how about some relevant do***entary films about the dysfunction
of the southern american family? here's how i'd start: “
mista' hatchett sho' wuz a good man.” reverend jackson crooned
to the boy of twelve or so, as they sat in rocking chairs under
an outdoor ceiling fan that lazily turned to the slow, southerly,
summer breeze that meandered its way across the landing of the
wrap around porch. they faced the street side, where the rhythm
of rocking chairs kept time and fingers of ferns waved afternoon
shadows across the slats of white wooden planks. “ mista'
hatchett, he wuz in de second world war. while he wuz gone off,
tha ole' lady he got, well she got herself in a way they sho'
frowned on back then. an he wuz real nice about it when he got
home. shit. they done sumthin' tu him in de war and he ain't got
no sense.” the reverend coughed under his breath. “ soma'
dem girls, they wuz redheads too. shooowee! ain't one of 'em dat
took a bath. dat boy wuz born a full year after mista' hatchett
left wit de navy. dat boy looked just like her brotha, and her
granddaddy, and her identical twin cousins by her mama's sister.
mmm-mmm. ain't no tellin' what gone on. dem girls o' hers started
early too. they wuz low-down, cotton pickers but he shore worked
hard, from sun-up to sun-down. shoot. dat billie jean raised her
skirt ever time rosalee and anniedee come back from town wit dey
fellas dey found. she could sho teach the younger ones where they
natural thang wuz. dat wuz some sweet white trash, sho nuff.
plucked her daughter young too. dat cat from ohio made a home
movie of it too, as dey evidence. he thought dat would brang a
pretty penny on de black market. shit. i paid him six dollars and
fitty-one cents, an it was 1970.” mrs. jackson's disembodied
voice floated from somewhere inside the house,” now you keep
the conversation polite, daddy. ya'll wont some more
lemon-aide?” and she appeared with a tall cylinder of the
ice-cold, thirst quenching, beverage. lemon pulp swirled and fell
aimlessly like snowflakes in a snow-globe. she disappeared into
the house again. the boy could not be certain whether she was out
of earshot. “ i don't like them people.” he offered his
analytical conclusion. “ dat bille jean wuz takin' boys by dey
handles when she wuz eight. shit. you line up for dat!” the
boy sneered a half smile at the old man with open scorn and
contempt. he shook his head with certainty. “billie jean was
eight an about four feet tall, she already had big ole' brown
nipples and wore a full grown brazziere. we called her 'peter
cottontail' and she balled, “least i ain't no nigger!” he
continued, “rebecca wuz a kinky-haired redhead and covered in
freckles. eyes as blue as a summer day. mrs hatchett's boy said
he got ever one o' dem girls back at he farm bungalow. rebecca
went to church ever sunday and sang a song-special, and she
wouldn't tell on nobody. dat youngest one married some cat from
ohio when she was eighteen, and dey made a girlie film of him and
billie jean's oldest girl when she still had her baby-teeth.
said it wuz for a contest in the military right after he got back
from viet nam. he got a dishonorable discharge that same year.
made one of ole' tim too. dat wuz mrs. hatchett's boy. dat boy
weren't right. he wuz double-jointed. never learned to read. he
said billlie jean was cross-eyed and chewed tobaccer but she'd
do de natural wit cha after church. summer wuz good on wensdey
nights --after the watermelon feast and seed spittin contest.
” he paused victoriously, as if he he were taking in some
lavish scenery or enjoying some worldly delicacy, like caviar --
or an exquisite french crepe. in a lower tone he said, “ we
made ever one of them girls give head. billie jean's second girl
got bent over a tombstone when she was about your age. her sweet,
white *** wuz shinin' like de moon, stickin' up at high noon on a
saturday.” he slapped his knee and laughed hard. ”on account
of dat motorcycle loan her drunkard daddy let go at de bank. ole
john boyd didn't think they'd be no report down at the station on
dat. oooh, you gotta be careful at his bank. billie jean's
drunkard man sat in county one time -- for six months -- for
stealin' a saddle while he wuz on a drunk wit his boyfriend, ****
adams. dey shared a cell and adams got life for incest wit he own
daughter later on. dat boy ain't real bright, either. he look
funny too. adams had ever issue of ever playboy hugh hefner ever
put out -- for 30 years. dem little girls wuz workin' overtime
from the time dey wuz five, due to dat barmaid he married.” he
rocked silently for several minutes and added,” mista' hatchett
sho did like de navy. he talked to people -- and de room would be
empty. he stunk...used an outhouse 'til 1977. mrs. hatchett, she
wuz a nurse in town. she took care o' him 'til she died, an then
his girls took over. dey kids wuz grown. dat redhead's daughter's
a whore in wichita now. hell, she ain't got no teeth on account
o' meth. she dig dat meth. whoo! she say she can take a banana
sideways!” they both laughed hysterically. from inside the
house the old woman sounded, “ what's that? what are you boys
talkin' about?” reverend jackson responded,” get me some
flypaper out here. now dat's somethin' i can use.” she
appeared with a flyswatter and handed it to him with purpose and
deliberateness, ” here. they think they lookin' for your nasty
***, but it's what comin' out o' yo' mouth!”  By: Winterlynn@pacificwest.com on the February 6th, 2010

"..pure and animistic cultures 2 thousand years ago? " what the
hell is this???? instead of digression into the trees, how about
using that newly evolved genetic pop the brain took about 4500
years ago and start exercising the other 95% of our undiscovered
selves? i don't want to go back to the animals. i want civilized
intelligence, where survival and solutions exist. the rest of you
can go back to ethiopia where you have to dig a hole to shit in
the ground. i want the right to grow my own medicine. i want
the right to own my own ideas. i will not think for corporate
america, i will not crack my cerebrum open and spill out its
value to make some dirty old jew man richer ( sorry, ollie) ,
while i get nothing. nothing?! go to hell. i want to stop your
ideas if they kill off the planet. i want the absolute right to
tell you to stick your disease and hedonism up yours, and not be
retaliated against for my views. i have the right to not share
my beautiful clean body, and i will keep that right unto the
death. i want to talk without fear about what really occurred
before and after the murrah bombing and 911. i don't want law
enforcement ganging up to protect their brothers, and i don't
want the us army dealing any more heroin to the kids. i want
heidi to have her "h's", for god's sake. don't you know we will
value her then? christ!  By: Winterlynn on the January 25th, 2010

yeah sorry i was stoned... oliver stone if you really want to
show the world that you are kind of goodwilling, then you must do
films now that have a important m***age. this m***age is that the
zionism is bad, and catholizism is bad, and the natural
animisitic cultures were positive but destroyed by the jewish
forces since 2000 years. you think you are cool doing jfk omg
that is nuts. talk about the mind control involved in the jfk
murder, talk about tousends of cultures destroyed by the evil
catholic/jewish forces.... talk about the real issues, but i
think you wouldnt do it because you are just as well one of these
evil ***holes diverting whole of the american people with you
ignorant views. i hope you and all of your zionists evil friends
die very quickly telling lies all over the world  By: asdfasdfsadsadfas on the January 8th, 2010

oliver stone is a diversion cowboy. he is jew and his mother is a
catholic, do i have to say anything more  By: asdfasdfasdfasd on the January 8th, 2010