Editor's Note: We welcome J. Walter to the writing staff of WebToday. We hope our readers enjoy our new pull-no-punches-super-sleuth, J. Walter Diamond. Story number one follows...
News flash from the gumshoe. (8/24/1999) It's a dirty
job, but someone has to step up to the plate, cover the story
report the "unreported". Somewhere on Martha's Vineyard.
It was cold last night. Fog rolled in about 8 o'clock. Thick as
pea soup. I reached into my overcoat pocket. Next to a dime comb,
I pulled out a half eaten a tuna fish sandwich and a cheap dented
80 power scratched binocular, my good luck charm. When you're
hungry anything tastes good. So what's up with the Hillary and
the Prez? Somebody told me they're falling in love again, right!
You believe that one I have a copula more Brooklyn Bridges for
sale. Here's the inside scoop. Hillary needs to re-play the victim.
With all due respect, Dick Morris maybe right about her play for
the New York Senate race. The talking tour allows Hillary and
the Prez to raise money for her so-called big dash to the Senate.
However, if she decides not to run she keeps the campaign money,
for what? Good question. But that's the loophole, right or wrong.
Write your congressman and get the law changed, it stinks!
So they stroll around the Vineyard for a few hours, make some eye contact, hug a little bit and raise $700,000 big ones. Was the romance worth it? It's hard to get a decent picture, in the darkening skies. They mostly stayed inside, and 20 acres is a big estate, lots of trees and roving guard dogs, very dangerous. Hey, I guess it goes with the territory. I guess I should have spent more time at Harvard, worked little harder on becoming the "doctor" my old man wanted me to be. I guess we all have our dreams and other people's regrets.
So you want know what Clinton was reading all day Saturday? Not "War and Peace"; more likely some of Hillary's old Foster love letters. Hey what about the first Lady anyway? No wonder she has been so forgiving. With all the slime she is walking in; an widely suspected adulterous 15 year, on again, off again lover affair with the now deceased family attorney. Closet talk of her being the lesbian refusing to get it right or come out of the closet. Hey! Family values run high at the White House. Right! At least in the rug stained vestibule of the oval office. Thank You Bill. Choke on me. The truth has a way of hurting.
And the country needs a new set of presidential values. So then should we care if G.W. filled his nose with cocaine a couple dozen years ago? I say yes. Why! Because it was more than likely a bunch of times, but more importantly, he's starting out slipping and sliding, like ole saxophone-rooting, cigar toting Bill. Besides G.W does not seem like the sharpest tool in the shed, know what I mean Vern?
Just three weeks ago to the day I was covering a Boy Scout convention over in Kansas City. GW'S name popped up as the hot front runner, when a plump farm boy with red hair that looked like twin hay stacks stood up and yelled out "Is this fella smart enough to run our country" Someone in the front yelled back a little louder, "Explain that please" The high schooler took out a small black calculator and shouted back; "The answer is 340!" One of the meaner looking camp counselors yelled back " What is 340 got to do with anything?" The freckled face boy shouted back, If GW drank 32 ounces of booze per week, and one ounce of hard liquor kills 1,000,000 brain cells, he destroyed over 17 billion brain cells, for every year he hit the sauce, got it?" "The answer's simple, just do the math; 17 billion brain cells per year, times 10 years is 170 billion dead and gone brain cells. If he drank from the age of 20 to the age of 40 on a regular basis, he has destroyed over 340 billion brain cells! In Kansas, that's close to a third of a trillion brain cells!"
The farm boy continued, as the crowd grew strangely quiet. "Do we really need or want somebody slow on the draw with his hand on the big red button? A third of a trillion dead brain cells is a lot of dead brain cells, kind of scary, even more so than the Clinton-like booger- dance of dodging the cocaine bullet." " Of course he wants to drive a stake in the ground," the redhead sang out. "Who wouldn't!"
The kid from Kansas made a good point. Maybe the real story with GW is the 340 billion dead brain cells. Why do we want to start this dime- romance by giving this guy a pass?
Okay he's rich and he's Republican, is he the best Republican for the job? Do we let any of the candidates inform us, by inflicting narrow margins as to what and who they are, giving up our votes and our rights to question anything about them? Now there's a good spin on pinching our freedom. Haven't we learned anything yet, by trusting these smooth talking politicians? I guess not. Okay so he is a republican, why not choose a republican with more brain-cells? Hey. Don't blame me, blame the red-headed boy with the small black calculator in Kansas!
Do we have a few on the ticket, or is G.W. just the best thing his slick- money could buy? A man's ability to think on his feet could be dulled from a long-term booze addiction, and 340 billion dead brain cells could be a problem? Is he a dry drunk? Was he lucky like Hillary in business? What's up with the whole man. Do we have a right to judge? I say if you're brash enough to want to lead a nation of people, you should be strong enough to weather the storms. And we have a long journey left before this guy or anyone beds down at the White House.
Haven't we all had our fill of the Clinton's? They will not go quietly into that good night folks, unless we give them a little push at the ballot box. Hillary, please go home to Arkansas. They need you. Wouldn't it be worth an hour out of your day to have to never see their smiling faces again? Will it take a village armed with napalm to get rid of them?
One of the big reasons that I have decided to come out of the closet and start writing again, is all the shamelessness in our nation's capital and the awful hypocrisy called the Clinton's Political Spin. It seems that it may have rubbed off a bit. Whoops sorry Newt! Shame has no boundaries. White is now black, we are not sure what "is" means anymore, and public policy is now based on thinly concocted sham polls, that few intelligent people believe anymore anyway. Anyone listening out there?
If you are out there, send me an e-mail, always looking for that hot tip from mid-town Manhattan. Love to expose political scandal and write about the truth in a non-threatening and entertaining way. It breaks your teeth any other way. You can't report this stuff with a straight face; you know that in your heart. Tune in and tell a friend, we have some red hot topics to expose in the coming weeks. Information ticket ride the train. Look for us around the country, asking the hard questions, reporting the un-reported news to keep America strong right on into the new century.
They say truth is better than fiction. I will let you decide. At the end of each column I'm inserting a small piece of a novel I just finished. Eight years in the making! Murder On Wallstreet. Remember the 30"s. Reading the serial novel. Buying Post magazine so you wouldn't miss a chapter! If you like this entertainment/reporting let us know. If you hate the Novel, at least we're getting a response and we know you're out there. Who knows, maybe a respectable publisher will give me a book deal and I can leave the lavish high life of Washington reporting, buy a single-wide, park it down on Santa Monica beach across from the Rockford Files, my hero. Well everyone needs a bright light at the end of the tunnel. Right?
Murder On Wallstreet: The Synopsis
A quiet thriller set on five continents. The novel is replete
with: murder, doublecross and International political intrigue.
It's late autumn, 1975, Moscow. In a high-level meeting, ranking
members of the KGB set forth an ambitious plan to infiltrate the
most sacred institution of the west: Wallstreet.
The leaders of the KBG agree to bank roll five of their top agents, whose assignments will be to develop vast empires of wealth in the U.S. Their work will be directed in real estate, joint ventures an securities. They will seed corporate takeovers and do grand business in Hollywood in the entertainment business.
If they are successful, their fortunes will be returned, intact, to the Soviet Union, and be used to prop up a failing economic system and further a world-wide dis-information agenda. The Kremlin leaders hope that their initiative will help turn the communist power bloc toward a more western style form of capitalism.
Although purely fiction, the novel pre-dates the thundering economic-collapse of Russia, that continues even to this very day.
The plot thickens as powerful forces in the Red Army butt heads with the more worldly forces of a faction element of the KBG.
The story unfolds on five continents with action, intrigue double-cross and murder. As the personal fortunes of the lead characters rise and fall; greed and deceit become pregnant with unchecked ambition.
It's a deadly game. Four out of the five original Russian agents are killed. They learn too little too late, that new money has a number of strange dividends.
No fiction of late has come so close to analyzing the powerful forces and the dark underworld of the Russian government, its turmoil and stiffness to real change.
Like any good murder mystery, you must read the book to discover what seasoned veterans of the FBI and the Justice Department could not unravel.
This quiet thriller is set in a steamy James-Joyce landscape. A provocative train ride deep into the underpinnings of the mysterious Soviet Union. An up close an personal look into the diabolical souls of the power brokers and the military elite of Russia. Men who control the destiny of so many others, international power brokers dabbling in world politics. Masters of the universe, provocateurs of the game.
Chapter One to follow; don't miss it.
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