Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies
Wandering Soul Blog
Monday is the start of Indictment Week in Georgia.
To help you follow along as the accused are charged, I have prepared an e-book with the indictment. (Available on Amazon for $1.29)
It is also available in print form on Amazon:
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Everything Trump Touches Dies
RUDOLPH GIULIANI
-Manhattan College/NYU (JD)
-2 children
-US Attorney SDNY
-Prosecuted Gotti
-Mayor NYC
-Time person of the Year 2001
-Lawyer/Advisor to Trump
-Starred in Borat
-New York law license suspended
-Recommended for disbarment in DC
-Sued by Dominion for $1.3B
-Unindicted co-conspiritor Jan 6 Attack
-Charged with 13 felonies in Georgia including Racketeering, Conspiracy and lying.
JOHN EASTMAN
-Universisty of Dallas
-Claremont Grad School (PhD
-U of Chicago (JD)
-Clerked for Justice Thomas and Judge Luttig
-Dean Chapman U School of Law (Resigned under pressure)
-Attorney for Donald Trump
-Under investigation by CA Bar Assn.
-Unindicted co-conspiritor in Jan 6 investigation
-Facing 8 felony counts in Georgia including Racketeering, Conspiracy and lying.
KENNETH CHESEBRO
-Northwestern U
-Harvard (JD)
-Worked 20 years for Constitutional Law Professor Lawrence Tribe
-Trump attorney
-Photographed at the January 6 Capitol attack
-Unindicterd co-conspiritor January 6 attack
-Architect of the FAKE electors scheme
-Facing 7 felony charges in Georgia to include Racketeering and Conspiracy
JEFFREY CLARK
-Harvard (BA)
-U of Delaware (MA)
-Georgetown (JD)
-Environmental Lawyer at DOJ
-Attempted to become Acting Attorney General
-Investigated for violastion of ethics rules by DC Bar and DOJ IG
-Unindicted co-conspiritor in January 6 investigation
-Facing 2 felony counts in Georgia including Racketeering
Jenna Ellis
-Colorado State
-U of Richmond (JD)
-Frequent cable news guest
-Trump Legal Advisor
-Censured by Colorado Supreme Court (2023)
-Facing 2 felony counts in Georgia to include Racketeering
SIDNEY POWELL
-UNC Chapel Hill (BA & JD)
-Former DOJ Prosecutor
-Trump election lawyer
-Sued by Dominion voting
-Sanctioned for baseless and frivolous election lawsuits in Michigan
-Unindicted co-conspiritor in January 6 investigation
-Facing 7 felony counts in Georgia to include Racketeering and Conspiracy
Gentle breezes softly blow,
Palm trees swaying to and frow.
Sand that glistens in the sun,
Little children having fun.
Overhead a seagull soars,
To the ocean’s mighty roars.
A Senorita with a rose,
From the one that she chose.
Toreador with crimson cape,
As El Toro’s hooves do scrape.
A cold Dos Equis with a lime,
In a place so sublime.
Street tacos from a cart,
Mariachis, sweet Mozart.
A cabana is the protocol,
For shelter from old Del Sol.
There’s no other place quite like this,
To spend a day is just pure bliss.
LDT August 19, ‘23
I spent a weekend in Ensenada back in ‘63.
I found it quaint and peaceful.
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Old Sam he had but three things that he held dear and true,
Had Jesus as his Savior, and a specked dog named Blue.
And when Sam took a drink, Budweiser was his brew,
Sometimes he would pass out before the night was through.
Now Blue, he was a Heeler, really just a mix,
They say he got old Sam out of nearly every fix.
Chasing sheep and cattle, he’d pen ‘em up real good,
Even when old Sam had drunk way more than he should.
Cold nights on the prairie, they’d sleep out on the ground,
Sam got pretty savvy when there weren’t no beer around.
“Blue, I’ll tell you sure, you ain’t no mangy cur,
Your love for me is pure, just like my dear Savior.
You can hold off the coyote, the wolf and the bear,
You can find the lambs and doggies, almost anywhere.
This life is kind of lonesome, and the grub it ain’t so good,
You warm me in the night when I’m out of wood.
And when we go to town, y’er always by my side,
Even when the Law makes me hafta’ hide.
You waited by the jail, when I couldn’t make my bail,
Blue, you never fail, in town or on the trail.
Only you and Jesus, don’t care about my smell,
And if it weren’t for you, I’d prob’ly go to Hell.
Your coat could stand a comb and my pants are fallin’ down,
Maybe you should wear your old collar as a crown.
In the mornin’ it’s you that will awaken me,
cuz’ you and Jesus have not forsaken me.
Now I’m gittin’ old and my days are growin’ short,
One day at the Pearly Gates, to Saint Peter I’ll report.
And he’ll prob’ly ask just how I made it through,
It wasn’t all that hard, I had Jesus, Bud and Blue!”
LDT August 12, ‘23
In memory of Sport (1993-2009)
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Beautiful lies, beautiful lies, tell us some more of your beautiful lies,
beautiful lies, beautiful lies, you’re gonna win the Pulitzer Prize.
You must believe that we’re not so wise,
so you fill us with beautiful lies.
Nothing compares to your genius,
there’s never a reason to make a fuss.
You never threw Pence ‘neath the bus,
you aren’t the slightest bit of pompous.
No one deceives better than you,
you are the opposite of what we hold true.
It’s a wonder that the lies that you spew,
never seem to catch up with you.
The People just stand there and listen in awe,
never doubting what comes from your jaw.
They don’t believe what they just saw,
you are their Leader without any flaw.
Those charges against you must be FAKE,
the Prosecutors can go jump in a lake.
If they cross you, it would be a mistake,
you can give out more than you take.
So, step to the dais and tell us some lies,
and never speak to our whats and our whys.
Beautiful lies, beautiful lies, tell us some more of your beautiful lies,
beautiful lies, beautiful lies, you are the Devil in a disguise.
LDT August 6, ‘23
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The Polar Bears and Penguins are sweatin’ up a storm,
meanwhile back in Podunk it’s never been this warm.
It’s a caldron outdoors, the drippin’ sweat just pours,
at the crowded shores, the temperature still soars.
There ain’t no end to the records that we break,
there’s nuthin’ we can do but sit here and bake.
It’s balmy in Iceland, Greenland is, well… green.
this drought is the worst that we have ever seen.
The Hurricanes are lined up a-waitn’ for their turn,
pretty some they’ll head out to make the water churn.
Canada’s on fire, the smoke is headed South,
cover up your nose and cover up your mouth.
The glaciers are all gone, your skis you’ll hafta’ pawn,
what’s hotter than Tucson? Maybe the Yukon.
The waters of the Gulf are like a big hot tub,
the algae and the seaweed causin’ a hubbub.
You need asbestos shoes to step upon the street,
or you’re gonna’ burn the bottoms of your feet.
There’s no relief in sight, ain’t much better in the night,
drinkin’ Gin and Sprite ain’t gonna make it right.
It’s maybe just Dog Days, or perhaps a global phase,
we can sit here in a daze, or make some peach parfaits.
Just turn the A/C on and wish the heat were gone,
or be like the Mastodon who crossed the Rubicon.
LDT July 25. ‘23
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Ain’t no trailer queen can match it,
ain’t no Corvette that can catch it,
The tires do not match,
and the fender has a scratch,
Rat Rod!…Rat Rod!….
Yes, it’s sorta’ odd.
It ain’t built for show,
but it’ll damn sure go,
The patina it can’t hide,
‘cuz the paint is cracked and dried,
Rat Rod!…Rat Rod!….
I know it’s kinda’ odd.
The engine ain’t so bright,
but it gives the cops a fright,
Both mufflers are blowed out,
bustin’ ears no doubt,
Rat Rod!…Rat Rod!….
Maybe it is flawed.
Four speed makes it swifter,
Eight Ball on the shifter,
Tractor grill up front,
this car has got some grunt,
Rat Rod!…Rat Rod!….
Wow and Oh, my God!
The seats are old and worn,
but it’s got an ooga horn,
The brakes are modern discs,
to minimize the risks.
Rat Rod!…Rat Rod!….
It needs another mod.
The floor is rusted out,
patched with tin and grout,
Some don’t know what it is,
but they can take a whiz,
Rat Rod!… Rat Rod!….
Ain’t no fake façade.
The owner will confess,
the title is a mess,
we don’t know what it was,
he built it just because,
Rat Rod!…Rat Rod!…
Let’s just all applaud.
LDT July 15, ‘23
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My new book, Banned in Florida is now available on Amazon.
There are two ways you can read it for free.
Banned in Florida: The Rhythm of My Soul Part III: Thill, Larry D: 9798397012539: Amazon.com: Books
Thanks,
LDT
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Hot cup of coffee, cool mornin’ air,
what little we got we’re willin’ to share.
The cattle are fat, the wheat’s turnin’ gold,
the sun on the mountain’s a sight to behold.
Root cellar’s full of the things that we canned,
lucky we found this good bottom land.
The Meadowlark sings on a fence post,
this year has been better than most.
The cabin is snug and the curtains are hung,
we built it all with the things that we brung.
The well came through and the water is fine,
better than dinkin’ that that old alkaline.
Next year we’ll prove up, but we ain’t done,
we’ll build an addition to house everyone.
Hot cup of coffee, cool mornin’ air,
I’d rather be here than most anywhere.
LDT July 13, ‘23
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In the winter of 1864-65, my Great-Great Grandfather, Reuben DeLay, was confined to the Confederate prison called Camp Asylum in Columbia, South Carolina. One of his fellow prisoners was S. H. M. Byers who had been captured at Missionary Ridge in the Battle for Chattanooga. Byers and DeLay like most of the prisoners had been confined in Georgia during the previous summer. As General Sherman took Atlanta and began his march to the sea, the prisoners were moved out of the path of his advancing army. The prisoners kept informed of Sherman’s progress from newly captured comrades and southern newspapers smuggled into the prison. The papers tried to paint Sherman as losing every battle, but the prisoners could see that the battles were moving across Georgia toward the sea. Eventually, the Confederate papers admitted that Sherman had reached the sea at Savannah.
The news of Sherman’s successful campaign hit the 1500 or so Union officers incarcerated at Columbia like a bolt of lightning. Though they didn’t know it yet, Sherman would soon turn north in his war-ending campaign through the Carolinas.
Byers was a bit of an amateur poet. He penned an inspiring poem about Sherman’s march and showed it to his comrades. It was called “Sherman’s March to the Sea.” The poem was the first time the phrase, “Sherman’s March to the Sea” had been used to describe Sherman’s march across Georgia. Prisoners made copies of the poem on any scrap of paper they could find and circulated it broadly.
Another talented officer put the poem to music. The prison Glee Club performed if for the first time to a crowd that included almost all of the prisoners, their guards and various spectators from the surrounding community. Reuben DeLay was undoubtedly in the crowd that heard the song that day.
Shortly afterward, a copy of the song was smuggled out of the prison in the wooden leg of a paroled prisoner. Once it reached Union lines, it was widely printed and distributed throughout The North. The sheet music was said to have been a million-seller.
For his achievement with the song Byers got one of the few privileges that could have been afforded to a prisoner. He got to sleep in the camp hospital building. By mid-February, 1865, Sherman’s army was threaten Columbia, Byers secreted himself in the building’s attic as the other prisoners (including my Great-Great Grandfather) were evacuated. Upon liberation, Byers wound up on Sherman’s staff for the remainder of the war. Though few remember Byers’ one hit wonder of 1865 now, there is another tune he wrote which is still sung in his home state of Iowa. “The Song of Iowa” is their state song.
Here’s a link to a youtube performance of |Sherman’s March to the Sea.” (222) 3237. Sherman’s March to the Sea (by S. H. M. Byers) – YouTube
Here are the lyrics:
LDT July 10, ’23
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Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies