Fifty years ago today, like every other American, I was shocked
by the sudden assassination of our young
president.... Boy, I bet everyone is really tired of that line. Why do we keep repeating that line? It's not like a lot of people who were older
than the president then are still alive now. Back in 1963, I certainly knew he wasn't that
young, hell, he was 46! I was ten at the
time and I knew that 46 was an age where you had probably already picked out
your tombstone.
Apropos of Nothing Whatsoever, (I
REALLY wish that 5 years ago, I had picked that for the name of this blog!),
Talking about the assassination suddenly reminded me of one of the great
moments in education. I was co-teaching
a course with another professor. I won't
mention her name, but she had her sense of humor surgically removed during grad
school.
In any case, several of our students
had experienced a vocabulary problem
while writing on a test about Phillip II of Macedonia, who had been
assassinated in 336 BC, possibly by his son, Alexander the Great. About half the class wrote that Phillip was
"assinated." The next time the
class met, I projected a picture of Phillip II.
I gave a brief, but bloody, description of exactly how he died. Then I clicked a button on the digital presenter
and it showed the next PowerPoint
slide, one that showed the same picture with a large caption underneath,
"Assassinated."
I let the students view this slide
for a while, then showed the next slide, one of Edward the II. Again I gave a brief description of his
unhappy life and his very brutal death.
Extremely disliked, King Eddy was imprisoned and eventually
murdered. According to some accounts, a
red hot poker was violently shoved up the royal rectum, possibly because it was
rumored that the king was a homosexual.
At this point, I clicked the button
for the next slide, one that showed the same picture of Edward II, but
underneath was the caption "Assinated." For several seconds, I flicked back and forth
between the two slides: Assassinated and
Assinated. On the next test, every
student got it right. I won't report the
other professor's comments.
Where was I? Oh yeah, 50
years ago. Strangely I was in the same
town as John F. Kennedy--at least for a little while. We both woke up that morning in Fort
Worth. While I went to class, the
president had breakfast, made a brief speech, declined to wear the cowboy hat
presented to him, then drove to Carswell AFB to board Air Force One for the
13-minute flight to Dallas. Yeah, that's
right--thirteen minutes. Nothing is more
presidential than flying in on your own plane.
I want to make it plain (pardon the sort-of pun) that Kennedy
left Forth Worth safely. He got shot in
Dallas--an event that, for years, changed the town's official motto from
"Where the West Begins" to "We Didn't Shoot Him."
And almost immediately, a cottage industry sprang up. There have been over a thousand books
written on who the "real" assassin was. For fifty years, nut cases with typewriters
(and, more lately, computers) have come up with some of the wildest damn
theories you can imagine. He was shot by
Cuban riflemen firing up from the storm drains.
(There are still NO storm drains in Dealey Plaza.) He was shot by the driver of his own
car. (That cost some nut job author some
long green: that secret service agent is still alive and promptly sued the
author.) You name it--it has been
written.
And the television documentaries that have been made! Two weeks ago, I set my Tivo to automatically
record any show where the description contained the word "Kennedy
Assassination." As I write this,
there are over three dozen shows recorded.
Amazing...
These ghouls should all be ashamed of themselves, endless
profiting from the assassination of the young president. Just because there is ca$h in the
a$$a$$ination....to....be....made.....
Millions perhaps...How much did Bill O'Reilly make from that book? And the movie deal?
Well, it is high time to finally tell the whole truth and nothing
but the truth. I am sure that all of us
have seen those horrendous black and white photos of the crowd outside Parkland
Hospital when
the news was finally released that the President had passed away. The camera then slowly pans the crowd,
showing the raw emotion of the gathered crowd.
At left, is one of those photos taken from the original CBS broadcast of
the crowd outside the Dallas hospital.
Notice how this unknown woman carefully places her hand over her
face to conceal her appearance. Trust
me, you cannot watch any of those documentaries without seeing her image. Could this actually be the true assassin
coming to the hospital to make sure she had accomplished her mission? Hiding in plain sight is the most effective
method of not being noticed. How else
did this person get to the hospital so quickly?
And just who
is she?
For the first time, I can reveal her true identity. Observe the photo to the right, taken at
roughly the same time. Does it look
familiar? Notice the thin build, the
cat's eye glasses, the short brown hair...
Who is this criminal mastermind?
The photo at the right is The Doc, my wife.
Oh sure, she "claims" she was 100 miles away in Wichita
Falls--a claim that that has obviously not withstood the test of time. Today, more than 50 years after the event,
and despite several Congressional investigations and the concerted efforts of
both the FBI and the Secret Service, not a single shred of evidence has been
unearthed that shows my wife was NOT in Dallas that fateful day.
And consider this: The Warren Report, at 1,354 pages, contains
not a single reference to my wife. A
coincidence? I think not. The failure of the FBI to even consider
interviewing her demonstrably proves she is part of the giant conspiracy
to conceal the truth.
This is real proof.
Crystal clear photographs--not blown up sections of a lousy Zapruder
film so fuzzy that if you squint your eyes just right you can find an image of
anything from a duck to Elvis. And both
of these photos are absolutely provable to have been made in Texas!
I have more details, but I am not revealing them until I have
finalized my upcoming book contract. If
something should happen to me in the upcoming weeks, check the thermostat in
our home. Eager to conceal her dark
past, The Doc has been trying to freeze me to death for years.
That's the weirdest love letter to a spouse that I've ever read. Just to be on the safe side, I'm sharing this with our political discussion group, so that we can all keep a wary eye open in case the doc starts something.
ReplyDeleteI'm 63, and I remember very well the exact moment that I heard about JFK's death. Friday afternoon in a rural Ohio junior high school, American History class, and the principal interrupted to announce that the President had been shot! Killed!! American history being made at that very minute!!!
ReplyDeleteAt the time I was contemplating on how much Ginger B______'s breasts had grown since the previous summer. I don't remember the reaction of my classmates regarding the murder, but I'm sure that Ginger's balcony remained foremost in my mind. I still think about her now and then.
It's proof of Kennedy's overpowering historical presence, I'm sure, that I can't remember anything at all about any of the Presidential assassinations that have occurred since then...