Thoughts and Prayers

He had a sweet smile,

  you could see for a mile.

Her ponytail just danced,

  like pixies that pranced.

Not a cross word,

  was ever heard.

Their sanctum serene,

  away from the mean.

Now cards and letters and prayers,

  tell us that somewhere someone cares.

Flower bouquets so fragrant and nice,

  evoking memories of sugar and spice.

A baseball cap from a favorite team,

  tells us about a little boy’s dream.

The tennis shoes she wore on that day,

  perfect for the games that she’d play.

The brave teacher who shielded them all,

  she probably was the first one to fall.

Sleeping softly in the arms of the Lord,

  protected by his righteous sword.

Missed by the playmates who don’t understand,

  mourned by hypocrites all over the land.

So, tell me how your rights are foreclosed,

  by bodies so broken their caskets are closed?  

LDT April 21, ‘23

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Banned in Florida

Our library shelves are bare, with no books to share,

  don’t you say it’s not fair, ‘cuz we don’t even care.

We won’t admit that our state waited so long to integrate.

  it’s not so bad that we hate, those who got here late.

Rosa Parks wasn’t Black, she shoulda’ stayed in back,

  and don’t be taken aback, by all the guns that we pack.

No guilt should we endure, when Ruby Bridges caused a stir,

  it was just some racial slur, that Grandma yelled at her.

Disneyland is so woke, we’ll see that it goes broke,

  their charter we’ll revoke, under our righteous cloak.

That Rebel flag is ours, though we have hidden the stars,

  we still have the bars, denoting slavery’s scars.

Global Warming’s a joke, we hate it ‘cuz it is “woke”,

  we don’t care if we croak, or the Glades go up in smoke.

Let no one take a knee, as we sink into the sea,

  if you act differently, we’ll tell you where to pee.

And if you should say “Gay”, there’ll be hell to pay,

  and oh, by the way, we will compel you to pray.

And it is our sacred right, to shoot up your Bud Light.

  and if you give us a fright, we’ll shoot at you on sight.

You can also count on us, to control your uterus,

  if you should make a fuss, we’ll throw you under the bus.

We’ve got our Mango Man, with his top-secret plan,

  everything he’ll ban, except for the Ku Klux Klan.

Pudding Fingers is our Gov, he don’t like who you love,

  he hears voices from above, but it’s not a heavenly dove.

At the only Circus in town, there’s our carnival barking clown,

  our Condos are falling down, Gators and snakes abound.

We anxiously await each new ban, as more stuff hits the fan,

  here comes Hurricane Stan, she might be some kinda’ Tran.

The Sunshine State will be fine, stuck where the Sun don’t shine,

  as we slowly sink in the brine of our receding shoreline.

LDT April 18, ‘22

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Crypto

(Or Why I Hate John Walker)

A handcuffed John Walker being led into court.

     Keeping your plans an operations secret from the enemy is an essential part of military security. If your enemy knows your plan or your operational problems, he can devise his own plan to counter them and exploit your weaknesses. Ciphers have been used for millennia to keep military foes in the dark. Washington used letter-substitution cipher keys to communicate with his spies. By the Civil war both sides were using ciphers to encrypt telegraphic messages.

     Intercepting and decoding the enemy’s most secret messages is an essential component of counter-intelligence. It has never been easy, but the strategic benefits can be enormous. In 1917, the Allies were on the verge of losing World War I. Fortunately, the British had access to the underwater cables being used by the Germans to transmit messages to non-aligned countries. The Germans were so confident of their cryptography, that they routinely sent such messages through neutral American lines to communicate with their embassy in Mexico. Unbeknownst to the Huns, the British were intercepting and decoding their messages. Then the German Foreign Office sent the infamous Zimmerman Note proposing that Mexico join the Central Powers in the war and gain the return of Texas, Arizona and New Mexico as their reward. Not wanting the Germans to know that their code had been compromised, the British broke into the German Embassy in Mexico City and stole a copy of the message. This, they shared with President Wilson. The decoded message along with the resumption of unrestricted submarine warfare led directly to America’s entrance in the war. The rest was history. Thanks to America’s help, the Allies won.

     By the time World War II had begun, cryptography had become more sophisticated. The Germans had a machine called Enigma that encoded and decoded messages as they were sent. The Nazis blithely assumed the machine and its code was unbreakable. They were wrong. Thanks to some help from the vanquished Poles and French, the Brits had a good idea of how the Enigma machine worked. They established a team at Bletchley Park under the leadership of mathematician Alan Turing. The team developed a massive early computer to break the code. They called their decrypts “Ultra”. Countless British and Allied war operations and countermeasures resulted from these decrypts. In the Battle of the Atlantic, intercepts from German U-Boats made convoys safer and nearly extinguished the threat by sending hundreds of subs to the bottom of the ocean.

     America had its own decryption successes in the Pacific during World War II. We decoded the diplomatic message telling the Japanese Embassy in Washington to break off relations on December 7, 1941. The U.S. Navy broke the Japanese Naval Code, leading to our victory at Midway. Our own cryptographic efforts remained relatively secure during the war. The Marine Corps used Navajo Code Talkers to devise an unbreakable code used in the Pacific Theater.

     In a way, I was a newer version of a Code Talker when I served in the Marine Corps in the 1960’s. Part of my job was repairing the KW-7 Crypto device. The “Seven” was cutting-edge for its time. Using transistorized circuitry, it far exceeded the ability of earlier encryption devices to encode teletype messages. Its main components were solid state flip flop switches that scrambled and unscrambled the inputs and outputs of traditional teletype machines. It was compact, quiet and had no moving parts. The circuitry inside was classified as Confidential. Each day it was programmed with a key list using patch cords to re-rout the signals to the internal components. The key-lists were normally classified as Secret. Messages requiring a higher level of classification were double encrypted. This means they were encrypted in five letter code groups before being sent over my machine. They were coded and decoded by a mechanical device somewhat similar to a German Enigma machine. (I can tell you this without fear of getting a knock on my door tomorrow from the FBI. The Kw-7 has long-since been de-classified.) The KW-7 turned out to be an incredibly reliable device. I spent most of my Marine Corps career drinking coffee and delivering messages to staff offices and various subordinate units. I got out of the Corps in 1966. I soon forgot about my electronics training and the machines I worked on.

     In the mid-1980’s I was working in Frankfurt Germany. Walking out of the rear of the Abrams Building, where the U.S. Army’s Fifth Corps was headquartered, I happened to notice two G.I.s loading some grey box-like items in the back of an enclosed truck. I had to get a better look. Yes, they were KW-7’s. “How could the U.S. military still be using this antiquated device in the age of computers?” I asked myself. Enter John Walker.

     John Anthony Walker Jr. was a U.S. Navy Warrant Officer. Like me, he worked in Communications. Like me, he had access to cryptographic devices and other classified materials. We went to the same Cryptographic Equipment Repair Course at Mare Island Naval Shipyard one year apart. To most, he seemed like a good sailor, working his way up the ranks. To supplement his income, Walker opened a bar in Charleston, South Carolina. His wife helped him run it. She drank too much. The bar was losing money.

     In 1967, at the height of the Vietnam War, Walker approached the Russian Embassy in Washington, D.C. He had information. He brought a photocopy of a secret document to establish his credentials. Were they interested? The Russian Security Officer was elated. He gave Walker a spy camera and a crash course in secret drops. Then Walker was snuck out of the embassy in a car. Walker would supply the Russians with the Tech Manual for the KW-7 and the daily key lists for the next twenty years as well as many other classified documents. Almost immediately, North Korean forces attacked and captured the USS Pueblo, an American electronic spy ship operating in international waters. Their haul of sensitive materials included two KW-7’s. From that point on, the Russians knew damn near everything about our military. Troop deployments, ship locations, operational plans, intelligence assessments, the list went on forever. American military operations throughout the globe were deeply compromised. We may never know how many missions in Vietnam went awry because of Walker’s treason.

     No one noticed when Walker began showing signs of sudden affluence. His past money problems over, he learned to fly and bought an airplane. Walker went on to recruit his best friend, Jerry Whitworth, into his growing spy ring. His brother Arthur, a retired Lieutenant Commander with access to classified information on submarine design, joined up. Then Walker recruited his own son who had joined the Navy. Finally, his ex-wife Barbara had had enough. She got drunk and called the FBI.

     Walker was eventually arrested in 1985. He avoided the death penalty through a plea bargain that helped U.S. authorities assess the damage he had done to our security. His friend Jerry, his brother and his son all received long prison terms. His ex-wife got to keep his Navy retirement pension for her cooperation.

     After the end of the Cold war, a Russian general was asked, “What would have happened if we had gone to war with Russia during the time of Walker’s spying?”

“We would have won,” was his answer.

John Walker died in prison in 2014.

LDT July 8, ‘21

For more information: Family of Spies: Inside the John Walker Spy Ring. Peter Early. (2012)

Postscript: Since the circuitry of the KW-7 was classified, I always worked on them inside of a Crypto Vault. I was often alone. Recently, a former Navy Cryptographer told me that no one is allowed to be in the vault by themselves. There is always another person there to ensure that documents can’t be photographed or stolen. This simple rule would have prevented John Walker’s treason.

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A Cold Bud Light

Kid Rock with a cold Bud Light and a Drag Queen

As I sit here tonight with this cold Bud Light,

  I feelin’ just right, a-gittin’ half tight.

Drinkin’ this brew is the right thing to do,

  and if you feel blue, I’ll share one with you.

Rained half the day, saw a rainbow display,

  don’t let your dismay, keep your skies gray.

Let’s all do our thing, with no mud to sling,

  no puppet on a string, made you the damn king.

Don’t you take a fright, or get filled with spite,

  It may not be right, but I’ll drink my Bud Light.

LDT April 14, ‘23

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Bullhook Blues

Cowboys and Indians, Silver Dollar Bar,

  where no one cares if you ain’t a star.

Great Northern freight a-chuggin’ on through,

  our dads and our uncles were part of the crew.

Glass block sidewalks lit up the underworld,

  where the seamy side of town was openly unfurled.

The paint was flakin’ off the grain elevator,

  tourists couldn’t wait to hit the accelerator.

There’s a Buffalo jump at top of the hill.

  when they ran ‘em off it must’ been a thrill.

From a Hundred above to Fifty below,

  in the blazin’ heat or the driftin’ snow.

The people there were tough as an iron rail,

  weren’t no place for the weak or the frail.

We had a lot of fun at Kepper’s Roller Rink,

  the boy’s in their Levis, girls in pretty-pink.

Stopped in at Clyde’s for a burger and shake,

  everything you wanted they’d be glad to make.

The Super Ice Cream Parlor was the place to be,

  they said that Buddy Holley looked a lot like me.

Sittin’ in our cars across from the school,

  smokin’ Lucky Strikes, thinkin’ we were cool.

And where we got our gas nobody knows,

  a five-gallon can and a piece of garden hose,

Cruisin’ the drag to Buttrey’s parkin’ lot,

  late in the night we were hot to trot.

The Lancers and Playboys had the coolest cars,

  at Beaver Creek they raced underneath the stars.

We had a few keggers out by Saddle Butte,

  if the cops showed up, we’d all have to scoot.,

Parkin’ and sparking by the water tower,

  she had to go home at the Midnight Hour.

Cheered’ for the Ponies to go on to state,

  hoped that someday we’d get to graduate.

We raised our voices up to the sky,

  with Beer, Beer for old Havre High!

Sneakin’ in to the drive-in picture show,

  ‘tll ol’ Duncan M. said we had to go.

The college boys rode the old Goose bus,

  and sometimes they threw snowballs at us.

Oh, how I long for the good old days,

  seems like I drifted such a long ways.

Bullhook Bottoms was where I called home,

  I sorta’’ miss it, no matter where I roam.

LDT April 12, ‘23

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Ketchup

Ketchup

Ketchup on the wall.

What a way to fall!

He can’t get out of it,

He threw a hissy fit.

It’s never a good look,

When they throw the book.

A crying shame it is,

False records for his biz.

Stormy ain’t his type,

After all the hype.

If he don’t make his bail,

It’s Riker’s Island Jail.

Some say he’s innocent,

Of all the laws that he bent.

MAGA sends their dough,

For what they don’t even know.

May justice still be served,

And decency preserved.

I oughta shed a tear,

And drink another beer.

LDT March 31, ‘23

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Ruby

Ruby Bridges being escorted into Franz Elementary School by
Federal Marshals. (Norman Rockwell painting 1960)

When little Ruby went to school,

  segregation was the rule.

They burned their crosses on her lawn,

  when she looked, they were gone.

She still marched, books in hand,

  to make a difference in this land.

At six years old she faced the hate,

  one more school to integrate.

Now some would hide her story from,

  and force our teachers to stay mum.

What is the harm, this child so brave,

  to the rebel flag that you wave?

LDT March 30, ‘23

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Ringo

John M. (1968)

He had a horse and a saddle, a pick-up truck and more,

And when it came to wranglin’ he sorta’ knew the score.

Wore a big ol’ Stetson hat with the finest leather boots,

His Levis fit him better than your Brooks Brothers suits.

He looked like he grew up out on the open range,

Turned out his background was really kinda’ strange.

He grew up in New Jersey, but he never did fit in,

‘cuz spittin’ on the sidewalk is really quite a sin.

He mighta hailed from Trenton or the Jersey shore,

But he probably read too much of  Louie L’Amour.

Were Gunsmoke and Paladin his favorite TV shows?

Did he bug his parents to get some cowboy clothes?

Becuz the Garden State is long way from the plain.

He headed West to ride with the likes of Larry Kane.

He learned to chew tobacco and roll a cigarette,

He could rope and tie a calf and make a poker bet.

When he got bucked off, he always got back on,

‘cept that time he got up and his horse was gone.

Some found him sorta’ daffy, some say he talked a lot,

But out here on the range he found his perfect spot.

His leather belt was lettered like a doggie with a brand

And some held the notion he was a damn good hand.

I can see him in the Bear Paws singing cattle calls,

Two thousand miles away from New Jersey’s ivy walls.

A cowboy ain’t someone who fits inside a box,

He just punches cattle instead of punchin’ clocks.

LDT March 18, ‘23

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Recall Tom

Cochise County Supervisor Tom Crosby being told by Judge McGinley
to certify the 2022 election results. Credit: Mark Levy Herald Review.

Tom Crosby is such a flake,

  much the same as Kari Lake.

Wouldn’t certify our ballot count,

  thought the law he could flaunt.

The Judge told him to go and vote,

  he disappeared like some old goat.

Our Election Admin he did slur,

  then the Brown Shirts threatened her.

Cost the county a Hundred Thou, 

  he doesn’t care about us now.

A million bucks in COVID relief,

  we don’t need it was his belief.

It’s time to sign for his recall,

  wish we could reject them all.

Like District Three’s Peggy Judd,

  who drug our county through the mud.

She thought she was on a roll,

  on J-Six at the Capitol.

Come help us save democracy,

  and thwart their lies and lunacy.

LDT March 18, ‘23

Citizens gather at the intersection of Fry and 92 to
Recall Tom Crosby
April 4, 2023

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More Political Poems: Rudy, Don Liz, etc.- Political Poems – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies (azrockdodger.com)

Horne’s Tip Line

Arizona School Superintendent Tom Horne has launched a tip line for parents to denounce teachers for teaching such degenerate concepts as “Social-Emotional Learning”.

It should be remembered that in 2012, then Attorney General Horne was caught red-handed by an FBI surveillance team for leaving the scene of a hit-and-run accident while visiting his mistress. The FBI was surveilling Horne as part of a campaign finance violation investigation.

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