WEEKLY SOUTHERN ARTS
"Sometime the boogaloo 
  • Home
  • Guns, Faith and Murder
  • The Million Dollar Store
  • Artistic Con-cepts
  • Judy Garland - "Soul Singer"
  • Robert & Jimi and the Twenty Seven Blues
  • The Great Pretenders
  • Imagine
  • Me and Junior Parker
  • The Republican
  • Sweet Home Chicago (The Obama Shakedown)
  • The Ballad of Hunter & Joe
  • The 22-yr-old Bottle Blonde
  • Is It Alright...To Be White?
  • Resist the Devil and He Will Flea
  • Music & Reminiscence
  • Lowell George searching for authenticity
  • A Telling Lie
  • Part One: The Monster Is Summoned
  • Like Billy Eckstein Singing to an Empty Club at 1:00 AM on a Saturday Night in 1975.
  • Bent
  • Kelly Joe Phelps
  • Why The Devil Don't Come Around No More
  • Hearing Junior Wells “On Tap'' one more Time
  • Muddy and Me
  • American Youth: The Rise of The New Media
  • Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Talk About Slavery and Shit
  • Just Smoke
  • The Big Maybe
  • The Skinny
  • Florida in Images and More Images
  • "Muthafuckin' Chains!"
  • The Inner Man
  • This is Not a Political Article
  • A Tale of Wine and Murder
  • Jesus Was a Sly Dog
  • The Existential Croûton
  • The Prison Yard Blues
  • Conspiracy Theory
  • 4 More Poems, 4 More Pictures
  • "Are You Freaking People Insane?"
  • 4 Pictures 4 Poems
  • The Ballad of Carlos Slim
  • Pretending What's in Your Head is True
  • The Cognitive Dissonance of a Faithful Democrat
  • The Human Snakepit
  • George Freeman - Unsung Master of the Jazz Guitar
  • The Price of Milk
  • Suspicious Minds
  • Bill O'Reilly Sexual Predator?
  • The New Soldier
  • Orwell Revisited
  • Larry Coryell - The Godfather is Dead
  • A Tiger Beat
  • South Florida - HOT & COOL
  • Jean Paul Sartre & the Existentialist Mojo
  • Culture Matters, Immigration Matters, Sharks Matter
  • Thomas Sowell
  • A Tree Falls In Central Park on a Gay Banker
  • Black Codes From The Underground
  • Man Talk, with Donald Trump pt. 1
  • Man Talk, with Donald Trump pt. 2
  • Brexit Was the Shot Heard Around the World
  • I Love The Dead
  • The Game
  • Goodbye Scotty Moore
  • If a Bluebird Plays the Blues Why Can't it Play Free Jazz
  • When David Slew Goliath
  • Why Cream still Matters 50 Years Later
  • Goodbye Lonnie Mack
  • Black Lies Matter, All Lies Matter
  • The Folly of Foibles
  • The Life of an Imaginary Historian
  • Angel: part 7
  • Wayne Cochran "Going Back to Miami"
  • The Last Damned Healthcare Article You'll Ever Need
  • The Gospel According to Mark
  • Angel: part VI
  • Ted Bundy & The Hunt For The Devil
  • Charlie & Clint: Dead & Deader
  • Trayvon & George : An American Hate Story
  • Jury Duty
  • Little Tommy & The Blues Kings
  • Kayaking "The Big Cypress" with Crocodlies
  • The Birth of The Jazz Guitarist
  • Gay Marriage
  • Garage Band - The 1960's
  • King Arthur, Pelagius and Original Sin
  • The Story of Ricky
  • Hidden Miami
  • I Hate the 60's: A Personal Rock Odyssey
  • Crocodiles and Alligators in Florida: Monsters in our Backyard
  • The Legend of Robert Pete Williams
  • Saturday Night At Big Tinys
  • The Case Of The Infinite Monkeys
  • The American Heritage Series
  • The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress
  • Blue And Green

The Magic Bullet and The Lonely Death of Jeffrey Epstein 

Picture
“The Magic Bullet and The Lonely Death of Jeffrey Epstein”

Everyone agrees, there were three bullets fired. Only three. One struck President Kennedy in the throat. Another missed completely, hitting a street corner. And the third bullet, blew the president’s brains out, scattering them—along with pieces of his skull—over the car he was riding in with his wife Jackie, Texas Governor John Connolly, and his wife. It was just the one bullet, however, that seemed to have magic properties, as it moved thru Kennedy’s throat and down into Governor Connolly’s wrist, smashing dense bone, and then into Connolly’s leg. The bullet would be found later, like a prized Easter egg, silently waiting, undamaged and in pristine condition, on a stretcher in Parkland hospital.

When forensic scientists tried to determine whether a single bullet could do so much damage, to two separate victims, and remain unmarred, they determined that the magic bullet could not be replicated. Not even if they just fired a bullet into a mass of flesh-like gelatin, which significantly scarred the bullet. Forget the dense bone and tissue from two separate victims. In other words, according to the official story, the magic bullet was truly magic. But it had to be since there were only three shots fired, forcing The Warren Report (The Government’s official record) to get the evidence to jibe. All of the alternative theories, no matter how scholarly, have since been labeled “Conspiracy theories.” This is where the term “Conspiracy Theory” became both an insult, and, a weighty part of the America lexicon, used to dismiss dissension, whenever it was needed.
There are dozens of other things that make the official explanation of the Kennedy Assassination “Fishy.” In fact, the whole affair is writhing in a stench so fishy that it’s nearly unbearable. But, pay that no never mind, since, to say otherwise, makes you a “conspiracy nut.” “Unstable.” “Irrational.” And, if enough powerful people say it is so, it must be. Thus establishing an unimpeachable narrative.

“Power” is the key to sustaining the narrative. “Power,” enables all things to be true, no matter how irrational. In that way, we can make a kind of sense out of Jeffrey Epstein, the billionaire pedophiles, death. Was he murdered? Was it suicide? How? Apparently, a confluence of unfortunate circumstances conspired to enable either, suicide or murder: the transfer of his cellmate only days before. Taking him off suicide watch, in spite of the fact that just two weeks earlier, he tried to kill himself. The fortuitous failure of the cameras to record the event. The overworked staff, which found themselves unable to properly monitor Epstein, giving him or someone else the necessary time to do the deed.

Meanwhile, all of the above had to happen at the same time, like dominoes mysteriously tumbling, one after another, unaided by human hand, or any other observable, external force. Even the autopsy needs to be reexamined, it seems. How hard can it be to determine that he hung himself, even if there is nothing to hang yourself with or from.

It is unlikely we will ever get an answer that will satisfy. Different sides will spin it; “It was the Russians!” “It was Hillary and Bill!” It was anyone you want it to be. People, instead, will do, what they always do, they’ll take sides. Even if, laying just beneath, is the most likely scenario. The human propensity for bias enables all things to be true, for different observers. No matter how absurd.

This is the tragedy of human nature. Even when we eat freely from the tree of Knowledg and of Good and Evil, evil still, is a likely outcome. It is our choice, and it is seldom ever different. I can’t imagine it will be this time, either.

​Mark Magula