guess it’s a no-brainer as to where you stand, Rudy.

Chauvin has had his day. He’s come and gone— he’s so yesterday. Are you ready to step into his big boots and take your proper place in history?

Let’s launch the campaign now. It’s time we all began using the term, “Gulianists.” It’s a fitting tribute to you Rudy. You even have the proper Latin rudiments in your name, further underscoring your roots in this matter. It’s the Latin rudis,”rude.”

These same roots will forever remind us how you really made your name. So that when your biography is written, we’ll make sure to start and end each sentence with Nine-eleven.

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Fifty Shades of Marina: The New Literary Sensation

Eat your heart out E.L. James! Move on over. There’s a new book in town. A real slice of life– something everyone can sink their teeth into. Its heroine’s exploits dwarf those of Ana Steele. Its images will leave you speechless and crying for more. Destined to rock the literary world. For the first time ever, anywhere– right here– an insider’s look at a best seller in the making..

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I was only seventeen ( just about to turn 18) at the time, a mere waif, innocent and unfamiliar with the ways of the culinary world. My experience was limited to Chicken nuggets, Big Macs, Double downs, and Twinkies…What did I know?

I had just traded in my braces and training bra when Jimmy Bob and his fetish came into my life. I was totally unprepared for it. Nothing has been the same ever since.

I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was a warm spring night. Jimmy and I had just come back from the senior prom. He suggested we check out the scenery at the football field. I said, “Why not?”

Before I knew it I had fallen under his hypnotic gaze. There I lay, stretched out in his arms under the bleachers beneath the star-filled sky and the warm gaze of a full moon.

Slowly ever so tenuously, I reached out for Jimmy Bob’s hand. He said, “Close your eyes.” Before I knew it I felt something warm in my palm. I clenched it tight. It was a sensation which I was unfamiliar with–warm and squishy. Its aroma made me dizzy, carrying me to heights I had never known before…Canadian bacon and pineapple!

I hesitated for a moment. “Go ahead,” Billy Bob urged. “Take it in your mouth; curl your tongue gently about it; let your teeth sink into it ever so gently.” I took a cautious but resolute gobble, and in one fell swoop quickly devoured it.

OMG! I couldn’t stop with just one. I reached into the box and took out another… and another. The roof of my mouth burned with passion. There was no stopping. I was like an animal possessed. Such ecstasy! Such joy!

An empty cardboard box orbited in space, then fell to the ground, crumpled into a heap, lying there –empty and ravaged. I don’t remember much more about that evening, only Mama commenting about the lateness of the hour …and the tiny red stain on my skirt.

That’s my story–in a nutshell; or better yet, in a pizza box. That evening continues to eat away at me and me at it. I want not only to share it with you but with millions of others, especially pizza virgins, wherever they may be.

Guess what I’ll be doing on my summer vacation. Telling my story to the world, that’s what. I’m gonna work on my spellun’ and my grammur. My English Teecher, Miss Hokum, has suggested I blog my experience on Huffington Post. That sounds cool. After what I’ve been through, I’m sure I can huff and puff with the best of them…You betcha!

There’s a certain something in the air. If you sniff real hard, you can smell a best seller in the oven. Soon to be made into a major motion picture– coming to a theater near you.

Add it to the cart.

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