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Vicki Weeks, author of Code of Honor, who used to live in Key West and was a journalist here, replied to yesterday’s America’s Memorial Day – The Corporate Menace post at this website:
Thank you, Sloan, for pointing that out. It’s about time we stop “celebrating” Memorial Day with booze and burgers, and start recognizing it as an opportunity to call for a transition to a peacetime budget. While a rapacious covetessness still looms large in our never-ending quest for possession of other people’s natural resources resources, I fear we have gone much beyond that.
The military industrial complex has become so pervasive that it now forms the basis of a very large part of our national economy. In short, until we stop glorifying war and start building a peacetime economic structure, we can’t end our war making without putting our economy at substantial risk. So, yes, let us deeply honor those who have served, but let us also honor those who, whether having served in the military or not, now work to end the dominance of the war machine in our national life.
Hi, Vicki -
The draft-dodger Yale Whiz Kid II, G.W. Bush, not only got baited into going to war overseas, he spaced out, (as in intentionally ignored), Economics 101: you don’t cut corporate taxes and taxes on the rich when you are going to war. I didn’t have to major in Economics at Vanderbilt, what a waste of time and my father’s money, to know you raise taxes and cut government expenses to pay for wars.
That’s what America did during World War II, in which my father was an Army Air Corps navigator-bombardier on a B-29 stationed on Guam. He guided his aircraft to Japan a few times a week, at night, and he dropped the bomb payload.
Many years later, through a clearly angel-arranged event, a fellow in my father’s generation, whom I only had just met in the stream room of the Birmingham Downtown YMCA, asked me if I was the son of the same Sloan Bashinsky who had been in a B-29 squadron on Guam during World War II? I said yes.
The man said he was in a B-29 squadron on Guam during WW II. And, my father was always getting his B-29 lost on bombing missions and they had to return to Guam with their bombs and drop them at sea before landing, because it was not safe to land with a payload of bombs. He said it got to where no B-29 crew wanted my father on their aircraft, and HQ kept shifting him from B-29 to B-29 to keep him busy.
I know he was busy some of the time, because he brought back lots of black and white night photos of burning Japanese cities, which he had taken from his aircraft. He never would talk about his war experiences – my mother told me it had really bothered him to kill people he never saw. He was not on the B-29s which flew the two atomic bombs from Guam to Japan.
He came home after the war ended and got a detached retina, which saved him from getting called back up during the soon to come Korean war. He was very opposed to the Vietnam war. And, he didn’t care for the first war against Iraq. By the second war against Iraq, we were estranged, so I never learned how he felt about 9/11 and the second Iraq war and the Afghanistan war.
Eventually, the angels told me the reason he kept getting his B-29s lost over the Pacific was his soul didn’t like killing people. I told him that in a letter from somewhere in the Pacific, in 2000. I imagined he wondered how in the dickens I had found out about that? I didn’t explain how in the letter. I suppose he learned how after he passed over in 2005.
I dunno, maybe his not liking to kill people was tied into the detached retina, and into something that happened one night on his B-29′s return to Guam from Japan. A propeller on the right wing flew off its housing and spun just barely over the airplane before plunging behind the left wing down into the Pacific. They made it back on three engines. If the spinning prop had struck the fuselage or a wing, they would have gone straight down into the sea. Maybe some of them would have had time to get out of the airplane and parachute down with an inflatable life raft and a walkie talkie, maybe not.
After publishing today’s post, to which you responded, I took a long nap, during which dreams provoked me to put up yet a second post today pretty much on same topic as this morning’s and yesterday’s posts, but coming at it from a different vector. I named it, “Y-Women: future-past – humanity’s salvation.” I think that link will take you to it. If the angels now will leave me alone, it will stay up.
The angels hardly left me alone. In fact, they traumatized me in dreams all last night, which caused me to add the ? to the title of what I posted yesterday (which made the link in my email to Vicki obsolete), and also caused me to revise the post, by beginning it with Vicki’s Y-mail to me and my reply, and my review Code of Honor at www.amazon.com:
not Mark Twain (my byline when I review Amazon books):
I met Vicki Weeks some years ago in Key West, where we both lived, and where I still live. After seeing a copy of her first novel, Code of Honor, lying around the house where I rent a room, light sleuth work revealed the book belonged to a good friend of Vicki’s, who also rents a room here. About 20 pages into the tale, I asked Vicki’s good friend if he knew whether Vicki had background in nursing or the US military? He said, no; people in the know had provided Vicki with technical and military background she needed to write the parts of the story with which she had no personal experience.
So what can I say about Vicki’s first novel? Except for the incongruent fling the hero had toward the very end of the tale, cheating on his beloved fiance, wrecking his own code of honor, I liked the tale. It read to me like a hired not even thinly-disguised hit job on George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, George W.’s father and mother, and the U.S. military-industrial complex, with a flashback hired hit job on Lyndon Baines Johnson and the US military-industrial complex of that era, for putting America into wars which never, ever, should have been allowed to happen.
Code of Honor sort of reminds me of Tom Clancy’s U.S. at war novels, all of which I think I read – the ones he alone wrote. Except, unlike Clancy, who never seemed to stop waving the patriotic gung ho America at war flag as his code of honor, Vicki waves in Code of Honor a patriotic flag of a different cut altogether. A patriotic flag of truth. A patriotic flag of the horror of war generally, and the far greater horror of war waged for the sole purpose of making big American corporations a lot of money. A patriotic flag of the evil of attacking another country to get its oil. A patriotic flag of opposing lying, and lying, and lying, to invent a war. A patriotic flag of putting one’s own life and the lives of one’s own family and loved ones at risk by waving those true but “minority report” American flags.
Code of Honor is about how it could have turned out, instead of how it did turn out, if those true but “minority report” American flags had been waved by a majority of Americans before the Iraq war, with a wistful flashback to the Vietnam war, which planted the seed for the kind of war, one big fat greedy lie, that the Iraq war was.
The Afghanistan war, in Code of Honor, is simply a hunt, futile, for Osama bin Laden and his associates. Futile, because of the vastness of that country. Futile, because the Taliban are far more resistant and numerous than was estimated before going in. Futile, because the US President, last name Hedge, wonderful irony, only did Afghanistan for show; his real interest all along, and of his confederates, is the Iraqi oil fields and refineries. And, a secret plan, hatched by President Hedge’s father, to rewrite American law, and, along with a clandestine black “project”, I thought of Illuminati, to allow his father and his confederates to take over America and run it as they see fit.
Kudos to Vicki, and to whomever advised her in the writing of Code of Honor. Every American high school student should be required to read this book. All American military personnel should be required to read it. All members of the US Congress should be required to read it. All Americans who supported the Vietnam war, the first Iraq war, the second Iraq war, the Afghanistan war, should be required to read it.
My lingering question, sorry, Vicki, I can’t help but ask, three lingering questions, actually:
When you wrote for Celebrate, were you beating up on George W. Bush, his father, Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld in that newspaper? I simply do not remember. I do remember I was beating up on them in my daily email blasts.
And, did the people who advised you during the writing of Code of Honor put themselves at risk back when it might have made a difference? Did they do all they could to stop the evil American military-industrial complex wars in which they were involved as US Military personnel or advisers. Or as US politicians? Or as whatever they were doing back then?
And, did you, and the people who advised you in writing Code of Honor, after Barack Obama accepted the Nobel Peace Prize, while waging the two wars of his predecessor, in Iraq and Afghanistan, beat Obama up for being a hawk in dove feathers?
I beat Obama up a lot after he accepted the Nobel Peace Prize, and before he did it, and before he was elected the first time. I told everyone I knew not to vote for him, he was not what he appeared to be. I told them I didn’t care for John McCain, either. I said there was no presidential candidate I wanted to see in the Oral Orifice, so I wasn’t going to vote in that race.
To cries that Obama was the lesser of evils, I said, a vote for the lesser of evils still was vote for evil, and I wasn’t convinced Obama was the lesser, because the angels had told me he had the potential to be the Anti-Christ, which looks like the Christ, but under the pretty veneer is something else entirely.
Vicki replied to me:
The official launch of both the book and Books in Action, the nonprofit program the book will support for a 99 hour launch period is scheduled to start this Saturday at 9 PM and it’s been hectic. If interested to learn more about the program, check out [...]. There’s still some work to do on the site but the info is there.
Anyway, I was delighted to see that you really enjoyed Code of Honor. Thanks for the great write up. As to your astute Clancy comparison, yes, it was conceived as sort of the anti-Clancy version of the political thriller.
A little clarification re: the medical and military – all the medical details were the product of extensive research as were most of the military details, including the various locations, campaigns, and events related to the push to invade Iraq. I did, however, ask some veterans to review the book for military protocol, field weapons, and rank reference errors and made some corrections per their comments.
As to your questions, re:
1) calling out the neocon agenda in my writing as it was happening – yes, on more occasions than I can remember over more issues than I can count.
2) what the vets who commented on protocol etc., what I know is that currently they are leading members of Veterans For Peace (which BTW is one of the national orgs the book will be supporting) and,
3) while I did indeed have to check my gag reflex at Mr. Obama receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, I none-the-less have seen enough of life to know that there’s not a lot of perfect good floating around leaving us always with a choice between lesser evils. And for my money, the less evil the better.
Keep the up the good work on holding feet that need it to the fire.
Hi, Vicki -
Thanks for filling in some of the back story for your novel. I can’t imagine better ambassadors for peace than former Iraq and Afghanistan combat veterans. A good Alabama friend of mine, before I knew him, was an artillery captain in Vietnam, and after he came home he became an ambassador for peace, and he’s been at it ever since. He’s radically prejudiced against USA War, Inc.
If you want me to post my review of Code of Honor at Amazon or some other online bookseller which has it in e-book, let me know and the link.
I had the gag reflex when the Nobel Committee awarded the Peace Prize to Obama for continuing to wage G.W. Bush’s wars. I threw up (not literally) when Obama accepted it, even as he said, rightly, that he didn’t deserve it. Now, code of honor did not seem to me to be part of Obama’s make up. Then, my bowel locked up and stayed that way for about a month. Then, violent poetry erupted out of me, blasting Obama, which I recited at a Key West Poetry Guild reading, and again at a Key West Poetry Guild event in the Gato pocket park off of Simonton Street. Then, my bowel unlocked. Later, Obama became the drone war president. He is a drone of Lucifer. As was his predecessor. Different outside wrappers.
Below is what I posted yesterday, before hearing from Vicki. I don’t think the angels cared for the floozy ending about shamans, but it was in there when I gave Vicki the link to it, so in there it stays. Contemporary shamans I have known, and known of, did not do the kind of heavy lifting Vicki did in Code of Honor. The shaman priest Jesus did, though. And then some. He, and Archangel Michael, started in on me in early 1987, and it’s been so much fun that I can’t think of anything particularly nice to say about it, other than I hate to think what would have become of me if they had not started in on me.
Y Women: future-past – humanity’s salvation
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The other day, during a nap, an elder woman came to me in a dream and said she’d had eagle visions. The angels, who mercilessly overwork me,
then pressed me to write about eagle visions, which I did, in one way, in yesterday’s the UGLY – various Key West Memorial Day weekend ceremonies, and some eagle prayers post at www.goodmorningkeywest.com. I had an eagle visions sequel ready to go today, but dreams last night left me feeling I needed to do what ended up being today’s America’s Memorial Day – The Corporate Menace post instead. Then came more dreams in a nap today, with plenty of violence in them, and plenty of indication that I needed to proceed pronto with the eagle visions sequel.
In my waking life, whenever I see an eagle, that heralds major change headed my way. Perhaps that is due to my having an eagle vision in early June 1995, the first of three visions in a span of four days. The three visions came from the same spirit place, and now I understand the angels view them collectively as “eagle visions”.
The first vision came about when I was visiting a younger spiritually-gifted woman, deep into New Age practices,
with whom I had shared spirit technology the angels had taught me, which I then called “rainbow alchemy.”
Leaf, as she called herself back then, said I needed to do a past-life regression, which would take me back into the roots of what was bothering me, and then I would start feeling better. What was bothering me was, I was in a rough dark night of the soul, which had descended on me from the spirit realms a little over four years prior.
Using her version of guided imagery, Leaf tried to take me down various stairs, through descending underground rooms, toward that past life. Instead, something jumped her method and took over. Images and a story started coming to me, like a movie, but running in very slow motion, which eventually became really emotional. After it was over, Leaf said it was a past-life experience. I said I didn’t think so; it was a shaman vision, but if it was a past life experience, it was representational. It was blazed into my soul; I can write it from scratch, if need be. Same for the two visions which followed.
Of Men, Wolves and Eagles
Once upon a time there lived a man named Joseph, who grew tired of living
with people and left his village and went into the woods to live. By and by,
a wolf pack discovered Joseph and over time got to know him and that he was
not like other men, and eventually they took him into their pack. The leader
of the pack was a red wolf named David, and soon David and Joseph became
fast friends, and they hunted and played and slept together like . . .
Then one day, the men in the village where Joseph had lived learned from
hunters that Joseph was living with wolves. The men decided that it was not
right for a man to go off and live in the woods and run with with wolves. So
they got their guns and set off to find Joseph and bring him back to the
village, to live like a man.
The men came upon the wolf pack sleeping in the sun next to a bluff. The
wind was blowing off the bluff, away from the wolf pack toward the men,
which prevented the pack from scenting the men as they approached. By the
time the wolf pack realized the men were there, the men had the pack
surrounded, pinned against the bluff.
David wanted to order the pack to charge, but Joseph said, “No, I am a man,
they will listen to reason, let me go and speak with them.” Although David
did not like this idea, he agreed to it because Joseph was a man. But the
men would not listen to reason and they shot and killed the entire pack and
took David heartbroken back to their village.
Joseph languished in the village for many weeks, blaming himself for the
death of his pack. Then, he had a dream in which he sees David’s face. David
is angry, but says nothing, just stares. Finally, Joseph blurts out that he
did the best he knew how to do, and he’s so sorry for the way it turned out!
David says, “Better that we attacked and died like wolves, than be
slaughtered like sheep!”
Then, Joseph is back with the pack, against the bluff, surrounded by the men.
David says he wants the pack to attack. Joseph says, “And I will lead the
charge!” Then, they hear a voice, the whole pack hears it, say, “There is
another way, ask for another way.” Never before has Joseph, David or the
pack had such a thing happen, but Joseph asks for another way.
Suddenly, a great bolt of lightning strikes the ground between the pack and
the men, stirring up a huge cloud of dust. As the wolves and men wait, the
dust begins to settle, and in it begins to take the shape of something huge,
even as the wolves and Joseph now see a pair of red eyes peering from the
bushes behind the men. Then a second pair of red eyes. Then a third pair.
Then ten pair. Then a hundred pair. Then a legion of . . . wolves
The men now are moved by some force to turn around and see what the now
delirious pack already see. Then, the men turn back around and find themselves
face to face with a great towering eagle, whose piercing golden eyes penetrate
their hearts. Then, they hear, “These are my battle angels. You may leave
this place and go back to your village, taking your guns with you, on
condition that you tell everyone what has happened here today, and that no
man should ever hunt wolves again, who are not causing men trouble.”
To this condition the men readily agree, and they return to their village
and tell everyone what happened, and they go to nearby villages and tell it,
and from that day on men do not hunt wolves again, who are not bothering men.
But this is not the end of the story, because a man Joseph was born and some day he must return to live with men, but he will not return just as a man, and he will not return alone.
Leaf and I met again the next day, and she again tried to take me into a past life using her method of guided imagery, and, once again, something took over and a movie started coming to me, very slowly, and it became very emotional. Once again, when it was over, Leaf said it was a past-life regression, and I said I felt it was something else.
Something About Lions
Once upon a time there lived a woman named Alya. She was the medicine woman
in her tribe, using herbs and poultices and spirit ways to help her people.
Yet she had one flaw: she hated lions, because once a lion had killed her
father. Her hatred caused her to cast spells against lions, which caused her
husband great concern. He often told Alya that her war with lions was going
to get her into big trouble, but she was a medicine woman, she knew the ways
of the spirits, and she did not listen to her husband.
One day while Alya was out gathering herbs, she spotted a lion sunning
himself in tall grasses on the savannah. She hatched a scheme in her mind to
sneak up on the lion and cast a spell on him, which would enable her to
steal his spirit and have it for herself. As she crept closer to the lion,
she began chanting softly and seeing in her mind’s eye her spell taking over
the lion. However, she was so focused on what she was doing, that she did
not see in her mind’s eye the lion’s mate returning from hunting. Nor did
she see the lioness catch her sent, drop her kill from her mouth to the
ground, and circle around behind. Too late, Alya realized her peril, just as
the lioness took her from behind.
Next thing Alya knows, she is in the spirit world, standing before the Lion
Spirit. Trembling with terror, Alya wants to run away, but the Lion Spirit
speaks to her heart, says, “There is something you do not know.” Then,
Alya is back on the savannah, watching a hunter from her tribe sneaking up
on a nest of lion cubs, whose parents are away hunting. The hunter has a
twisted spirit and decides to kill the lion cubs just for the fun of doing
it, even though killing any animal just for sport is taboo in his tribe,
which worships the Lion Spirit. On returning to his village, the hunter
tells no one what he has done.
When the lion and lioness return to their nest and find their dead cubs,
they are enraged. They catch the hunter’s scent and track him back to the
edge of the village, where the lion hides in a thicket and begins roaring
and bellowing out his rage over what has happened. The hunter knows why the
lion is there, doing that, but still he tells no one. Alya’s father, the
tribe’s leader, prepares to go out and face and kill the lion, because it
his duty to protect his tribe from marauding lions. And so he sets out to
face the lion, even as the hunter lets him go without saying what has
happened to bring this about, and that a lioness is also out there with the
lion. Alya’s father quickly finds and confronts the lion, and is preparing
to kill it with his spear when he is taken from behind by the lioness.
In her horror, Alya helplessly watches on, even as she now realizes her
hatred of lions was completely misplaced. She feels awful. Then suddenly she
is back on the savannah, stalking the lion whose spirit she once wanted to
steal for herself. The lion looks up, stares into Alya’s eyes. She shakes
all over, is terrified, but does not look away. Then something takes hold of
her, she says to the lion, “I have lost my father and you have lost your
cubs. I will be your cub.” The lion looks deep into Alya’s spirit, nods,
says, “And I shall be your father and will always protect your front.” Then
beside the lion is the lioness, who says to Alya, “And I will always protect
Two days later, on my own, alone, I went inside myself and this movie came, very slowly, and it became very emotional.
A man dreams of a young yogi sitting in the lotus position meditating with his back to the dreaming man. Before the young yogi appear two cobras, raised up, hoods flaired. One white, one black, both beautiful. The white cobra says to the young yogi, “We came to you once before when you were innocent. You realized we brought you a gift and you thought you had to chose one of us, and you chose me. The black cobra says, “We come to you now again, because you are wise.” The young yogi, now very old, weeps, chooses them both. The now old sleeping man awakens, weeping.
About ten days later, the four-year rough dark night of the soul started lifting.
Back toward the future.
As I wrote in this morning’s post at this website, during the night of 9/9/2001, I was asked in my sleep by a then familiar male voice, “Will you make a prayer for a Divine Intervention for all of humanity?” I awoke, thinking something really serious was up. I said, “Okay, I ask for a Divine Intervention for all of humanity.”
On 9/11, my concern was I knew the attack was bait, a trap, and going to war was the worst possible response. Also in my thoughts, in the Gospels, Jesus told his disciples, “Resist not one who does evil,” and “First, take the beam out of your own eye.”
One year to the night later, 9/9/2002, I was asked in my sleep to make the very same prayer, but this time, still in my sleep, I said, “I ask for a Divine Intervention for all of humanity, and let it begin in me!” Although I had been taken through a heap of rough stuff in myself before then, I learned there was a heap more rough stuff to be taken through inside of me. It’s still happening.
In the fall of 2013, around Thanksgiving, I was asked if I would make a prayer for a Divine Intervention of the Feminine into America. I asked for a Divine Intervention of the Feminine into America.
I suppose I was asked to make that prayer because, since 9/9/2001, nothing had changed in America; it still was entrenched in testosterone.
As I also wrote in this morning’s post, I can’t help but wonder if my seeing “X-Men, Future-Past” at Regal Cinema this past Thursday night is tied into this inquiry? By double, even triple the number of years, I was the oldest person in the ticket line. To the young people, I said, “I wonder if they will come out with Y-Women?” That brought chuckles.
In “X-Men, Future-Past”, the mutants, through their valiant efforts to make this a better world and to insure their own survival and co-existence with humans, have inadvertently spawned a corporate artificial intelligence army far more horrible than any menace they have previously confronted; a corporate menace that is exterminating all mutants, and who knows what then will become of the humans? The old mutant leader, played by Patrick Stewart , “Star Trek’s” Captain Jean-Luc Picard,
realizes the mutants have to go back in time, to before they made their mistakes, and do it in another way, to save themselves in the future, and humanity, from the corporate menace.
Perhaps the eagle visions in early June 1995 are being offered to humanity again by the angels. Offered, at least, to people who are ready to live in that way, regardless of how anyone else lives. Perhaps they are the meek who will inherit the earth?
Meanwhile, I think there remains plenty heavy lifting, which shamans know how to do.