After more than six months of posting four a week missives about a variety of people, places and issues, I will occasionally repeat a few of the Derelict Gunslinger’s greatest hits—at least in terms of google. The number of blog visitors has increased significantly. However, most viewers don’t have the time, nor inclination, to search through my archives.

This post first appeared February 19, 2010  

In 1986, notorious international drug smuggler/turned informant Barry Seal was assassinated in Baton Rouge by a Colombian hit team outside a Salvation Army halfway house. The Drug Enforcement Administration described Seal as the most important informant in the agency’s history. Yet, he had been stripped of armed bodyguards by an irate Louisiana federal judge, who was outraged that the smuggler avoided prison in a south Florida case because of his value as a witness against Colombia’s Medellin cocaine cartel. Seal had also plea bargained his way out of a prison sentence in an unrelated Baton Rouge case, prompting a revenge-tainted sentence by the angry judge—in effect, a death sentence. 

As part of Seal’s  probation, he was ordered to spend nights at the halfway house. Despite testimony by lawmen and prosecutors that Barry’s life was in danger, the judge put him on a predictable schedule. And three weeks later, Barry was dead.  

I was well-acquainted with the flamboyant smuggler—to close, according to many law enforcement officials. He contacted me in 1984, claiming to be caught in the midst of a turf battle between drug agents in Baton Rouge and and a DEA task force in Miami. Although skeptical at first, I soon established that he was, in fact, an informant whose undercover exploits in Central America were on the verge of disrupting the world’s biggest cocaine operation—the main source of 90% of the cocaine shipped into the United States.

While traveling with Seal to Miami and Mena, Arkansas, I secretly videotaped his meetings with drug agents. I also put together a paper trail that re-enforced his bona fides. Barry’s motives for working with the DEA were not altruistic. He had been caught smuggling drugs into south Florida and faced the prospect of a long prison term. So he cut a deal.

But rather than admit to me that he was a common drug smuggler, Seal tried to foist himself off to me as a spy working undercover for the CIA. However, I soon discovered that the extent of his spy activity was a single mission in which he secretly snapped pictures of cocaine being loaded onto his C-123 in Nicaragua during a DEA sting operation. The CIA’s only involving was the installationof a camera on the plane to gather evidence that Nicaragua had become a trans-shipment point for cocaine processed in Colombia.

Seal’s photographs were later be used by President Reagan in a nationally broadcast speech seeking funds for Nicaragun Contra rebels. By then, Barry was buried in Green Oaks Cemetery in Baton Rouge. But metaphorically, he was not dead. Instead, he became the star of the Mena myth—a conspiracy tale of a CIA guns-for-drugs plot centered at the Mena airport. I write about the origins of Seal fable in Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger.

The Mena Intermountain Regional Airport in the west Arkansas foothills of the Ouachita Mountains seems an unlikely locale for spy stories and conspiracy tales. Before the arrival of Barry Seal, Mena was best known for its proximity to the Jot ‘em Down Store in nearby Pine Ridge. The rural relic was made famous by Lum and Abner, popular 1940’s radio characters. The Jot ‘em Down Store was a fictional backdrop for dispensing homespun mountain observations about Washington politics and national affairs. It’s too bad that Lum and Abner were not around when Mena gained mythical notoriety. The zany stories would have provided them months of material for comical commentary. 

The yarn began in June, 1984, when a camouflage-painted C-123K transport plane piloted by Barry Seal landed at the airport with a full cargo of rumors and conjecture. Dubbed “The Fat Lady” in its Vietnam days, the retired military aircraft sat on a tarmac outside the hangar of an airport fabrication shop for six months. Before being sold, it left the ground twice—each time to circle the airport. But the simple presence of the mysterious plane triggered years of speculation that has never gone away. The dimwitted stories continue even today. What made the Mena fable so astonishing was the willingness of supposedly intelligent people to believe the myth. 

I feel partly responsible for giving early momentum to conspiracy theories. A few months after my introduction to Barry, I reported a one-hour investigative documentary giving details of his Nicaraguan undercover mission. Titled, Uncle Sam Wants You, the report criticized lawmen and the U.S. Attorney’s office in Baton Rouge for jeopardizing a major south Florida investigation. In the wake of my exposé, I was accused of “taking up the banner of a drug smuggler.”

Actually, the main thrust of the documentary was not Seal’s innocence or guilt, but rather the ongoing turf battle between jurisdictions in Louisiana and Florida. Nonetheless, I have regrets about the documentary because I allowed Barry to strongly hint that he was spy. And for the benefit of cameras, he maximized his minor CIA role and minimized his activities as a drug smuggler. My skewed judgment in editing interviews was geared toward dramatic narrative. I should have stated explicitly that he was simply a spy wannabe. 

The previous paragraphs are the basic building blocks on which the Mena myth was built. A mysterious military transport plane  lands in Mena, Arkansas and remains there for several months. The pilot alludes to being a CIA operative on a television show, as well as in conversations with nearly everyone he comes in contact with. He is mowed down in a contract killing and the President of the United States soon after displays CIA photographs of the Nicaraguan sting operation. Lo and behold, Barry Seal’s C-123 is later shot down in Nicaragua during an honest-to-goodness CIA operation to assist Contra rebels.

Enter onto the scene the Christic Institute.  In the 1980’s, the  left-wing organization was obsessed with CIA operations in Central America. In fact, Christic propagated dozens of drugs-for-guns stories and other yarns about U.S. intelligence abuses. Some had a ring of truth. Most were vastly  exaggerated or downright wrong.

The Christic Institute was ultimately discredited in lawsuits and forced to declare bankruptcy. Even so, its version of the Barry Seal saga convinced an array of left-wing journalists to run the story. At the same time, the Iran-Contra scandal was unfolding  during the  Reagan  Admininistration. As a result of Seal’s undercover DEA work and one-time CIA activity, he was tied to the scandal—more by speculation than any hard facts.

In the beginning, Seal was linkedto President’s Reagan and George Herbert Bush. Following the election of Bill Clinton, right-wingers took possession of the saga. Without a shred of evidence, Clinton was accused of protecting Seal’s Mena drug operation as a favor for cocaine-snorting “Friends of Bill.” And so it went. No rumor was too ridiculous to be discounted. And it hasn’t stopped. I still receive calls from intrepid reporters, who have never bothered to review information contradicting the myth—including my book.

More than any reporter, I know the truth about Seal and his Mena activities. We remained in contact until a few days before his murder. Our last encounter occured when he came to my office to meet a Miami private investigator. I setr up the meeting for Wayne Black, a longtime friend.  The detective was hired by an attorney representing drug kingpin Pablo Escobar. He wanted Seal to identify Escobar photographs taken during the Nicaraguan sting operation. DEA agents in Miami gave Barry the green light to meet with Black. Nevertheless, U.S. prosecutors in Louisiana questioned me to determine if there was a connection between the meeting and Seal’s murder less than two weeks later. There wasn’t.

By then, the assassins had been arrested. They were subsequently  convicted and remain in prison. For me, there was disturbing trial testimony that my 1984 documentary had ended up in the hands of Pablo Escobar. He only knew Seal by an alias he used in dealing with the cartel. After watching my program, Escobar reportedly put out the contract on the Barry’s life.

I don’t know if I could have dissauded Seal to conceal his identity, even if I tried. He was a self-promoter from the get-go and wanted his face shown. He got the publicity he wanted—then and and ever since. I have a hunch that if I walk close enough to Barry’s Baton Rouge gravesite, the ground will quake from his laughter at the conspiracy legacy he left behind. I know I laugh loudly when reading crazy stories about his adventures.

In recent months, I’m reminded of Seal when reading and hearing the conspiracy tales propagated by “birthers” and other wing-nuts. At least I can feel secure that these people are keeping an eye out for black helicopters, flying saucers and and all the phantom enemies who are coming to take us away.

Ha, Ha! Ho, Ho! Hee, Hee!

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. The book is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.

I knew this catastrophe was coming. And now that it has happened, we are going to have to accept the results and try to accept a new environment. Louisiana is no longer the home of the dumbest politics in America. In fact, our fair state has fallen to number three behind Illinois and the new champion of dumbness, South Carolina.

The long Appalachian Trail hike by the South Carolina Governor to visit an Argentine lover gave his state early momentum. It gathered steam (literally and figuratively) with the recent ignoble claims by two political operatives about alleged sexual liaisons with Republican gubernatorial nominee Nikki Haley. But dumbness victory clincher was the Democratic U.S Senatorial primary win by a candidate more obscure than a peach poacher in a South Carolina orchard—a guy so poor he would have to float a loan to pay a parking ticket, let alone come up with $10,000 to enter the race.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/06/14/AR2010061405215.html?wpisrc=nl_headline

Speculation about Alfred M. Greene’s improbable nomination has resulted in a variety of theories ranging from political sabotage to election machine malfunctions. Under indictment on a pornography charge, he made no effort to gain more notoriety by campaigning for the nomination.  

Greene’s freakish win has fueled suspicians by Democrats that he was a straw candidate recruited by Republicans to ease the way for the re-election of incumbent Jim DeMint. Regardless of the Democratic opponent, DeMint is a cinch to win—unless, of course, he is caught taking a long hike on the Appalachian Trail to meet a babe in some exotic country. And even under those circumstances, he would probably prevail.         

Meantime, Greene’ opponent in the Democratic race, Vic Rawl, conducted a vigorous campaign by posting a video on youtube. Several neighbors claimed to recognize his name, which is probably true since he is a former state lawmaker. But because ”G” precedes “R” in the alphabet, Rawl’s name was printed second on the ballot, leading to conjecture that Greene may have won the election alphabetically. Voters felt an obligation to pull the lever for someone, even though they had never heard of either candidate. 

I have long held the steadfast belief that four term Louisiana Commissioner of Insurance Sherman Bernard was first elected to office because his name begins with the letter, “B.” I have often nominated him as the dumbest politician ever elected to a state office anywhere, albeit a relatively obscure office even though it is responsible for regulating a multi-billion dollar business and providing protection for every consumer in Louisiana. Once in office, insurance commissioners manage to hang-on until they are indicted and sent to prison. Three consecutive Louisiana commissioners heard gates slam shut behind them. 

If Alvin Greene is simply a straw candidate, who was put in the race to influence its outcome, South Carolina politians can take lessons from old hat Louisiana strategists. Indeed, the practice is so ancient in Louisiana that it has pretty much been abandoned in statewide politics.

The most famous of the Louisiana strawmen was Warren (Puggy) Moity. Although he never won an election, his name appeared on numerous ballots and he bought blocks of television time with OPM—other people’s money. In fact, I owe a debt of gratitude to Puggy. He helped re-enforce my belief in God.

In 1971 when I plugged the jug following a failed skid row audition, my finances were in a mess. The amount of indebtedness seems small today—only two or three thousand dollars. But at the time, it seemed like a mountain to climb. An important part of sobriety was getting my life in order by covering bad checks, staying current in paying child support and keeping creditors happy. So after finally finding a job, I contacted creditors like Baton Rouge’s then leading loan shark, Household Finance, and agreed to pay a set amount each month. The total amounted to $300. A relatively small sum, however, I had over-promised. And a time came when I couldn’t meet any portion of the obligation. Sitting in the living room of my apartment in near panic—an over-reaction, for sure— I muttered, “Oh, God. What should I do?” 

Instantaneously, the phone rang. No, it wasn’t God. After all, I’m not Jimmy Swaggart or one of those TV preachers, who carries on back-and-forth conversations with the Lord. The caller was Brooks Read, a local public relations and advertising man specializing in political campaigns. Brooks ask if I was available to do a thirty-second television spot. He said he would pay me $300.00.

A short time later, I stood facing the camera while attacking Edwin Edwards, then running successfully for the first of his four terms as Louisana’s Governor. The TV spot was paid for by “Friends of Puggy Moity.” Or more accurately, opponents of Edwin Edwards. I had never done a television commercial before—political or otherwise—and I’ve never done one since. But the benevolent coincidence of the timing is memorable.

Too bad Puggy is not around anymore to help Louisiana retain its title as the state with the dumbest politics. Not that our politicians haven’t tried. The lawmaker sponsoring a bill to allow worshippers to pack heat in church could have enhanced our standing. But the measure was defeated. Bobby Jindal—no dummy—stumbled by falling prey to some GOP ventriliquist, who made him appear dumb during a nationally televised response to President Obama’s 2009 State of the Union speech. Our Governor has redeemed himself nicely during the Gulf oil spill crisis.

Louisiana’s last hope has been political consultant, James Carville. His Glenn Beck-like ranting on CNN in recent days makes him look like a comic book caricature of the Carville, who on occasion makes sense. But his effort is too little, too late. South Carolina wins the dumbness sweepstakes by a big margin. 

Maybe November will bring a new team to help Louisiana regain the title.

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. The book is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.

Trash disseminated in viral e-mails and publications seemingly printed in the lock-down wards of mental hospitals, as well as the distortions of people like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh, is the price we endure to protect our First Amendment freedoms. A bargain price, actually. I’ve often heard the cliche that “I will fight to the death to protect the freedoms of of press and speech.” But if it ever comes to down to hand-to-hand combat, I will have to hold my nose and grit my teeth when defending some of the characters who exploit the First Amendment for financial and/or political gain.

Sadly, a scared and angry segment of victims accept much of the trash they read or hear as absolute fact, especially if it provides an some sort of explanation for the uncontrollable circumstances that impact their lives. People react rather than think when backed into corners by the loss of careers and financial security, fear of ethnic groups and religions they don’t understand, and the helplessness that overwhelms them in dealing with tragedies.

A close friend and good Republican whose knee doesn’t jerk when speaking with “liberals” like me— forwarded a viral e-mail of the worst kind today. He ask, “How is it possible to print trash like this?” The first two paragraphs of this post is the answer I sent him.

The missive in question is typical of wing-nut mentality. The writer stoops to exploiting homophobia by accusing the President, a few of his aides and several other public officials—liberal Democrats except for a retired Republican Senator—of being members of a notorious bathhouse for gays. The author and the website from which this fable emanates tries to paint a scenario built around a Chicago men’s club. But he offers not shred of evidence to support any allegation in the lengthy “column.”

Maybe the guy is plain ass crazy. However, my guess is he has problems dealing with his own sexuality. That is frequently the case among outspoken right-wing homophobes. I’ve lost count of the number of these guys who have been exposed as gays, or caught up in other sex scandals.

I’m reasonably certain the e-mail sent to me is being discarded by recipients possessing I.Q.’s that reach double digits. Yet, there will be a few people saying, “Have you read…blah, blah?” Toxic politics has created The Church of the Bizarre made up of a congregation of susceptible believers baptized by immersion in e-mails claiming the President was born in Africa.

The believe wild rumors and allegations must be true since they are part of the written word, instead of being passed along by whispers and rhetoric heard at Ku Klux Klan rallies and Tea Party events. But the “written word” does not transform fiction into reality.

Three decades ago, I was covering the life and travails of notorious mobster, Meyer Lansky when book was published about his mafia buddy, Lucky Luciano. As a I sat outside a grand jury room next to Lansky unsuccessfully trying to question him, a cop brought him a copy to autograph. The book gave a purported history of the association between the two organized crime figures. Lansky scribbled, “All that is written is not true,” a phrase he probably high-jacked from another author. Whatever the source, though, it has widespread application today, particularly  when reading Obama tales.   

And speaking of the President—a “straight” shooter aiming for a piece of B.P.’s butt, though not for gay sex—he visits Louisiana and the Gulf Coast for the fourth time, mainly because that is what Presidents are supposed to do. An important role of the nation’s Chief Executives is to press the flesh of victims of tragedies, often at the cost of ignoring other important issues requiring their presence in Washington. The trips are necessary to reassure disaster victims that they are not forgotten and ”will be made whole.”

There is, however, the inherent danger a politicizing the oil spill. Since the rig exploded, Democrats and Republicans alike have postured for the benefit of cameras. Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal is the biggest beneficiary. By acting like the man in charge, he has recovered from the “weeny-like” nationally television speech in 2009 that almost doomed his future prospects of becoming a Presidential candidate. He is doing a good job.

But Jindal has to walk a political tightrope or God forbid, homophobic characters of the far-left—I presume there are a few—will begin sending out toxic e-mails accusing him of being gay.

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. The book is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.

Many Republican politicians have a startling resemblance to Pavlov’s Dog. If Barack Obama burps, GOP leaders have a conditioned reflex to request the appointment of an Independent Counsel to investigate what food the President has consumed. In turn, the mainstream media reacts by escalating trivialities to the level of scandal in order for reporters to prove they are not kinfolk of Obama’s tail-wagging Portuguese Water Dog as often alleged by Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity and other loonies institutionalized in the Fox “News” asylum.

The most recent bogus scandal involves the Administration “jobs” offered to discourage candidates from running in U.S. Senate Demoratic primaries in Pennsylvania and Colorado. In the Pennsylvania race, Bill Clinton acted as an itermediary to U.S. Representative Joe Sestak, telling him that a non-salaried White House advisory position would be available if he dropped out of the campaign against Arlen Spector and remained in the House. Sestak declined the offer and eventually unseated the incumbent. In Colorado, Andrew Romanoff was contacted by a top Presidential aide and asked if he was still interested in an Administration job he applied for in November 2008. He said no. Romanoff is the challenger to Obama-favored candidate Michael Bennett in the Democratic primary.

Republicans believe these overtures should be investigated by an Independent Counsel. Maybe age has made me overly pragmatic. But having been around politicians and politics for more than three decades, I can’t imagine why anyone would not expect the titular heads of either party—Democratic or Republican—to try to exert influence over the outcome of important elections. It is called leadership. Obama critics argue that before his election, he promised to avoid politics as usual. However, I don’t believe that pledge encompasses abandoning his role as leader of the Democratic Party—except for those who consider Newt Gingrich a political deity. In fact, nobody other than partisan politicians believes it is illegal or unethical for the Administration guard its self-interest.

As I write in Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger,  the Gingrich worshipers stomped on the cold body of a corpse 17 years ago to launch a costly brand of toxic politics that fell under the heading of Whitewater.        

The person most responsible for the Whitewater investigation was a dead Friend of Bill, an “FOB” as the President’s Arkansas pals were known. If Deputy White House Counsel Vincent Foster had conducted a news conference in July 1993 to announce his reasons for committing suicide, I doubt there would have been a Whitewater investigation, or stories of Presidential sex games, or reports of a semen-stained blue dress, or an impeachment, or the election of George W. Bush, or an endless war in Iraq. Nor would there have been sideshows like “Travelgate,” Hillary’s commodities profits, and other controversies that meant little and accomplished nothing more than costing taxpayers money. Kenneth Starr (Whitewater Independent Counsel) and his minions could have enjoyed pornography in private and spared the nation a debate over whether blow-job is one word, two words, or hyphenated.

My supposition is not a far stretch. Foster’s taste-test of the barrel of an ancient 38-caliber Colt revolver posthumously produced all sorts of sinister scenarios that were propagated by many characters I suspected of being escapees from mental hospitals. Near the top of the loony list were a few columnists of the otherwise respectable Wall Street Journal. The newspaper’s op-ed page was a repository of Whitewater disinformation, including conjecture that Foster was possibly murdered, or committed suicide because of his knowledge of dark Clinton secrets.

The Arkansas lawyer’s medically diagnosed clinical depression was disregarded as a factor in his death, although the condition has long been a cause of early exits from the living. Ludicrously, tabloid writers and conspiracy theorists suggested murder. Maybe at the behest of his former Rose law firm partner, Hillary. Maybe they were lovers. Maybe she broke off the relationship. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The rumors were nonstop.

Like horny rabbits, GOP Congressmen fathered the appointment of a warren of partisan Special Prosecutors—six to be precise—at a cost of well over $100-million. There were a few convictions for obscure crimes long forgotten and an impeachment that accomplished nothing more than making Monica Lewinsky part of the Clinton legacy.

Granted, there were highlights such as the special of Indiana GOP Congressman Dan Burton  assassination of a watermelon. He shattered the melon with a pistol shot to prove that Foster was murdered. Despite dead watermelons, the Kenneth Starr investigation concluded that Foster’s death was, indeed, the result of suicide.

Speaking of which, Chrisopher Ruddy, the most notorious of the “investigative reporters” perpetuating the Foster murder conspiracy theory, is trying to buy Newsweek. He is given little chance of succeeding in a bid to take over the nation’s second most read news magazine. While working in the Whitewater era for a Pittsburgh publication owned by drooling conservative billionaire Richard Mellon Scaife, Ruddy made a fool of himself writing dozens of articles trying to prove his murder theory. He now heads NewsMax.com, an Internet news site that is home for a bunch of wild and crazy right-wing pundits. If Ruddy fails in his bid to buy Newsweek, maybe he can revive the Vincent Foster fable.

After all, Foster’s ghost continues to have an impact on the Republican Party’s politics of wasting taxpayer money by creating a welfare program for Independent Counsels.

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. The book is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.

Maybe it’s the pollen in the air, but the first week of May receives high marks for moronic remarks. In a close race, Michael (heckuva of a job) Brown wins the stupidity sweepstakes for his oil rig spill consiracy theory. It  is the second major award for the former director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). In 2005, Brown received the nation’s highest award for governmental incompetence in recognition of his Katrina screw-ups in delaying FEMA’s response to the disastrous hurricane.

In an interview last week with Neil Cavuto on the Republican propaganda network, aka Fox Fox “News,” Brown theorized that the Obama Administration delayed its response to the Gulf of Mexico spill in an effort to halt off-shore drilling. In the first place, the U.S. Coast Guard immediately responded and received assurances from oil rig’s owner, British Petroleum, that the spill could easily be contained. When it became apparent that BP under-estimated the amount of oil spilling off Louisiana’s fragile coast line, the Administration immediately commited added resources. This was not Obama’s Katrina as many Republicans hoped.

Also undercutting Brown’s theory is the fact that the Administration recently endorsed additional off-shore drilling. Moreover, Obama called for only a temporary halt in exploration—a statement that drew sharp criticism from environmentalists. Given these facts, Neil Caputo deserves an award for poor journalism since he failed to challenge Brown, whose remarks were so stupid that Fox commentator Dick Morris even disputed the theory. For Morris to defend Obama on any issue is akin to seeing an Our Lady of Lourdes miracle.

However, Morris redeemed himself with the far right. The toe-sucking former political consultant advanced his own conspiracy theory—this one involving an alleged Obama plot to create voter alliances along racial lines by exploiting Arizona’s draconian immigration law. The problem with the theory, even if it were true, is Arizona beat the President to the punch. Despite a noble effort by Dick Morris, I can only award him honorable mention for stupidity. But he doesn’t need additional prizes. His walls are already covered with certificates for dumb claims.

Therefore, my choice for runner-up to Michael Brown in the most stupid competition is the editor of a blog called the Gateway Pundit. It reported last week that President Obama removed Times Square wannabe bomber Faisal Shahzad from the terrorist watch list in 2008. There is a slight difficulty in supporting the allegation. As anyone with the brain of a donkey knows, Obama was not President in 2008. Remarkably, the blog post got a little play from one of the cable networks. Readers of this blog will  jump to the conclusion that I’m going to name Fox “News.” By darn, they are correct.

I can’t let today’s awards pass without invoking the name of Rush Limbaugh, even though he is ineligible for citations. Otherwise, he would dominate the competition to the point that no one else could win. Nonetheless, I can’t ignore his claim that Faisal Shahzad is a Democrat. I guess Limbaugh has added pyschic to his credentials. Faisal never registered to vote.

Speaking of pyschotics—oops, I mean people with pyschic visions—Fox “News” talent scouts will be happy to know that many of my neighbors at the East Louisiana State Hospital are being sent home and told to check in with privatel menta health clinics to get treatment and receive their weekly allotments of medications. Privatizing treatment is all part of budget cutbacks being implemented by our esteemed Governor, Bobby Jindal—a man who may be as deluded as some of the asylum’s patients since he supposedly has plans of one day becoming President.

Anyway, if history repeats itself a lot of mental patients will forget to take their pills, qualifying them for one of four alternatives—a job with Fox “News” replacing Glenn Beck, a talk show on AM radio, starting a wing-nut blog, or wandering the streets aimlessly as a homeless vagrant.

They will probably choose the latter. 

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. It is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.

The indictment in Michigan this week of nine members of a Christian militia group reminds us that certain kinds of nuts are always in season. These characters were members of Hutaree, which means Christian warrior. The fringe organization is also known as the Michigan Militia. Federal prosecutors have charged the eight men and one woman with a bizarre plot to murder a law enforcement official, then launch a large-scale attack with “weapons of mass destruction” on the subsequent funeral procession in order to kill large numbers of lawmen.

According to the U.S. Attorney in Detroit, the militia members hoped their action would cause a nationwide uprising against the government. The Grand Jury indictment accused defendants of seditious conspiracy and a variety of weapons charges.

The arrests bring back memories of Timothy McVeigh, the militia sympathizer executed for masterminding the April, 1995 Oklahoma City bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah federal building that killed 168 people and injured 450. The tragedy raised public awareness of the existence militia and hate groups scattered around the country. Prior to the bombing, most people viewed the militia as small bands of black helicopter obsessed kooks, who believed the United Nations planned to form a world government to control our nation, and Christians in particular.

In the aftermath of Oklahoma City, CNN had me traipsing around Idaho and Montana in search of the lunatic fringe. They were not difficult to find. Indeed, some were individual families with mental health issues. In Idaho, for example, a rancher had an ongoing battle with local lawmen and Fish and Game authorities over his freedom to illegally raise elk. He was armed and claimed to be dangerous if anyone crossed his property line. Lawmen decided to wait him out, rather than risk violence. I don’t recall the outcome.

The principle wait and see also applied in a Montana stand-off. A nutty character ensconced in a shabby compound refused to surrender to federal and local lawmen who were trying to serve a warrant for minor charges. When I arrived to do an interview, his 12-year-old son was stationed on the roof of the house with a 22-caliber rifle to guard against uninvited intruders. I must have known the password since I was allowed to enter. I discovered that the only person allowed to leave the compound was the kid’s mother. She regularly drove to town to collect foods stamps and pick-up welfare checks—an hilarious contradiction of the anti-government stances  her husband professed to believe. 

During my interview, I suspected he was a meth addict. If not, he did a great impression—telling me that the FBI had installed surveillance cameras in cows grazing in a nearby pasture. The family’s security system was as comical as spy cows and the rooftop patrol by the kid. In the shack’s windows, dozens of soft drink bottles were carefully stacked so that they would come crashing down if anyone tried to enter. Outside the shanty, the desperado had constructed a watch tower so flimsy that the local sheriff laughingly told me he was waiting for it to collapse while the fugitive was at the top. That way, he could arrest the man as he was being transported to the hospital with broken neck.

Comedy, notwithstanding, all militia and hate groups, and their sympathizers have  to be considered dangerous. I attended a couple of anti-government meetings that caused me to squirm while listening to the rhetoric.

The Southern Poverty Law Center certainly takes them all very seriously, recognizing that any hate group populated by crazy people is capable of committing violence. And the law center springs into action when violence occurs. After the Ku Klux Klan burned a black Baptist church in 1995, the not-for-profit Montgomery, Alabama watchdog organization filed a lawsuit on the church’s behalf and won the largest judgment ever rendered against a hate group.

Since the election of President Obama, law center spokesman Mark Potok says there has been a surge of so-called “Patriot” organizations and militia groups that advocate disrupting government. Given the proliferation of hate-mongers, law enforcement agencies are faced with the prospect distinguishing between groups that truly pose a threat and the loudmouth gun-nuts who try to impress friends with big talk. Making that determination requires considerable work.

My hunch is that much of the evidence gathered against the Hutaree militia in Michigan is the result of an undercover informant—although there is no evidence of a snitch made public yet. But that is the usual manner lawmen build cases in these types of investigations. There is are inherent dangers in the investigative technique that includes entrapment and/or a lying informants. The Hutaree website shows a bunch of guys running through the forest with guns. The propaganda of these ”Christian Warriors” seems more focused on the arrival of the Anti-Christ than causing a revolution against the government.

So far, the Hutaree group has only been convicted by press release.

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. It is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.

According to crowd estimates, 9000 folks—mostly white—turned out over the weekend for a Sarah Palin indoctrination at an Arizona Rally for Republican Senator John McCain, the former statesman politician now caught in the throes of partisan dementia. Even though McCain lifted Palin from obscurity by selecting her as his running mate in the 2008 Presidential campaign, I’m surprised at her support of the Senator, rather than his GOP opponent, J.D. Hayworth. After all, the former Congressman expressed Palin-like ignorance a few weeks ago by claiming that legalizing gay marriage could lead to man/h0rse matrimony. Palin should find Hayworth’s stupidity appealing.

Anyway, she marches on. In fact, the 9000 people attending the rally is more than ever voted for the political candidate I often compare her with—nut-case, Lyndon LaRoche. Recent news stories disclose that a number of LaRoche followers have found a home in the Tea Party movement, which embraces Palin so whole-heartedly.

For those unfamiliar with the LaRoche cult, I recommend they do a google search. It is quite entertaining. He is the only candidate to offer colonization of Mars as a plank in a Presidential campaign. After qualifying to receive federal election funds in 1984—his third consecutive campaign for the presidency—LaRoche proselytized his Mars plan in a 30-minute national telecast. LaRoche’s political beliefs were just as loopy, ranging from socialism to Nazism with a few other “ism’s thrown in. Unfortunately for the perpetual candidate, his 1988 presidential campaign was short-circuited when he was convicted of 13 counts of mail fraud in connection with phony loans his organization obtained. Released from prison in 1994, LaRoche maintained he had been the target of a government conspiracy, one of many plots in the minds of the wacko candidate and his followers.

So when Sarah Palin launched her misinformation campaign by claiming that health reform legislation included a provision for “death panels” to pull the plug on granny, LaRoche conspiracy theorists quickly became her disciples. They also found a new home in the Tea Party movement. It was a natural fit.

I had my own experience with the LaRoche crowd in the early eighties. Indeed,  I was tempted to file a lawsuit against the organization because its newsletter praised me as the embodiment of Edward R. Murrow—not that I have anything against such a fine characterization. However, the accolade was an insult considering the source. It was sort of like being saluted by the Ku Klux Klan. 

The LaRoche publication commended me for my investigation of overzealous federal prosecutors. In a series of reports for a Boston TV station and an ABC Close Up documentary, I revealed corruption by federal and state lawmen in their dealings with convicted criminals recruited to testify in trials of high profile targets. The LaRoche tribute given me was a companion story to an attack on NBC investigative reporter Brian Ross, now chief investigative correspondent for ABC. Brian, a friend and former colleague years ago in Miami, took several shots LaRoche in a series of reports. Therefore, I was the good guy in comparison. Since people are often judged by the company they keep, I certainly didn’t want anyone to think I had anything to do with the LaRoche cult.

I try to resist the temptation to judge folks by the company they keep—at least most of the time. But when I see a bunch of screaming maniacs like the people outside the nation’s Capitol last weekend, it is hard not to judge. I have a hunch that a vast majority of the demonstrators would be hard-pressed to articulate an opinion about health care that was anything more than an echo of propaganda spread by right-wing Internet websites, Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity and Sarah Palin. In other words, these folks gain their knowledge from dumb bloggers (as opposed to smart ones like me), two ex-disc jockeys, an ex-bartender and a former beauty queen, who quit her job as Alaska’s Governor in order to make a few bucks. And if anyone doubts the ignorance of Sarah Palin, just listen to her for awhile.

The shame is that Palin’s ignorance is contagious.

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. It is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.

Pill-popping Rush Limbaugh has broken my heart. I was so excited when he promised to leave the country if Congress passed health care reform. But yesterday, he said he was misunderstood—that what he meant to say was that he would travel to Costa Rica for medical treatment if the bill passed. I should have expected as much. Rush and the truth are not acquainted.

Before Al Franken gave up hard-edged satire to run for the U.S. Senate, he wrote the book, Lies (And the Liars Who Tell Them). Many of the lies were attributed to Rush Limbaugh. Actually, it doesn’t take a great deal of investigative research to uncover the lies and half-truths. Listen any day of the week, take notes and do a fact check.

Al Franken is one of literature’s giant figures—mainly because he spelled my name correctly in his epic work, Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot. It wasn’t much of a plug, but he acknowledged me as one of “the people who know things.” Since I love to see my name in books, I must acknowledge Al Franken as a great author.

Too bad that he must now restrain himself due to congressional decorum. Don’t laugh. After all, U.S. Representative Eric Massa was forced to resign for merely tickling (groping?) his male roommate aides and using a little salty language that was interpreted as inappropriate. “Hey, lets you and I hop in bed together naked so we can frack.” Whatever the hell frack means.

I don’t know why people are surprised that Congressman Massa displays tendencies of being bi-sexual. We already know he is bi-party. The New York Democrat switched parties to get elected, then cast his House votes for the Republicans. In his surreal world, Massa says his vote against health care reform resulted in a conspiracy by Democrats to out him as a serial tickler. However, nobody believes that to be the case—not even Glenn Beck, who held Massa’s feet, or some other body part, to the fire earlier this week. I hope all the people who believe that I am obsessed with Glenn Beck’s lunacy will take note that I paid him this compliment. Possibly, the last one.

Indeed, the tickler was easy prey. Even Larry King caught him in contradictions. Larry’s confrontational questions are usually something along the lines, “Did you change hairstyle for your last movie?” I couldn’t bring myself to watch the entire King show, but I caught a highlight when Massa said he was unable to contact his closest aide and dearest friend—the man who complained to the House leadership—because he didn’t know the guys telephone number. Larry just shook his head in disbelief.

Anyway, Massa got his 15-minutes plus of infamy, thanks in large part to the 24-hour news cycle. Although there is no credible evidence that he was forced to resign because of his vote against health care reform, the cable news networks repeated the accusations hour after hour, often burying the responses to his allegation.

I wish there was a television show that did nothing but dispel rumors and outright lies—especially the Internet’s viral videos and e-mails. I received one yesterday containing 48 scary facts about health care reform. Since I had not heard anything about some of the assertions, even from outspoken Republican critics of the legislation, I went to factcheck.org.

The non-partisan website is underwritten by the Annenberg Center for Public Policy. The is Director of factcheck is veteran investigative reporter Brooks Jackson, a former CNN colleague in our Special Assignment Unit. Brooks came to CNN from the Wall Street Journal. He is as straight-laced in his reporting as anyone I’ve ever work with, and is not influenced by partisanship. Working with him at the Annenberg Center is a team of experienced investigative journalists. Here, in part, is a factcheck summary of its findings related to the health care allegations.  

Our inbox has been overrun with messages asking us to weigh in on a mammoth list of claims about the House health care bill. The chain e-mail purports to give “a few highlights” from the first half of the bill, but the list of 48 assertions is filled with falsehoods, exaggerations and misinterpretations. We examined each of the e-mail’s claims, finding 26 of them to be false and 18 to be misleading, only partly true or half true. Only four are accurate. A few of our “highlights”:

• The e-mail claims that page 30 of the bill says that “a government committee will decide what treatments … you get,” but that page refers to a “private-public advisory committee” that would “recommend” what minimum benefits would be included in basic, enhanced and premium insurance plans.
• The e-mail says that “non-US citizens, illegal or not, will be provided with free healthcare services” but points to a provision that prohibits discrimination in health care based on “personal characteristics.” Another provision explicity forbids “federal payment for undocumented aliens.”
• It says “[g]overnment will restrict enrollment of SPECIAL NEEDS individuals.” This provision isn’t about children with learning disabilities; instead, it pertains to restricted enrollment in “special needs” plans, a category of Medicare Advantage plans. Enrollment is already restricted. The bill extends the ability to do that.
• It claims that a section about “Community-based Home Medical Services” means “more payoffs for ACORN.” ACORN does not provide medical home services. The e-mail interprets any reference to the word “community” to be some kind of payoff for ACORN. That’s nonsense.

Go to factcheck.org for the full summary. Unfortunately, Brooks is always too polite in assessing the falsehoods spread on the Internet, in newspapers, on Fox “News,” and other forums—including CNN. To give more oomph to corrections, I suggest that Al Franken resign from the Senate and do what he does best. Expose Lies (And the Liars Who Tell Them). We need you now, Al. And you don’t even have to put my name in your books.