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Read how FBI altered a Supreme Court case behind the judge's backs after they proofed their galleys. What Fidel had on Bill (trip XXX videos) to get Elian Gonzalaz back, and more. Our story begins with King Solomon and Elian!

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New World Hors D'oeuvres

Michael Stephen Levinson

Ah, dear peers, do not pass go.

This is the story of the man who walked and talked with God; who was given words for all mankind.

With His Vehicle for World Peace, the Jacklegs, our Poet Prophet candidate for President, is Jumping Up on the granite steps of the United States Supreme Court when Elian Gonzalez intervenes.

With my own case pen ding, I believed in the Supreme Coats, those Supreme do-whoppers. I planned on spending my first precious minutes, with Goldbar and the Coats, before Goldbar took sick in his throat, crafting my Torah delight, the story of King Solomon and Baby Eliana.

It's a matter of historical fact. The record shows Baby Eliana was the original baby's name from King Solomon's High Court, centuries ago, and King Solomon v. "Baby Eliana" is the blind cite that beyond any shadow will settle my case, the unresolved Michael Stephen Levinson v. Federal Communications Commission and United States of America S. Ct. No. 95-5876.

King Solomon is my Courtroom strategy. My distinguished 30 minutes Jackleg spout before the Supreme Coats will stand on King Solomon's remarkably inspired jurisprudence, King Solomon v. "Baby Eliana," its ancient DNA well, settled in our bones.

With King Solomon's famous case for openers, the FCC's Political Branch, the group that even today, cloaks my right to make a political speech, televised live over the air, will get, within the hour, trenched, exposed for what they are, an "impermissible risk."

Unconstitutional!

But in fact, this current band of Coats has yet to craft more than a single line that even approaches King Solomon's bench, prudence of juris and all of that; sew, I'm hampered in re-filing my final petition because I know my writ, however well its polish, is bound for Goldbar's bucket of sound legal trash; nay, by his successor, Justice Robert's throat-consuming ditch, should history repeat, the juris diction of our Highest Court is breached.

Breached! The boundaries of our Highest Court's discretion, dumpster driven! Our inviolate First Amendment Right, the Public Interest that governs all writs, my affirmative Constitutional right to give, and the people's paramount right to hear, have heard my speech for President, broadcast live, then and now is sunken, un-redressed, and shot to fascist hell, our covenant demolished.

Jurisdiction is their unbecoming fix shin. The Federal Ex-Communications Commission, instigated in 1927, was licensed by our congress as adjudicator of overlapping broadcast cases governing bandwidth spreads, and also to decide who gets what and where and just how much of what we see and hear any one of the media conglomerates can own.

These air wave 'ownership' issues, of major Public Interest, are rightly dealt with in Washington, D.C., where all the lobbyists representing the telephone bells, cable cartels, and licensed air wave nets boldly reach for who can get the most palms lobster greased, in furthering their own selves' in tryst.

But when a candidate for President is denied media access for a live political speech, to state his case for election, this rarest of Constitutional breach, a candidate's affirmative Right, under our Bill of Rights, trashed; the issue of being given or sold the airtime for a campaign speech must be adjudicated in the Federal District Court closest by to the stations where the candidate, campaigning, plans his political stand, knot heard and procrastinated behind closed doors by untouchable bureaucrats, bought and bunched in Washington.

Yet according to the CFR, our Code of Federal Regulations, FCC has a Political Branch, a coven of civil servants, right up the street, a few blocks away from FCC's main gate. This Enforcement Division, FCC's Political Branch, is the codified group for redress of 'speech denied' complaints, subverting our Federal District Courts whose jurisdiction is our Constitution and Bill of Rights, and where, within a forte night's notice, Show Cause Orders can be tendered to protect your First Amendment slights.

Our founding fodders had it right. The Founders were all 'right on,' when they brokered our First Amendment. "Congress shall make no law . . . prohibiting the freedom of speech . . . or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people . . . to petition the government for a redress of grievances."

FCC's Political Branch contravenes our First Amendment Franchise! In practice, their Political Branch / Enforcement Division functions as an ironed legal curtain, shrouding the broadcasters' obligations to all the so-called 'fringe' candidates, however few they may be, but especially singling out in their frustraneous caprice, for nearly 30 years, just our "Jacklegs" candidate, his First Amendment Rights, stonewalled, one word describes them, fascist bureaucrats recalcitrant in their refusal to even rule on any of Jacklegs' Formal Complaints about his rights suppressed, until the elections were over with and a couple years bye passed!

Jacklegs' 'fringe' candidacy is their fash reference to our poet's tallis, his ancient Hebrew prayer shawl, an undergarment, four-cornered with fringe. Who ever said J. Edgarina's anti-Semite bureaucrats were an unsubtle fascist lot?

You have the right to state your case on any street corner; and beneath the umbrella of our First Amendment bitch through a blinding rainstorm, Freedom of Speech to the Heaven's reach.

Screech on your web site throughout the night, that FCC's "slippery slope," begat in 1927, wrought a fascist avalanche. You can blog all about it to your heart's content. But proving that a government agency's activities are unconstitutional and therefore "impermissible;" such an achievement giant as that can only be accomplished via final ruling from our highest bench.

Hark! Peer readership! World events interrupt us! The best laid cosmic plans of King Solomon's seek writ advisor, Onlion S. Shem, are current evented! We must take leave of Jacklegs' tale, "Jacklegs, Jumping Up," grant his Supreme Court case is over ripe; to rejuvenate the canceled citizenship of Elian Gonzalez, whose freedom was wrecked. Though we cannot resurrect Elian's broken rights, the Gonzalez kernel, freed of chaff, long over due, shall set you free en masse, to change the course of your human history on our good ship mother urf, nothing less.

Hearken again, dear peer-ship mates, the lot of you are by this writ, courtroom deputized, vested with Solomon's rags, to judge yourselves the fascist spin that cloaked, still cloaks our Elian, as King Solomon judged the original Baby Eliana's future in his own High Holy court, centuries ago, ruling on behalf of boaf would-be mothers, ruling right in half right down the baby's middle, until Ms Gullible pled for the infant's life unchopped, her maiden final begging at the holy King Solomon's feet.

Sew, before unmasking the reel deal behind Elian Gonzalez, we ought to refresh King Solomon's approach to High Court Justice, to 'keep our erasers in order.'

As far as King Solomon's "Baby Eliana" case went, the wise and righteous Prophet King realized right from the beginning, right from Jump Street, that of the two so-called mothers who appeared in his court, the both were bluffers, counterfeit.

Early on, after the trial began, nature called King Solomon and his learned chief, Rabbi Onlion S. Shem, together take leave of the bench, for a sidebar at the Pish-in-trench. There, Onlion S. Shem told King Solomon the actual facts behind "Baby Eliana" that he, Onlion Shem, had heard first hand from a camel driver who'd passed through Jerusalem the night before, from of all play siz, Sidon Town, where the bawling shiksa baby had been born.

According to the camel guy, neither of the two women petitioning for motherhood certiorari in King Solomon's Court, for custody of "Baby Eliana," was "Baby Eliana's" true mother! In fact, both of these single ladies were uncertified childless Sarah's!

De pen ding on who you talk to, or which of the Hollywood flicks you saw, the Hebrew Sages tell us, as your church school teacher taught you also, there were two new babies born that day in Sidon, from two separate mothers, but of the two new babies delivered, one was still born, and of the two declared mothers who petitioned King Solomon, they both affirmed the surviving out of wedlock child was from their womb and theirs alone.

Yet Sidon's papyrus records tell another tale. Only one new baby was brought into the world that day in Sidon, knot two new kids, as you were led to believe, but that one shiksa baby "Eliana." It was "Baby Eliana's" sickly mother who hemorrhaged during labor; her own life bled away giving birth to her kid!

This rare and tragic event occurred in the suburbs of Sidon Town, a couple days' walk from Jerusalem. "Baby Eliana" slipped from her dying mother's un-aborted womb, in an impartial birth; and this was where the Arabic shiksa baby case should have been heard and decided in the first place, in Sidon Town Court, closest by to where "Baby Eliana" was born, where the truth was apparent, absent the fash bureaucrats who butchered Elian Gonzalez' jurisdiction, which, his tale here / with, is fast coming next!

Yet first dear peers, of the two women who plead their case before King Solomon: They were both registered midwives, called on for a hemorrhaging mother, to help her deliver her "Baby Eliana."

At first baby sight the midwives were both delighted with "Baby Eliana," because the new baby, though orphaned at her birth, gurgled with ivory soap style; and between their bickering back and forth before the wise and Holy King Solomon, the two midwives waxed equally euphoric about their caring love for "Baby Eliana."

King Solomon was not your typical schmuck with ear laps, born yesterday. Solomon may've been born in the night, as all the Hebrew Sages tell, but not last night. The Holy King had a thousand wives, a natch a rill sense of humor, and his own, in-house Child Protective, managed by the local B'nai Briss Ladies Auxiliary. The Holy King Solomon was also thought, far and wide, the greatest love poet to have ever lived, the author of The Song of Songs.

Upon the bell ringing true from Onlion Shem, when nature called them together take whiz of the Court, King Solomon mused his ruling. Without prejudice, the Holy King Solomon planned on dismissing this shiksa baby case and remanding "Baby Eliana" to his own Child Court Protective for an immediate diaper change, as the baby's soiled diaper was stinking Solomon's Courtroom all the way up to its Holy rafters!

A wet nurse was also required, right away quick, for the forlorn kid had been stupidly fed some out-of-date colicky goat's milk; and then, after those two measures, some in depth interviewing of qualified women, for permanent foster care, leading to adoption. That is what the wise King Solomon intended.

But the pleading pseudo mothers' nonstop squabble over "Baby Eliana" challenged the King's even temperament, besides almost wrecking, yes wrecking King Solomon's favorite Thursday noon time lunch, that a rack of baby lamb chops, broiled med-rare, washed down with goblets of kosher merlot, for good circulation.

Sew this bold idea of King Solomon's, loudly calling on his personal butcher at the noon hour, to chop the Baby Eliana kid in half, right after lunch, ruled on the spot when his butcher interrupted the trial to announce King Solomon's baby lamb chops were only a heartbeat from the table; and upon that, King Solomon's instant ruling that even silenced the fussy baby smelling up his docket, was hark, only a lark dear peers, the Holy King Solomon's court ordered lark, a brilliant lark on the wise King Solomon's part as he rose to depart for a pre-lunch prayer.

Yet hearing Solomon's gut common sense, word for word from King Solomon's mouth, deciding the case as he went, and how the two pseudo mothers dealt with the King's decision on that unbearably humid, diaper loaded day in King Solomon's most High Temple Court is knot what you've ever heard or smelt before, except in your bones, where history is written.

Relative to our more recent struggle over Elian Gonzalez, the Cuban kid, found on an inner tube at sea, even Elian's name rings an ancient bell. In the words of Sage Yogi, laid bare, on this rare "Survivor" case that seems sew fresh, though near seven years past, our fair Sage Yogi says, "It was deja Eliana all over again."

What then does the love Poet Prophet of a thousand wifely one night stands counsel us, as King Solomon's Chief Rabbi, Onlion S. Shem counseled Solomon, about Elian Gonzalez, who was during his American hay day, by far the most famous six years old ex-refugee kid alive today on our good ship mother urf?

Cutting to the bone, King Solomon muses, we should have used our cutting edge technology, instead of a night court ad minis traitor's door busting writ to chop this "Eliana" kid in half, sew both sides could have won their case. The kid's father, Juan Miguel, should have been returned to Cuba with a state of the art computer, rigged for Internet, a video cam hooked up to his monitor, and a spiffy digital cam recorder for home movie shoots at the park.

The same setup would have done as well for his son, Elian, in Miami. Using Internet telephony and video chat, dad and kid could have been on line 24 / 7. Elian and his "papa," Juan Miguel, would have been instantly united, eyeball-to-eyeball day or night, by virtue of a mouse click.

In the event Elian snatched a buck from Marisleysis' dresser, and disappeared from his adopted house before dinner, skate boarding after the ice cream truck, it would have been for his "papa," in Cuba, to tell Elian's great-uncle Lazaro, in Miami, to give Elian a couple slaps on his rear end, ground the skate board, and order the kid to bed early without any nachos for snack.

On a Monday evening, before bedtime, Marisleysis could have read to Elian, "The Three Bears and the Chicken Soup," and the next night, over the Internet, Juan Miguel could've read to Elian that Cuban original, "Little Red Riding Fidel-hood."

Communicating via Internet, Elian would have been bo-jangled in the best of bi-lingual worlds, his papa close by always, his own life rich and sweet, laced with freedom and love which makes the world go round. Case dismissed with saving grace.

Every rescue anniversary, Elian could have announced his love of both countries with a personal televised pitch for economic peace and trade between his homeland and the U.S. of A. The natch a rill economic door between the two countries might have been jammed wide open from this miraculous child, his U.S. emigration bringing on true commerce, with Cuba's cut rate sugar saving the American people mucho billions of after tax dollars on their sweets.

But this Elianomic grace, here, a carefully orchestrated saving of face, was not yet meant to be; though, in the plainly spoken words of Founder, Ben Franklin, he, of principled $100 fame, "A billion dollars saved, with tax loop holes, is a billion dollars urned."

Peers-ships! In order to understand Elian Gonzalez' immigration case, and understanding means to get beneath; to get at the reel deal behind Elian's saga, and sense the role of our LAN' Lord uh pin Heaven, here in His promised land; and why President Clintstone arranged for a government agency to sacrifice the kid's freedom, we must yes, revisit King Solomon's original "Baby Eliana" case, that from a yesteryear collectively time stamped in our memories:

King Solomon, knowing by midmorning, upon three shakes of his member, that both of these 'mothers' were lying thru their teeth; and knowing for certain before they became so engrossed in their pleading, that " v. Baby Elianana," now before him, should have been decided in Sidon Town Court, the closest place to where the shiksa baby was born, where the facts were apparent, the Holy King Solomon was only trying the baby case to be fair.

As long as these two women had made it this far he let them go on with their falsified bicker. From the bench he watched them proceed, the both taking turns, shifting the fussy, diaper loaded baby, an arm's length back and forth between them.

Then King Solomon's chief chef butcher came through the side door into Solomon's Court, loudly announcing that Solomon's baby lamb chops were ready to come off the spit. Boing!

As King Solomon arose for a lunchtime prayer over his rack of lambie chops, he spontaneously ruled on the baby case before him, starting out with, "enough already," that instantly followed by a gavel smash totally silencing all the murmurs in his noisy courtroom, in clue ding even the colicky shiksa baby.

It was sooo quiet after King Solomon rising, slammed his eucalyptus gavel down, that when King Solomon said, "We shall chop this baby in half right after lunch, so each of the mothers gets the baby," you could smell the rustle of Solomon's glad rags in that pin drop silenced courtroom.

But the Holy King did pause as he turned toward the side door, which, all the Sages tell us, was to his left, and the King, from his bema, stood focused on the gavel silenced kid. Then King Solomon extended his right arm, his hand vertical, as though lining up the baby for his butcher, loudly announcing to his court butcher, for all in his cluttered courtroom to hear, "Butch, when you chop this baby down the middle," his fingers karate joined, moving to the right, "leave her nose to the right side half. From where I stand, this baby's schnozzle does favor the woman before me, on my right."

Immediately Onlion S. Shem proclaimed, "Case decided. Trial is over. Lunnch time." Upon that, Onlion S. Shem blasted King Solomon's official shofar with a long dour trumpet like note. Upon Shem's horn herald, King Solomon began singing as he rustled toward the door, "Rack of lambie here I come, here I come, here I come, rack of lambie here I come, God bless our sacred chops."

Responding to the Holy King's rule, the barren midwife to Solomon's right crooked her neck, put her own nose to the air, and noisily declared for her own supportive claque, "You see, I told you so. The baby favors me, not that shiksa dirt bag over there!"

King Solomon had had it with this case. He was done with these two fake mothers who'd falsely plead before him. Singing away, and bolting for the door, Solomon signaled his butcher to run ahead and turn the spit sew as knot to burn his rack of lunchtime lambie chops.

But the other would-be mother was devastated by the King's hard-nosed decision. Then this midwife Marisleysis hurdled King Solomon's railing, which had never happened before, or since, and she ran to King Solomon who was almost out the courtroom door.

She fell at King Solomon's feet, clutching his robes. As best she could, Marisleysis composed herself. An octave above earshot, the comely Marisleysis begged King Solomon, "Don't kill Baby Eliana. Oh! Please, oh great King Solomon," she begged, "Take my life instead. Take my life instead," she pleaded. "Let the baby live."

Had this gullible comely Marisleysis cried out, as all our great Sunday school Sages retell, " Don't chop Baby Eliana in half. Give her to the other one to raise," then, in his Holy wisdom, the great Hebrew Prophet would have denied the forlorn woman's plea without comment, simply because, in the first place, the Holy King Solomon was only half serious, kidding around.

What King Solomon understood; what the Holy King knew for certain on that diaper-loaded, smog-fried day, was that neither of these mid-wives was Baby Eliana's true mother! Of these two would-bees, who plead the whole morning long in his Highest Court, the both of them were born again consummate High Court liars, the both outrageously bearing their fibster false witness for the custodial rights to a colicky shvartza shiksa baby!

But this forlorn Marisleysis did not just say, as you yourself might have thought to say, "Don't chop Baby Eliana in half. Let the other one raise the baby." Indeed, the fair Marisleysis in King Solomon's court spoke as a true loving mother, from the depth of her own, near broken heart.

As though a true-to-life mother, Elian's mother, Elisabet Broton, the original Baby Eliana's mom who died giving birth her first time around, centuries before, this midwife Marisleysis past was willing to give her own life sew Baby Eliana could live, because on sight of her, at birth, in her heart Marisleysis loved the baby.

On that, King Solomon saved himself all the papyrus work from dismissing the diaper-loaded sticky case and arranging a place for the newly orphaned shiksa, under his own Child Protective, before hearings for adoption.

Instead, he gave the baby over to the righteous, though gullible comely Marisleysis, who plead her finale at his feet, because God above showed King Solomon that Marisleysis would be a great protective mother for the stinky-diapered shvartza shiksa baby.

Regarding the Holy Torah's teachings on the story of King Solomon and "Baby Eliana," King Solomon authored his own case law, with Onlion S. Shem in charge of the well.

The LAN' Lord uh pin Heaven, Holiest of Holies, held King Solomon's inky middle ear, the same as when God spoke to Moses the Teacher. God led His Holy King Solomon to rewrite Marisleysis' speech, hers plead at Solomon's feet, for his ears only, because God, in His down-the-road wisdom, knew that we, His chosen people, would be en massed with Solomon's rags for another "Baby Eliana," this time around, an innocent Cuban refugee, Elian Gonzalez, who was entitled to his life, to his liberty, and to the pursuit of his own kid happiness in America, the LAN' God promised.

Resurrections in the extreme are self evident, and across the millennia, few and none between.

Sew it was lettered in The Book ov Lev It A Kiss, Ha-Shem's inspired, ever unfolding Television Scripture, for His chosen Poet Prophet, our Jacklegs, to give on this His good ship mother earth, as Moses the Teacher, Dante, and old blind Homer gave; but this time, worldwide live, on all channels television, frum duss cun till dawn:

"This is the Promised Land.

That was then

This is now

Each land show its promise

Pow wow to the pea pull

Up with the folks." C. 1971

His 'Vehicle for World Peace' runs and puns through every spoken tongue. The twelve 'our' video trans crypt, lettered for all the worlds' peoples to sea, listen to, and be a part of all at once, sew, wun sin fir all, the course of human history, on our good ship mother urf, can change die wreck shins, by dawn. Big order.

This conception of world peace, beginning with a peaceful night, on whirled-wide television, was given to our Poet Prophet, the "Jacklegs, jumping up," 'onna ship 40 days and 40 nights,' in 1969.

He walked and talked with God who created the world, who revealed His word unto the poet's mind. Note well, our Jacklegs was 40 days and 40 nights, with God the Halogen, in the wilderness.

Jacklegs is knot the first prophet ever to live. He is today's.

The Poet Prophet is going to perform his multi-lingual poem for all the world's peoples at once, and whilst the Poet Prophet is doing his part, busily telling His vision, God, the LAN' Lord uh pin Heaven, creator of the universe, will move through His Prophet, via your television sets, into your living rooms, and into your hearts, to change your minds, the way you sea your world and all of His worlds to come. People will claim it's the Apocalypse, Judgment Day, a pox on yer lips. Correct. And you by the seat of your pants, in the Jury's Bach's. You can't beat that! Judgment Day is right around the corner; and you __________ (print, don't write), are beyond reproach, off the hook, on the Grandest Jury. As they say, in the box.

King Solomon muses:

Do you imagine J. Edgarina Hoover would let slip out, our Cosmic Wrapper, the Lenny Bruce like Bach's Poet Prophet whose words appear as most art, yet written down to perform live for all man kind? Have you blipped the radar @ michaelslevinson.com? Get the full "New World Hors D'oeuvres" via the PayPal Check Out before you peruse another word. Every thing you need to know for sure is on the page, waiting to be mouthed.

Elian Gonzalez, the child who was here, years ago yesterday, was rescued at sea on Thanksgiving Day, an intra religious holiday for all the diverse peoples who may cup God's country, America, the land of personal freedom and liberty God promised to you and to me, to all of us, really. On Thanksgiving Day, America's door springs wide for all the homeless and hungry. On Thanksgiving Day, God's promise in clue did Elian Gonzalez, a motherless refugee.

Donato Dalrymple, the one day only fisherman, recounted he saw a couple bottle-nosed dolphins, jumping on the sea top as though breaching whales, standing flip flop on their tails, and he convinced his cousin, whose boat it was, to give up trolling for fish and instead, steer by the bottle-noses to see what was going on, where they came upon Elian Gonzalez, in the words of this one day fisherman, "in the water, as beautiful as a freshly plucked flower on the sea top."

Donato's cousin knew how to swim, and he clambered into the ocean with the two wild dolphin lifeguards treading near. The cousin heaved Elian from the calm sea top into Donato Dalrymple's outstretched arms. Donato lifted Elian onto their boat and cradled the worn out kid to his bosom.

This one day only fisherman, Donato Dalrymple, is your typically innocent, humble servant of God. It was God in Heaven's idea to have Donato Dalrymple go fishing with his cousin that day, and rescue Elian Gonzalez. Donato's cousin, alone, would have kept to his reels. Left to his own recourse, Donato's cousin would have dismissed the pair of dolphins, a couple playful wild strays, horsing around with what appeared, from a quarter mile off, to be just some flotsam, an old inner tube adrift on the open sea.

Elian's bodyguard dolphins tread by the cousin's boat to see whether or knot Donato would toss them a fish, and to be sure the kid they'd baby sat all the way up from the Florida Straits to the eastern seaboard of United States was safe. Then the two untethered bottle-noses swam off to catch up on some much needed lunch, as the pair of ocean gadabouts hadn't had a bite to eat, like their charge, Elian Gonzalez, for more than a couple whole days.

King Solomon muses:

Elian Gonzalez survived Mother Nature's treacherous open sea because the bottle-noses hung out with the ocean stranded kid more than a couple full days, a most extraordinary dolphin behavior as has ever been noted in a 1000 years, and as many bottle-nosed dolphin tales.

Nonstop, the dolphins supervised Elian fifty hours straight, swimming alongside our helpless refugee, nudging the kid's inner tube to ketch the coastal Gulf Stream. And during the long drawn-out stretch, when curious sharks came by and reinforcements were required, extra dolphins happened to show up, to guard the drifting kid from potential shark brushes. Who trained these bottle-noses?

In God's eggs pan ding Universe God is the ruler, and of His Cosmic Universals nothing is for sure. On board His good ship mother urf there is a first time for everything, oar, you don't slip it into the same river twice; or put another way, whatever is, is, whomever she is, relentless Mother Nature or a spirit high above her.

The dolphins inspired, were a special pair. They kept watch and kept Elian afloat by swimming beneath him when he dozed, using their ocean worthy tails to keep this weakened, sleepy kid from sliding off into the choppy sea. By propping Elian back on his inner tube whenever the six-year-old fell asleep and began to slip, the bottle-nosed dolphins, inspired by their own un-muzzled sight of the Holy Mendel Spirit, for two days running, kept the special kid alive. Had the trip, splish splash, taken longer, the dolphins would've been there, slip sliding along.

Elian's ocean survival was a miracle from God, believed in by all of the Cuban refugees who believe in God. For the Cubans, Elian Gonzalez was a refugee message scent from the Highest of Holy Spirits, though why the kid was ripped remains an unexplained issue for all who saw him, years ago on TV, especially the Cuban Americans who lived close by to him, in Miami-Dade County.

But the Elian misdeal was a way cup for all of America, not simply pallah tics unusual for Miami-Dade's Cubans, as Elian Gonzalez's story, in one crafty "Slick-Willy" shaft, was fash recast!

Yet America's people cannot be faulted for their failure to grasp Billy's stacked deck, his own pollster driven twist before Elian's American freedom was revoked. It is knot just the poorest of our folk who struggle thru the traffic, as they must, to stay afloat check-to-check, put bread on their tables and pay their cable bills.

Working and wirkt,living in a blizzard of conflicting latest dope, all our ho hum potatoes, finally at home, ensconced in their castles, cannot find time to mull the news for any rhyme and reason.

Instead, the classic middle folk fall out on their couches whilst all the talking heads shred the day's current events; they followed by fresh skews and views from television's late night comics.

Solomon, the Holy King muses:

When the tribes of Israel were enslaved, complacently living rent-free in Egypt, and loath to depart Pharaoh's fruitful land for roofless freedom in the wilderness, God, sew to awaken His children, ulcerated the Pharaoh's heart. Yul Pharaoh Ramses decreed that his Hebrew slaves should suffer a serious batch of filmable afflictions. A rarely noted translation for the Hebrew word "affliction," is tax, which Ben Franklin thought should be flat, determined by spen ding. Keep what you churn:

The day is here

Ma schines kin run

In do the whirr kin

No tax on my hands

Bruther. No tax on my hands

Tax ma schines in stead. C. 1971

It is the tax on the people's hands, the fruits of their labors that covered Ms Janet Reno's Rule-of-Law enforcers who soldiered Clintstone's storm troop orders to press ahead and butcher Elian Gonzalez' life in U.S.A. Our Attorney General Reno, the enforcer, claimed her Rule-of-Law performance was on our behalf, though she seemed more an entity unto herself, having been given her lockstep orders from high above us, but not of us, we the innocent, lawful people, the Poet Prophet muses.

According to the Holy King Solomon, squadrons of bilingual angels hang out all around the Florida Straits, on watch full time, to minister the refugees' souls when their boats capsize, and their souls are swallowed by the raging seas, or their bodies, mauled by hungry sharks, are bled into waves of shock, heralding the souls' departures, Heaven bound. When the bilingual angels first heard Elian's mother, Elisabet, counseling her Elian over the crashing sea, that God would watch over him and he, Elian, would get to Florida and she, his mother, would always be with him, God's super mother, His Mendel in charge of all kids, appeared to the sea top angels.

This highest of spirit Mothers, above all the waiting angels and bottle-nosed dolphins of the uncaged sea, also heard Elisabet Broton's cry out to the LAN' Lord uh pin Heaven, that He should guide her son Elian, and this spirited Mendel realized why she, a super-charged spirit, was upon that windy sea top neighborhood, with God, the Father, the unsayable Universal Caller close at hand.

When something is truly miss tickle, as are the musings of the Holy King Solomon, his, a careful retelling of Elian's sea top story with the Mendel Spirit Lady, clearly visible both to Elian and to the dolphins; when presented with some sing truly mystical, we miss a lot, but we get a tickle.

The word, 'understanding,' comes from the Greek, and means, to get beneath. Suffice, the wily dolphins so inspired, clicked beneath our stranded Elian, and kept the kid afloat, sew you, too, dear peer-ship mates, herewith, will cut straight through the marrow in the bone of Elian Gonzalez' butchering, to get beneath, slough the chaff, and understand for yourselves the full truth of your not so long gone President Clintstone; revelate as to why he stoned your democracy, and staked our constitutional rights, to keep his missing legacy, like the Russian sub mariners,' submerged.

"History is written in men's bones." The dolphins knew that Elian would not make it to our U.S. shores without their handy flippers, round-the-clock vision and tail assistance. It appears beyond us, but we sense God's intervention when His truth is refracted for our collective mind.

The Mendel spirit was at the waves with Elian after his mother went forever beneath the raging seas. The visible spirit lady above the sea top angels, this Mendel-Mother-of-Life spirit lady ordered the angels to guard her newest charge while she personally went and rustled that pair of volunteer dolphins to baby sit Elian.

Sew, the pair of wild dolphins listened to the Mendel spirit's orders, to personally keep the kid alive until the Gulf Stream currents could carry them all to America's shore, this irrespective of dolphin threatening sharks coming by, or inner tube swamping waves, or overcrowded schools of tasty grouper, not too far, or a delicate stray baby halibut, swimming a half mile yonder!

The spirit lady admonished her deputized dolphin lifeguards, "Elian doesn't have anything to eat; so you two characters can keep close watch, for a couple three days, as long as it takes, without slipping off to locate yourselves a leisurely twunny course brunch."

Sew it came to pass, the sea top stranded refugee, Elian Gonzalez, was singled out by the LAN' Lord uh pin Heaven, to bob along in the ocean's Gulf stream with a pair of bottle-nosed dolphins for buddy guards, and survive, by his mother's dying cry out to God, to begin his new life filled with abundant, old fashioned family love, in America, the promised LAN' God promised.

Michael Stephen Levinson is a prophet of G-d! He has words for all man kind.

J. Edgarina, that pharoah of fascists, the pervert of dirt marked our poet down for destruction many years ago. That is why you have never heard of him. Enter the phrase 'Jacklegs jumping up' in The New York Times Archive slot. see what you get. Do you have a store? Get "New World Hors D'oeuvres" in your store! FBI will come and buy every copy so you can order more.