Thank you for blowing up this “Government Shutdown” bull shit way out of proportion.
You know. It’s no shutdown. It’s a slimdown. It doesn’t even qualify for a Weight Watcher’s sign-up special.
Copyright Gulflive.com
CNN, your exaggerated threats on world TV and the internet – and by siding with the White House – did negatively affect a diminishing group of our most patriotic citizens… Our Greatest Generation.
Yessiree, CNN. You made them break laws. Shame on you, CNN
Read about these WWII veterans in the sunset of their lives not willing to be denied their last and only chance to visit their own memorial erected in their name. Just as they stormed the hedgerows in France 70 years ago, they stormed stupid barricades set up by their own Government. Just click on this link: WWII Memorial Read about their triumphant last skirmish…against their own Government’s stupidity. The Government their comrades in arms gave their lives for.
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And answer me this, CNN… Who does Michelle have on HER payroll…and NOT furloughed?
After a sergeant in the Marine Corps reached mandatory age and got mustered out, he entered civilian life and became a high school teacher. Just before the school year started, the former enlisted Marine injured his back. He was required to wear a plaster cast around the upper part of his body. Fortunately, the cast fit under his shirt and wasn’t noticeable.
On the first day of class, he found himself assigned to the toughest students in the school. The smart-aleck punks, having already heard the new teacher was a Marine, were leery of him and he knew they would be testing his discipline in the classroom.
Walking confidently into the rowdy classroom, the new teacher opened the window wide and sat down at his desk. When a strong breeze made his tie flap, he picked up a stapler and stapled the tie to his chest.
What remains of the cemetery out in the middle of nowhere.
It wasn’t the deadly black sand that greeted the US Marines on Iwo Jima.
But as we stood on out on the desert, white powdery dust would swirl up in the softly blowing arid wind… and I then realized it was upon this gawd-awful sand that my Aunt Shiz and Uncle John built their future for their family.
It was their Iwo Jima… It was called the “Manzanar War Relocation Center” by our government back during World War II.
They were forced onto these forsaken sands by FDR in April of 1942 but made the most of it. Quietly. 仕方が無い… 我慢. Shikataganai and gaman.
FDR called it relocation centers.
It’s just my opinion but political correctness be damned.
It was a prison. Complete with eight guard towers and soldiers manning .30 caliber Browning machine guns. Barbed wire fencing all around. No freedoms. Chow at specific times. Public toilets and showers. No running water in your “cell”. No cars. No soda jerks. You were classified as “Enemy Alien” even though you said your Pledge of Allegiance or were a Boy Scout.
There were ten well known ones like Manzanar. But quite a number of smaller or special purpose prisons were scattered about the US – some of which have been long forgotten. But one thing in common was they held Americans incarcerated just because they looked Japanese. Not one was ever convicted of spying for Japan.
Pictured: Aunt Shiz and my four cousins. There was no notation other than the date but if I were to take a wild guess, this may have been taken as they left Manzanar the second prison they were moved to: Tule Lake. I base it upon the barrenness of the area surrounding them. (Edit 9/27/2013)
I had never been to Manzanar. However, since Aunt Shiz passed away at the age of 95 last year at this time, I heard a call to visit. So my friend and I decided to make the 500 mile+ round trip the Friday before Labor Day weekend. It was time to go.
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Manzanar back in 1942 was an isolated, desolate desert wilderness. Hell, it still is for the most part. The 2010 Census only reported about 2,000 residents; imagine how uninhabited it may have been seventy years ago. Temperatures soar to over 110F in the summer and plummet to the 20’s in the winter. It was exactly 100F and humid when we arrived that Friday. It lies between Lone Pine and Independence on US 395.
The lonely Lone Pine train station, perhaps the 1930’s?
If you haven’t heard of these prison camps during WWII, FDR signed Executive Order 9066 (There’s those danged Executive Orders again!) ordering Japanese (Issei) and Japanese-Americans (Nisei) to evacuate from the West Coast of the United States. The FBI and the US Army were there to ensure they left. These families could only take what they could carry with many everyday items prohibited. Knives, guns, tools…and cameras because they were looked upon as the enemy.
Many family heirloom photos and letters were burned or tossed. Favorite dolls. Bicycles. Silverware. Dishes. All gone.
Here are some official US Government photos (except for my color one) from that period; please note many of these were taken by the Government and were meant to appease the public:
American workers putting together the shoddily built barracks. They only had tar paper on the outside to keep out the elements. Big gaps existed between the boards – walls or floor boards.My two littlest kids and a friend stand in front of an actual barrack from a WWII prison camp. Notice the tar paper remnants and the gaps between the wooden planks. Families actually were forced to live in these shacks.Japanese Americans were loaded onto buses or railroad cars under armed guard to be transported to the prison camps. This April 1942 photo was taken in “Little Tokyo”, an area in Downtown, Los Angeles.Japanese-Americans disembark from the railroad cars at Lone Pine, CA and are now waiting for buses to take them to their new “homes” at Manzanar. My aunt’s family may just be in the photograph.Boarding buses headed to Manzanar under guard. The US Army soldier should be concerned someone would grab his holstered .45 ACP. After all, he was amongst the “enemy” as FDR determined.A new family brings in their worldly belongings into Manzanar. Notice the dust being blown up around them. Both Aunt Shiz and my dad talked about how everything in their assigned barracks would be covered with dust…down to their Army issue mattresses and sheets. Imagine that for days on end.Arrivees at Manzanar. Note the ID tag on the evacuee at left. Everyone got one…even babies.Mess Hall chow line. You ate here whether or not it was freezing or scorching outside.
As general information, a relative said the latrines were so cramped that you almost touched each other while sitting on the toilet and that there weren’t any stalls. Just holes when the first arrivees showed up or after toilets were finally installed a little later. It was hot and stuffy inside with the stench and flies unbearable. They had to wait in line to use the latrines, take a shower or eat.
During the war, Manzanar internee Pfc Sadao Munemori – through his brave actions on the battlefield – was bestowed the Congressional Medal of Honor…posthumously. (Twenty-one Japanese-American soldiers were bestowed the Medal of Honor.)
Interestingly, two-thirds of the Japanese Americans interned at Manzanar were under the age of 18 per the National Park Service. There were 541 babies born at Manzanar; my cousin Roy was one of them. (Another cousin, Neil, was born in Tule Lake, CA while his older brother Bobby perished at another camp at six years of age.)
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It is still difficult to believe all of my stateside relatives of that time – all American citizens – were subjected to the degrading treatment depicted above. But I think my Aunt Shiz had the toughest experience raising four children – with one born in camp.
As we walked through the museum, I perspired profusely even though it had a cooling system. While my friend was intently reading a number of exhibits, I tried to occupy my mind with other thoughts; I still didn’t know how I would react to being here.
Then, I saw several faces in photographs lining a hallway honoring Toyo Miyatake. I had often seen them in my youth walking about Little Tokyo or at the temple (I am Buddhist.). The familiar faces somehow made me “feel at home” or secure in a way.
Standing is Hisao Kimura, the father of my good friend Sadao. They founded Kimura Photomart where I worked in Little Tokyo. Toyo Miyatake (seated at left) frequently came to Kimura Photomart to sit on a stool after retiring. Toyo’s son, Archie, is on his right. Please click on this link to learn more of the Miyatake heritage and connection to my family. Toyo Miyatake
Here are some other snapshots taken during the visit:
My friend intently read the information on the exhibits during our brief visit. I feel she learned “stuff” that is not in our textbooks. I was happy she took interest.At the very bottom left of the camp model, you will see a “greener” area. It housed the US Military as well as administrative staff. These barracks were more thoroughly constructed with running water and toilets.This is one bit of information that can be drawn up to the CPU. However, I am at a loss when it shows that Aunt Shiz was moved to Tule Lake.My friend appears to have a solemn look on her face while looking at the prison camp’s layout. Over 11,000 men, women, children and babies were made prisoners and incarcerated at Manzanar – all civilians.Our good friend Toyo Miyatake, who had illegally snuck in a lens, fashioned a self-made camera around it to take historical pictures from inside the camp. However, photography had been forbidden. For a more complete history on Toyo Miyatake, please click on this link: Toyo’s Camera.A recreated barrack stands alone on the desert sand beneath spectacular clouds. These recreations were MUCH better made than the original barracks as the National Park Service had to build these to Code. They even had fire alarms and exit signs. 🙂Inside of one of the re-created barracks. According to the National Park Service website, “Any combination of eight individuals was allotted a 20-by-25-foot room. An oil stove, a single hanging light bulb, cots, blankets, and mattresses filled with straw were the only furnishings provided.”The backside of the memorial at the Manzanar cemetery. I would not have appreciated being buried in such a desert to be forgotten. On the other hand, many of those killed in action were never found as well.The slightly humid desert wind blows through my friend’s hair as we stand by the memorial erected in 1943 marking the cemetery.
Lastly, a recreation of a tag each individual had clipped on his/her person to be incarcerated. While the Nazis tatoo’d ID numbers INTO the flesh of Jews, this tag served essentially the same purpose. This one reflects Toyo Miyatake:
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We walked on the same sand that Aunt Shiz, Uncle John, Hiroshi, Bessie, Shozo and Roy walked on for 3-1/2 years. We experienced the heat, although it was but 100F when we arrived there and partly cloudy. The dust that got kicked up by the warm gusts did swirl around a bit as Aunt Shiz described. My Subaru Outback was coated with that fine dust. It was almost like the powder law enforcement uses to bring out latent fingerprints. And perhaps it is TMI, but I did step inside a modern “port-a-potty” set up out in the desert. Believe me… it was hot and stuffy in there. That will suffice. But I think that they all endured that for all those years… Unbelievable.
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As we drove home, my friend asked me how I felt. I had mentioned to her I might shed a tear or two (from the dust, of course, as real men don’t cry) before we went. After pondering her question, I answered, “Elated.”
Bizarre answer? Perhaps. But I was elated I got to slightly experience what they all did 70 years ago. No, I did not have to sleep on straw mattresses in stifling cramped rooms nor eat prison-grade quality food at the beginning of incarceration. Nor line up for chow or to take a shower… Nor have to fear .30 caliber Browning machine guns pointed at me…
But I did finally see that my aunt and uncle built their future upon what they had lost – and what they learned to be important for family – on these white sands of Manzanar.
But since English is my second language, I can use it out of naivete.
And I feel it means “internal spirit” or “internal push to do something”…
Like “Man, it took a lot of spunk to work like that.”
Of course, I understand it can refer to something else… You know, foreigners learn bad words first.
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So why bring up this word? Are you afraid of getting spunked?
Well, America now has 478 million people that need to be spunkified. That’s 478,000,000, folks.
Why?
All of these 478 million people are on food stamps. That’s a lot of missing spunk.
Original food stamps.
I don’t know how many of them are citizens or have green cards or are “undocumented”.
Of course, there’s a number of the 478,000,000 folks just down on their luck… But for the most part, the remainder have no spunk.
That’s how they live day to day. On food stamps. That the people WITH spunk for the most part are paying for.
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Did you think 478 million was a big number? Well, how about 78 billion… That’s in dollars. $78,000,000,000. Three more zeros than 478,000,000.
That’s how much this food stamp program is costing us.
That’s how much of us “with spunk” are losing out of our paychecks.
Would you like to hear something more sickening?
$3,000,000,000 – three BILLION dollars – of that $78,000,000,000 is spent on ADMINISTRATION. To me, that is plain sick. Stupidity. Unnecessary staff to meet stupid legalities.
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Obama said at the beginning that he believes food stamps is an economic stimulant.
Bull pucky.
The food stamp program started in 1939. We were in the Depression. People were hungry and crops and food stuffs were stockpiling on the farmlands.
One of the original food stamps poster. Circa 1939
So FDR came to a startling and brilliant idea – let’s give out free money to those that are hungry. It’s free to them as working people had taxes taken from their pay. Then the hungry can then buy the food stuffs stockpiling on our farms! Win-Win-(Lose)!
Well, thank goodness, World War II began. The Depression ended with the American will power to… work. The food stamp program – which was experimental – officially ended in 1943. About 4 million Americans received assistance in those four years.
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Well… Guess what JFK did in his first day in office in 1960.
Yup. He signed an Executive Order. (The same type of directive that put my father into those prison camps during WWII. I hate those suckers.)
This Executive Order reinstated the food stamp program. After, it was one of his campaign promises.
…And that’s all she wrote. Now, one out of seven six Americans are on food stamps (called the SNAP program now).
1 out of 76.
And you know what? It is true. You can live a better life with food stamps and NOT working. You even get free health benefits!
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To some, this post will cause irritation if not anger. For others, they are irritated or angry. They are angry because the country’s majority has voted for this, in one way, shape or form… This minority of voters didn’t believe in an endless entitlement mentality…nor want it.
Indeed, a heckuva a people need to get spunkified.
Face it. Our country is clearly headed in the wrong direction. We are even furloughing our military.
Damn the lawyers and damn the minority rights activists. It has moved too far towards the extreme in the past six years.
Make it hard to get free food. Make them work for it.
This needs to be stopped…
(ps This is just an opinion. There is no right or wrong. There is no intent to rile anybody and all constructive comments will be appreciated.)
Not to bore anyone but a few of you readees may recall my dad abd older siblings were in essentially peison camps during WWII just for looking like the enemy.
Well, researchers found another prison almost forgotten due to obscurity. This prison camp was not far from Spokane.
While the prisoners were paid up ti $60 a month, they did build many mikes of road.
History is what we make of it.
But blogs like ours are sure better than the misguided media.
When I was a youngster, the kids on our Oakford Drive in East Los Angeles would play after-school and certainly after homework was done.
Playing was comprised of two general categories:
1. Sports – like baseball (complete with broken windows) or football (on our lawns spotted with metal sprinkler heads), or,
2. War
Needless to say, I was never a member of the US forces when we played war. (Oh, how I longed to be Sgt. Rock with his bulging biceps and Thompson machine gun blazing away…fighting for the red, white and blue.)
No, I was always the “J” or the “K”… You know what I mean.
To be killed over and over again.
Like with elaborate booby traps: a wooden clothes pin armed with a cap and taped onto a piece of wood. When I neared the booby trap (countless of times), Steve would pull the cord (countless of times) attached to a little string of metal from a spam can holding the clothes pin open..and “POP!” I would crumble to the ground. Very effective weapon if you ask me.
Or shot with John’s toy Winchester. Wait a minute. Winchesters were for cowboys and Indians. I wonder how that got into our (imaginary) war. Oh, well. We were just playing while building our love for country.
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After all, this was only a little more than 15 years after a most bitter war’s end.
Toyota wasn’t even in our vocabulary.
Sony became part of our vocabulary only because of something called a transistor radio.
The gist of it? I hope you will read it and develop your own.
But…
Is this a case of hysteria? Of being afraid of being sued by spotlight-loving lawyers… or CNN making you out to look a villain to support Obama’s political agenda? Just my opinion, of course.
Of what HARM was it? The toy grenade didn’t even have a paper cap… Wait a minute. Was there EVEN a toy grenade? Or maybe it was a fuzzy tennis ball in place of his imaginary grenade?
OMFG.
Don’t punish the kid’s imagination.
Geezus H. Christ.
Maybe he just wants to be Sgt. Rock and save our country.
The Bill of Rights stems from those natural rights…at least in my opinion. I ain’t a lawyer, thank goodness.
Original Bill of Rights
And if my schooling and failing memory are correct, this Bill of Rights sought out to protect us from our own newly created government. It sought out to call out these rights simply…and protect us from tyranny.
It put into simple language a guarantee of a number of personal freedoms, limit the government’s power in certain areas, and provide power to the states and the public.
The Bill of Rights cements our national culture, I feel.
Help me out here, smarter people than I.
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But can an American overrule this foundation, the Bill of Rights. Singly overrule this foundation?
Yes.
Its called an Executive Order. The President of the United States can act as a monarch in concept.
Tremendous power, yes?
But do we learn from our past mistakes?
A kind reminder: FDR signed an Executive Order in 1942.
Executive Order 9066. Notice, readers, it is not “We the people”. It is filled with “I”.
This Executive Order resulted in this somewhat familiar poster:
It stripped my father, uncle, aunt, and cousins completely of their rights.
Not just one right. All of their rights.
They were forced out of the West Coast and forced to live in concentration camps if they could not afford to move.
Their US Passports were confiscated. They were fingerprinted, photographed and assigned an inmate number. Man, woman or child…or baby.
All this happened with one signature. FDR’s.
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Some people say this Executive Order arose out of hysteria. Reaction to something that happened.
I just want to say I am against any Executive Order. Large or small in its magnitude. By definition, it serves to nullify the Bill of Rights.
Masako and Spam Musubi 