Chicago Tribune's Series Porky Agonistes Snouts Out The Facts That Do not Fit Its Narrative

 

Porky made Captive, Gelded, and now in the Prison at Gaza Farms outside of Kankakee, there to labour as in a common work-house, on a Festival day, in the general cessation from labour, comes forth into the open Air, to a place nigh, somewhat retir'd there to sit a while and bemoan his condition Bbbgweeeeeeeeeepppppppppppppppppp! (snuffle-snort) Bbbgweeeeeeeeeepppppppppppppp!.   Porky Agonistes. 

Apologies to old Jack Milton.

Retired Cook County Sheriff Michael Sheahan, the only Cook County Sheriff to retire without a vault full of cash, had been a target of the Chicago Tribune "investigative reporters" and their editorial overlord for the better part of two years.

Fueled by a narrative provided by the MacArthur Center for Justice (formerly of at U of C) and its buzz-cut-Bolshevik attorney Locke Bowman and the now faded from view Jean Maclean Snyder.

Only a very few years ago, the Medill Empire went to war on Sheriff Mike Sheahan. When the MacArthur Center for Justice teamed with the Medill Empire ( Tribune journalists/Chicago Magazine Medill School of Journalism/Bernardine Dohrn & etc.) to prove that Sheriff Michael Sheahan brutalized prisoners at Cook County Jail,  it took a jury less than twenty minutes to toss all charges. Sheriff Sheahan quipped “Tribune Investigative Journalism is BS.” Quite right, Mr. Sheahan.

The Chicago Tribune depends on manufactured thought and leans on University "Centers" for Social Engineering at all levels.   They provide the narrative, the talking points and most of all the conclusions.

Michael Sheahan was plagued a bit by the Combination ( John Kass Owns Combine) of Ink and Agit-Prop and pettifogging Marxist lawyers, but at a time when common sense still had some currency.  The MacArthur Center, like Progressives Universal, went judge shopping to bring down the Sheriff, but Sheahan, unlike most Democrats did not cave-in to political onanists.

The Chicago Tribune would like everyone breathing and in the future to know nothing about this episode. As Mike Sheahan so aptly and succinctly put it, “Tribune Investigative Journalism is BS.”

BS is what too many people gobble down but ladle-full.  It is what creates elected officials like Toni Preckwinkle, Mike Quigley, Pat Quinn and Rahm Emanuel.  It is what fuels Tribune Investigative Journalism.

The Illinois Pork Producers, people at the meat counter and people who eschew BS for a healthy diet in all things have been victimized by the Chicago Tribune once again.

Pork is cheap, people buy pork, pork is meat and the UN wants a global Vegan diet by 2050, so the Chicago Tribune decides to one up the Guardian in matters porcine and grab a Pulitzer with a series on the High Cost of Cheap Pork, pork waste is a pollutant, pigs get hurt -mortally so, and family farms are successful:  Gaea weeps, pigs squeal and people are happy and one can not have that.

For a week the articles of Mr. Jackson and Mr. Marx accompanied by photos of pigs in harm's way have treated the sensitivities of NPR/WTTW devotees to Porky Agonistes!

However, the Illinois Pork Producers (IPPA) have responded.

Several months ago, the Illinois Pork Producers Association stood at just such a crossroads when investigative reporters with the Chicago Tribune, David Jackson and Gary Marx, began contacting producers about an upcoming series of articles focusing on the Illinois pork industry. At that time, the association, along with support from National Pork Board and the National Pork Producers Council, made the conscious decision to work with the reporters in order to provide a balanced and educated voice to their story.

Since that time, many of our producers and industry stakeholders have graciously opened their farms to these reporters, spent hours on the phone answering detailed questions and put their reputations and livelihoods on the line for the greater good of the pork industry.

Our efforts were to provide the writers from the Chicago Tribune accurate information about what is happening in Illinois’ pork industry and the dedication and passion our producers demonstrate every day on their farms. We are disappointed that our voice was not heard and that the promised balance was not conveyed to their readers.

I want to personally take a moment to thank those individuals who took the time from their busy schedules to share their life experiences and knowledge about our industry in a positive thought-provoking manner.

IPPA President Bob Frase is in the unhappy position shared by millions of people, who live outside of the editorial though bubble of rarefied academic, legal and journalistic soma - Huxley's master dope that is "Euphoric, narcotic, pleasantly hallucinant!"

NPR/WTTW nodders dig soma, as do the residents of certain Chicago areas like Hyde Park, Evanstson and Oak Park.

Bob Frase writes in the knowledge that his message will be buried by Tribune Editors and that Carol Marin, or the sunshiny chirppers of All Things Considered will ignore every phrase, clause and punctuation mark.

Mr. Bob Frase and Illinois Pork Producer Executive Director Jennifer Tirey have a frustrating job in getting some voice in the big media to to say, " Hold on a minute!  I know Illinois Farmers and they are not about pollute the very waters they drink, much less put out a bad product.  They are not "factory Farms," they are family farms.

Porky Agonistes gets plenty of shout.  It may even get a Pulitzer.  They come cheap these days.

Click the link bellow and read the facts.

http://www.ilpork.com/news-and-events/news-and-updates/article/2016/08/chicago-tribune-pork-industry-series

Paradise Lost, My Ass!

“Thus it shall befall Him, who to worth in women over-trusting, Lets her will rule: restraint she will not brook; And left to herself, if evil thence ensue She first his weak indulgence will accuse.” 

Not this Cat, G!

http://www.neatorama.com/

It's Still God's World, Pundits Notwithstanding - Milton and a Huge Loss in High School Basketball

Nine times the Space that measures Day and Night [ 50 ]
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquisht, rowling in the fiery Gulfe
Confounded though immortal: But his doom
Reserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain [ 55 ]
Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay
Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate:
At once as far as Angels kenn he views
The dismal Situation waste and wilde, [ 60 ]
A Dungeon horrible, on all sides round
As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd onely to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace [ 65 ]
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all; but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery Deluge, fed
With ever-burning Sulphur unconsum'd:
Such place Eternal Justice had prepar'd [ 70 ]
For those rebellious, here thir Prison ordain'd
In utter darkness, and thir portion set
As far remov'd from God and light of Heav'n
As from the Center thrice to th' utmost Pole.
O how unlike the place from whence they fell!

Leo High School lost to Seaton on the hardwood last night 95-66. The Basketball team had more than a tough night on the fabled third-floor gym surface, as the Mother Elizabeth Seaton Bees stung the Lions mightily with steady 3-point, 2-point cannonades and wholesome foul shooting.

Between the freshman and sophomore games, I treated some of the gents to comestibles at the Fan Stand on the first floor - Chris MsS#$%^ (Leo 2015), "Hickey, you think we'll take the varsity?"

God only knows.

I missed the varsity game entirely because my daughter called for me to to jump start the automobile battery in her conveyance that only days ago I recommended she replace.

The jump-start worked and her Chevy is sitting outside of my window catching the last leaves of 2011. It will stay there until the lovely fruit of my seed coughs up some cash for a battery.

I read the scores before turning in. God spoke and Seaton swept.

My thoughts turned to Milton, old crabby blind Jack, who also had daughters, Oliver Cromwell's Latin Minister. Latin was still the lingua franca of diplomacy, Puritan bigotry notwithstanding.

John Milton is arguably the greatest voice in English. Less the Steven Spielberg ( give 'em what they want) huckster and showman that Bill Shakespeare happened to be, and far less funny that Geoff Chaucer, Milton spoke past human vanity and proudly humbled himself before the Three Persons of ontological certainty - the Alpha and Omega Trio.

Milton was a sponge of human tongues and unlike dusty dopes like John Dewey and Noam Chomsky applied language to its actual purpose - to seek Truth. Milton sought to not justify God, but to justify God's Ways to Man. Huge difference. Like I noted above above, Milton was Cromwell's Latin Minister. Oliver Cromwell beheaded Charles I with the full agreement of a very frightened Parliament and built a Taliban state of England that any Islamic Brother would embrace - in practice if not theology. Warty Ollie burned witches, killed Catholics, banned plays, songs, and books and made Jihads on Scotland and Ireland that rocked the Casbah. Burning the Cathedral full of Papists in the Irish town of Drogheda north of Dublin, Cromwell ordered his Iron Sides troopers to sing hymns and when questioned about barbecuing the kids along with their elders remarked, "Nits breed lice."

That gent would have made a fine Planned Parenthood president.

Milton was the Latin Minister of a very progressive government of bigots, but no bigot himself. In fact, though a devout Puritan, Milton counted many Italian Cardinals as his boon chums. Milton was schooled not only in Latin, but Greek, Hebrew, Italian and French. He was tasked principally with defending and justifying Cromwell's regicidal government to the world of men, but his life sought to make sense of God's Plan.

All things, not some, are ex Deo. The Fall of Man was and could only be a consequence of the Fall of angels. Satan, formerly Lucifer, is the first community activist.

Satan organizes all beings and goes Alinsky on God and his stooges -Michael, Gabriel & etc. - and agitates for reform which means Satan should be God. Satan is brilliantly energetic, but goes nowhere. Satan is really, really, really frustrated that he is not God the Omnipotent Creator of Satan and everything else; therefore, Satan can only attack God through Man, whom God loves. What Satan, for all of his energy and talent, can not grasp, nor accept is that he is not God. He therefore turns away from everything that is God. Satan is the Anglicized word from the Hebrew for op poser הַשָׂטָן ha-Satan.

Opposition.

Paradise gets Lost and Satan manages to have God's beloved creatures Adam and Eve oppose God's Will. However, poor old Satan is confounded by the fact that God's Will trumps the best laid plans and all of the opposition research in the Devil's trick bag. God Planned this opposition by Satan and eventually Man only to have Paradise redeemed.

When I read the scores of the Seaton debacle, all I could think of was Milton's wonderful scene of the fallen demons on the fiery landscape of what soon would become Hell. Satan was also the first Construction/Real Estate Magnate - He and Beelzebub, raised Hell.


Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime,
Said then the lost Arch-Angel, this the seat
That we must change for Heav'n, this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since he [ 245 ]
Who now is Sovran can dispose and bid
What shall be right: fardest from him is best
Whom reason hath equald, force hath made supream
Above his equals. Farewel happy Fields
Where Joy for ever dwells: Hail horrours, hail [ 250 ]
Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell
Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings
A mind not to be chang'd by Place or Time.
The mind is its own place, and in it self
Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n. [ 255 ]
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less then he
Whom Thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: [ 260 ]
Here we may reign secure, and in my choyce
To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th' associates and copartners of our loss [ 265 ]
Lye thus astonisht on th' oblivious Pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy Mansion, or once more
With rallied Arms to try what may be yet
Regaind in Heav'n, or what more lost in Hell? [ 270 ]
So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub
Thus answer'd. Leader of those Armies bright,
Which but th' Onmipotent none could have foyld,
If once they hear that voyce, thir liveliest pledge
Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft [ 275 ]
In worst extreams, and on the perilous edge
Of battel when it rag'd, in all assaults
Thir surest signal, they will soon resume
New courage and revive, though now they lye
Groveling and prostrate on yon Lake of Fire, [ 280 ]
As we erewhile, astounded and amaz'd,
No wonder, fall'n such a pernicious highth.
He scarce had ceas't when the superiour Fiend
Was moving toward the shoar; his ponderous shield
Ethereal temper, massy, large and round, [ 285 ]
Behind him cast; the broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the Moon, whose Orb
Through Optic Glass the Tuscan Artist views
At Ev'ning from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new Lands, [ 290 ]
Rivers or Mountains in her spotty Globe.
His Spear, to equal which the tallest Pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the Mast
Of some great Ammiral, were but a wand,
He walkt with to support uneasie steps [ 295 ]
Over the burning Marle, not like those steps
On Heavens Azure, and the torrid Clime
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with Fire;
Nathless he so endur'd, till on the Beach
Of that inflamed Sea, he stood and call'd [ 300 ]
His Legions, Angel Forms, who lay intrans't
Thick as Autumnal Leaves that strow the Brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades
High overarch't imbowr; or scatterd sedge
Afloat, when with fierce Winds Orion arm'd [ 305 ]
Hath vext the Red-Sea Coast, whose waves orethrew
Busiris and his Memphian Chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursu'd
The Sojourners of Goshen, who beheld
From the safe shore thir floating Carkases [ 310 ]
And broken Chariot Wheels, so thick bestrown
Abject and lost lay these, covering the Flood,
Under amazement of thir hideous change.
He call'd so loud, that all the hollow Deep
Of Hell resounded. Princes, Potentates, [ 315 ]
Warriers, the Flowr of Heav'n, once yours, now lost,
If such astonishment as this can sieze
Eternal spirits; or have ye chos'n this place
After the toyl of Battel to repose
Your wearied vertue, for the ease you find [ 320 ]
To slumber here, as in the Vales of Heav'n?
Or in this abject posture have ye sworn
To adore the Conquerour? who now beholds
Cherube and Seraph rowling in the Flood
With scatter'd Arms and Ensigns, till anon [ 325 ]
His swift pursuers from Heav'n Gates discern
Th' advantage, and descending tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked Thunderbolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this Gulfe.
Awake, arise, or be for ever fall'n. [ 330 ]


Hell of place you got there!

Fallen is not damned. The Leo motto is Facta Non Verba -Deeds not Words. Our Deeds fell short . . .way short . . .29 points short of a tie and thirty of win.

Fall seven times and get up eight. Christ could not have Restored Paradise if he stayed down on the third fall. Christ never tanked a fight. He fell three and with some help climbed up for a crucifixion and death that justified God's Ways to Man.

Paradise Lost is no Color Purple, or Kite Runner, but needs to be read, studied and taught.

Eyeless on Gaza - Israel Mills it Alone. God Help Us.

. . .Promise was that I
Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver!
Ask for this great Deliverer now, and find him
Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves,
Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke.
Yet stay; let me not rashly call in doubt
Divine prediction. What if all foretold
Had been fulfilled but through mine own default?
Whom have I to complain of but myself,
Who this high gift of strength committed to me,
In what part lodged, how easily bereft me,
Under the seal of silence could not keep,
But weakly to a woman must reveal it,
O’ercome with importunity and tears?
O impotence of mind in body strong!

Samson Agonistes ll.39-52 John Milton (1608–1674).

All eyes are on Libya - for now. All eyes were on Tunisia, Eygpt and other Iranian backed satrapies in the womb. All eyes are on the gas pumps. All eyes are on Charlie Sheen, Michael Moore and the race to the Final Four. Soon all eyes on Rio.

Israel is being shelled from Gaza - again.

Civilian areas in southern Israel were heavily shelled by Palestinian terrorists in Gaza on Saturday morning, when more than 50 mortars were fired at the regional councils of Sha'ar Hanegev, Eshkol and Sdot Hanegev.

There is a push to force the new government in Eygpt to further lift the blockade of weapons to Gaza. The hand-wringers and do-gooders call that humanitarian aid.

I read. I read the news. I read the New York Times and posts from NPR, as well as foreign press. I also read literature. John Milton is one of those Dead White Men that Noam Chomsky and other fashionable academic nut-bags have managed to purge from textbooks. Milton is tough. He was tough in Cromwell's time and he is tough to read now. Toughness is endurance.

Israel is tough. By south side Chicago standards, toughness is measured by how much one can endure. Like Samson in Milton's epic poem Samson Agonistes ( Agonsistes is Greek for 'struggle,' or even 'athleticism'), Israel is a flawed hero.

Milton, according to the dictates of epic form - begins his poem In Medias Res - in middle of the action.

Samson has been blinded and forced to push a mill stone and grind for his enemies - this hero wonders if his sins have brought him to this low work, when he was to be the source of liberation for his people. Israel is not blinded but it mills for civilization,surrounded by enemies and worse -feckless allies.

Samson fights despair. Samson fulfills the will of God, in a manner unforeseen. That's how God rolls.

Israel fights annihilation, while the world goes dark.

Milton was no Noam Chomsky. Milton understood God's will. Milton endures. Israel endures. Let's see if the rest of us get our sight back.

If Only . . .Agonistes

Design'd for great exploits; if I must dye
Betray'd, Captiv'd, and both my Eyes put out,
Made of my Enemies the scorn and gaze;
To grind in Brazen Fetters under task [ 35 ]
With this Heav'n-gifted strength? O glorious strength
Put to the labour of a Beast, debas't
Lower then bondslave! Promise was that I
Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver;
Ask for this great Deliverer now, and find him [ 40 ]
Eyeless in Gaza at the Mill with slaves,
Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke;
Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt
Divine Prediction; what if all foretold
Had been fulfill'd but through mine own default, [ 45 ]
Whom have I to complain of but my self?

Milton -Samson Agonistes

Those lines always reminded me of the great people in public life, who struggle to do good for people. Some even end up in a Federal Prison.

One very good guy I know is sitting out the last of his semesters in Terra Haute, in no small part due to a very good man himself - several good men actually.


I just got off the phone with a genuine Chicago voice in print. He writes for one of the the two big Chicago Dailies.

We shot the breeze about a mutual friend who is having a particularly tough time - that friend is also in the cold and impersonal world of modern journalism.

Our conversation turned to things political -

"Hey, what's up with your Republicans?"

My Republicans?

"Yeah. You went all McCain."

Illinois Republicans blow their toes off - not unlike up-state New York Republicans. I like Dan Proft.

"Jesus, he has about twenty seven Cicero contracts and stuff hanging on him. Why can't you get clean once in a while . . .like with that Polish Kid Andy Andrecscxzjhykczxcszch? "

I work at Leo 'cause it's easy to spell.

We went back and forth on reform and the usual Who's-Who litany of rogues, cretins, feebs, dummies, crooks and phonies.

We landed back at good people. People who actually do something for other people -who will do anything without a Press Conference or naming of a Blue Ribbon Commission, or any one really ever knowing about it.

In Poetry things are neat; in prose, things are messy. Politics is Prosaic. It is un-Romantic. The Romantics in Politics - the Goo-goos; the Boiled Beets Progressives; the Dopes Who Believe EVERYTHING is like a Julia Roberts Movie; the Raving Lunatics Left/Center/Right - are the very people who screw things up. Romantic Politics makes more taxes and more corruption. It is a Hegelian thing.

It is the same thing in my Church - Romantic Goofballs like the dippy Nun escorting victims to an abortion - the poetic romantic channel surfers screw things up. Sister! Be a Unitarian Nun! They ARE WAY COOL!

We, Catholics, have had a very, very Gay Friendly Church Hierarchy and Clergy( Well, Who's to Say?) for well over forty years and then we find ourselves shocked when Father Daffodil is taking seven altar boys to Wisconsin with a video camera. Hey, spare me the 'Pedophile's Have Nothing to Do With Homosexuality' dodge - yeah, and pipe dope has nothing to do with plumbing.

If Only more attention could be focused on the people in public life who actually make a difference - no, not The Honorable Dorothy Brown - maybe, then, politics could start to work for people again.