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Debate Tuesday

July 26, 2005

(broadcast stream) (.mp3 download Right-click,”Save Target as”,”Save”)
Today, a more traditional Debate Tuesday with Mike Lane, President of IntElephant Strategies.
Topics for dicussion:
The comment by Radio Host Michael Graham that “Islam is a terrorist group.”
John Roberts
The London Bombing
and TraitorGate (of course)

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  • Ho Chi Minh McSmith February 6, 2006 10:32 am

    Feeding the Python
    Monty the six-foot python lived in a large, chicken-wire cage in a commo-shack on an ARVN compound near Phouc Vinh. The 12-foot-long cage had wooden upper and lower levels which were connected by a pole going from top to bottom of the six-foot-high structure, and went through a large hole in the second floor that left enough space to accommodate passage of the snake from level to level.
    Every week or so, it was time to feed Monty live food. Then, he was placed on the top level and the meal was put in the lower level. On the menu that day was a golden, fluffy-feathered chick.
    Monty was stretched-out on the upper-level when he heard the chirps of the baby chicken, which was just put into the bottom-part of the cage. His eyes opened. He was aware that it was mealtime; and he had a modus operandi in approaching a variety of cuisine that he had used many times before in his confined environment.
    Monty’s head moved toward the pole, ever so slowly, so slowly that it was difficult to see he was even moving and winding his thick body around the pole. If one just watched the dorsal side of his body, perhaps time-lapse photography would be needed to notice any change in position by Monty at all because the ventral side of his body was doing all the work.
    It was a slow, tedious routine to which Monty was accustomed. He was in no hurry; and his deliberate spiral down the pole could take several minutes, to a half-hour. Monty was so zen that he was one with the pole and his presence was completely unnoticed by the chick which chirped and moved about on the bottom of the cage with a seeming lack of concern of any impending danger. In fact, Monty moved completely to the bottom of the cage undetected by the chick.
    Monty became part of the floor, the chick still seemingly oblivious that she was being given less and less space to move around, until she was cornered. At that point the chick’s eyes met the gaze of one of Monty’s eyes; and the chick shit and squawked at the same time in an involuntary response of immediate fright that lasted only a split second, before the chick returned to absently chirping, having lost its fear it only felt for an instant.
    Monty slowly corralled the chick into a corner by stretching his body across the bottom of the cage, with the chick still in a state of unawares. When the chick was positioned to his liking, Monty struck in a quick, precise attack. With no wasted motion he lunged and coiled around the chick, and held it tightly enough that the small bird could not take another breath. The chick suffocated without making another chirp.
    Once the dead chick started its travel inside Monty’s mouth, the slanted-inward teeth of his unhinge-able jaw made sure this meal was on a one-way trip down a conveyor-line along the digestive tract of Monty’s body.
    Several days later, Monty was to be fed again. This time the meal of choice was a small, spider-monkey. When the monkey was put into the cage and made an abundance of whimpers, Monty, on the upper level, opened his eyes and started his patented, hypo-slow slide down the pole. Monty did nothing different than what he did for the chick and his many other cage-meals before that. He spiraled down the pole so slow; his movement could hardly be seen.
    The monkey looked out through the chicken-wire at the humans looking back at him, and appeared not to notice the snake. When Monty positioned his body full-length on the cage’s bottom floor, almost ready to strike at his prey, the monkey deftly walked over the python’s head and scooted up the pole to the other level.
    Monty had no response, except to continue his slow-stalking routine back up the pole. When the snake got to the upper level after another labored half-hour, the monkey simply scooted passed him, down the pole. Monty’s maneuvers up and down the pole had taken their toll. He was tuckered-out and decided to take a snooze; but when the snake tried to sleep, the monkey went to the upper level and harassed Monty, pulling open the python’s eyelids and then scooting down the pole when the snake awoke.
    As the hours wore into days Monty continued his slow, predictable pursuit of the monkey, which was always too quick to be caught by the snake. After three days, the monkey was taken out of the cage for the sake of the snake’s sanity and well-being. Poor Monty wasn’t getting any sleep at all.
    The two signal corps GIs who operated the communications shack kept the spider-monkey as a pet. They named him “Ho Chi Minh” and called him “Little Ho” for short.

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