Sarah Palin to Blame for Boston Bomb Blast

The internet is abuzz with invective against the innocent adherents of Allah for the heinous Boston Marathon bomb blast, but I, for the life of me, cannot figure out why.

The Boston bombs may have looked like an
Al Qaeda recipe, but Sarah Palin was behind it

Isn't it plain as day that Sarah Palin is to blame for this?

The ever-perspicacious scion of a CPUSA family, David Axelrod, came close to this nugget of truth when he proclaimed that the pressure cooker bomb culprits were undoubtedly tax protesters.

After all, the dastardly deed occurred on April 15th, a day when libertarians, conservatives and other assorted kooks customarily hover around post offices handing out Grover Norquist's anti-tax screeds to last minute 1040-EZ filers.

And who, more than anyone, has been fanning the flames of this perverse anti-tax hysteria?

Sarah Palin, of course.

Think back to January 8 of 2011 when Congresswoman Gabby Giffords was shot inside an Arizona shopping mall. The emergency room doors had barely swung closed on her incoming gurney when the mainstream media was out in force blaming the shooting on Sarah Palin.

The sage from Wasilla was roundly excoriated for having put the leftish Congresswoman on a campaign "Target" list and thereby creating a vicious and hateful climate that led directly to the shopping center slaughter.

Even Chicago's WGN radio was handed over to the vehement outrage of dim-witted jock turned Saturday fill-in broadcaster, one Alex Quigley, who went into a 10 minute on-air harangue blaming the shooting on Palin.

The evildoer was later found to be a demented heavy metal music fan of leftist political bent, but...... never mind.

So forget the fact that even CNN is saying that Boston bombs "seem very similar to one(s) that al Qaeda has recommended to its supporters around the world."

No Moslem terrorism here.

Let's jump on the bandwagon with Axelrod and the nincompoops at Salon magazine and start searching for crazed right-wing tax protesters.

And let's blame Sarah Palin for egging them on.

David Axelrod's Communist and Commie-Inspired Mentors

David Axelrod, the Chicago-based political operative who serves as Barack Obama's Svengali has long been rumored to be a "Red diaper baby," i.e. one brought up from childhood by Communist parents and mentors.

Axelrod, the man who whispers in Obama's ear
was mentored by David Canter, a Soviet Agent

Now, Paul Kengor a professor of political science at Grove City College has published an exhaustive analysis of Axelrod's mentorship by people with strong Communist Party USA ties, including one who was brought by his American Communist family to live in Stalin-era USSR and who was later deemed an agent of the Soviet Union by an arm of the US Congress.

The 12 page article appears as the cover story of the March issue of the American Spectator and it makes for riveting reading.

Axelrod got his start as a big-time reporter for the Chicago Tribune on the recommendation of leftist Don Rose. Axelrod had previously worked for the Hyde Park-Kenwood Voices, a local paper owned by Rose and David Canter, the Soviet educated son of overt American Communists, who was himself deemed a Soviet agent by the Democrat-controlled Congress of the 60s.

These were the people who forged Axelrod, the man who whispers in Obama's ear.

The American Spectator article is likely the most in-depth look at the Communist influences on Obama's key operative that will appear in print.

It analyzes everything from Axelrod's mother's work for the communist infiltrated New York PM publication to his own key role in electing Harold Washington Chicago's mayor.

It is well worth reading. Especially since the Chicago Tribune, New York Times and Washington Post regularly do puff pieces on Obama's guru without even hinting at facts which point to his undeniably deeply red roots.

That Vacuous 60s Counterculture

I recently stumbled into a remarkable little shop on Oakton St. in Skokie. It had the effect of compelling me to recollect on my days as a boy growing up in that vast cultural wasteland known as the 1960s.

The newly opened shop, Selective Memories Resale and Collectables, deals in assorted bric-a-brac, junque, collectibles and objects d'art and is heavy on 60s memorobilia.

It is run by an effusively genial 50 something guy, Dave Zorig, who exudes a genuine love of pop antiquity.

His recently deceased dad, one of the very few American existentialists I have ever heard of (he was reading a volume of Sartre's scribblings when he passed on,) actually invented a primitive version of the rock video in the 60s. The geniuses at the mobbed-up Chicago juke box companies passed on the invention. They said that kids would never want to watch rock musicians perform to their music. This was 15 years before MTV and VH1.

Maybe that kind of foresight explains why Sam "MOMO" Giancana's social club and benevolent society has been in a precipitous decline since about that very time.

So Dave reported to me that he was personal friends with several members of the flash-in-the-pan pop group the Turtles, and gets a lot of their memorobilia to vend.

We began discussing several of their hits from the 1966-67 timeframe and for the rest of the day those Turtle songs kept running thru my head.

There is a name for this phenomena, but I forget what it is. If you doubt it exists, just go to one of the McDonald's that plays tapes of oldies music and tell me that for the next 24 hours your brain is not running a non-stop reel of, "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."

So this got me thinking about the caliber of lyricism that formed the sound track of the antics of that "smartest generation," of the 60s.

Take this gem from the Turtles"



"Eleanor, Gee I think you're swell
And you really do me well
You're my pride and joy etcetera."

"Etcetera!!!???"

Aside from the fact that the only person I ever heard of in the 60s who still used the term "swell," was Judy Garland's little peach, Liza, "Etcetera" as the end of a lyric?

What that says to me is major intellectual and artistic laziness. It also says that the kids who ate this stuff up and plunked down hard cash for the vinyl discs were about as discerning as West Virginia hayseeds.

Can you imagine Cole Porter writing:

"I love Paris in the morning when it drizzles
I love Paris in the evening when it sizzles
I love Paris every moment
Every moment etcetera."

A poll of 60s college students taken at the time found that they rated Bob Dylan as the greatest poet of all time. Move aside Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson. Who needs Shakespeare's sonnets when you can ponder:

"I don't want to meet your kin
make you spin or do you in."

Paul Simon once expressed irritation that his peers were attributing great profundity to his lyrics and said that could only be because the vast majority of rock lyricists were quasi-literate nincumpoops.

They were and we bought it.

And now the unreconstructed countercultural gnomes of the 60s are tenured professors who dominate our universities and senior executives at our major news organs.

What is more frightening, is that in the incarnation of David Axlerod and Bill Ayres, they have the ear of the young, inexperienced, coffee-complected nincumpoop-in-chief.