The path to JFK fame was that of the typical government-sector faker: first, create a disease. Second, be the one to step forward with the purported "miracle cure". You don't have to actually heal anybody, you merely have to state your intention to provide a cure, and the Shadow Ministry of Propaganda simply has to make sure everybody knows the latter fact. Instant hero! Ask the men of the 2506th and see if, to them, the Kennedy regime felt more like disease or cure...

The physics required to create the conditions so vividly captured in the Zapruder film render the entire Warren report a complete joke. It doesn't surprise me that a fakery-artist like Spectre is behind it. It's the ultimate Northeastern oligarch circle-the-wagons exercise. It is said that we shouldn't attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by mere incompetence, but the effects achievable by the mere latter have their limits before one must ask further questions. I'm not sure those limits weren't exceeded by the Kennedy incident. It, like his entire tenure (and also oft-exhibited by the Obama regime) smacks too much of sibling warfare between competing criminal syndicates rather than a struggle of mere madmen and ideologues.

BTW you share the same b/d with a couple of my relatives.

Gus Russo is seriously on-the-ball on this issue. Also, I may have told you that Carlos Bringuier is my cousin... And helped me tremendously with my books.

And--stand back!!!--Jim Garrison was my wife's godfather (My father-in-law's best friend! (both were home-town boys and war buddies, fought together at Salerno and Anzio)--Garrison was great guy in a social setting, but a raving, raving NUTCASE!!!)

So here I had my wife's godfather accusing my cousin of being in on the plot to snuff JFK!!

Unreal

Post-worthy, I think.

The hounds of CNN fact-checking might be hard at work on this one:

http://tinyurl.com/y8awb95

And an absolutely very Happy Birthday to you.

And I will do my damnedest to grant your Birthday wish for next year ... as it's my birthday, Christmas, and shooting star wish also!

My school was just walking distance down the street from my house. At 5 years old my mother stood on the front porch in her bathrobe and slippers (I had a toddler sister and a baby sister in the house) and watched me walk down to the very bottom of the dead end street to the main drag where the school crossing guard was waiting.

I was in kindergarten. Oddly enough, my teacher's name was Mrs. Kennedy. Her husband was the school custodian. Started off the same old same old (half a day kindergarten because there were so many kids they had to split into half day to accommodate the enrollment ... I was afternoons). The ginger-headed snobby girl with banana curls and freckles (whom Mrs. Kennedy adored) graced us with her tunes on the piano as I sat on the floor and prayed for a fire drill just to escape. Someone knocked on the classroom door and Mrs. Kennedy chased us back to our desks.

She opened the door and a couple other lady teachers were on the other side crying. They told her Mr. Kennedy had been shot, and the principle was closing school and sending everybody home.

I was terrified to leave the classroom to head home because I was afraid I'd come across Mr. Kennedy bleeding in the corridors. At the end of the school shift my mom usually had herself and the little sisters together enough to stroll down to meet me on the other side of the crosswalk and escort me home. Not today because it was so early. So I sprinted across the crosswalk and up our street to hurry home to tell Mom the breaking news about the shooting of my teacher's husband at school.

I came in the kitchen door and found my mother standing in front of our 3 channel b/w TV crying. I said, "Mom, somebody shot Mr. Kennedy!"

Mom sobbed, "Yeah, I know" and pointed to "Uncle Walter" on the TV.

I was completely confused ...

I have an online buddy who is a retired Air Force Colonel. In WWII he'd been stationed on a bomber in the ETO. He then was a fighter pilot in Korea and Vietnam.

He wrote me over the last few years about what he was doing that day Pres. Kennedy had been shot. He was co-piloting on a plane hauling some Congressmen around. He and the other pilot got the call over the radio, He went to the back of the plane where the Congressmen were (and he told me who they were but I can't seem to find the email I'd saved from him for their names) and broke the news to them. Wherever they were headed that day they turned the plane around and went back to Andrews AFB so the Congressmen could get back to D.C.