The Wisdom of G. Edward Griffin

I frequently read the writings of G. Edward Griffin. If you want to know what has happened to our Republic...please read his works.


A STRATEGY TO CONTROL THE TEACHING OF HISTORY

The question that arises in Mr. Dodd’s mind is: How would it be possible for anyone
to think that they could alter life in the United States so it could be comfortably merged with
the Soviet Union and, by implication, with other nations of the world? What an absurd
thought that would be – especially in 1954. That would require the abandonment of
American concepts of justice, traditions of liberty, national sovereignty, cultural identity,
constitutional protections, and political independence, to name just a few. Yet, these men
were deadly serious about it. They were not focused on the question of if this could be done.
Their only question was how to do it? What would it take to change American attitudes?
What would it take to convince them to abandon their heritage in exchange for global
union?

The answer was provided by another powerful and prestigious tax-exempt
foundation, the Carnegie Endowment Fund for International Peace. When Dodd visited that
organization and began asking about their activities, the President said, “Mr. Dodd, you
have a lot of questions. It would be very tedious and time consuming for us to answer them
all, so I have a counter proposal. Why don’t you send a member of your staff to our
facilities, and we will open our minute books from the very first meeting of the Carnegie
Fund, and your staff can go through them and copy whatever you find there. Then you will
know everything we are doing.”

Again, Mr. Dodd was totally amazed. He observed that the President was newly
appointed and probably had never actually read the minutes himself. So Dodd accepted the
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offer and sent a member of his staff to the Carnegie Endowment facilities. Her name was
Mrs. Catherine Casey who, by the way, was hostile to the activity of the Congressional
Committee. Political opponents of the Committee had placed her on the staff to be a
watchdog and a damper on the operation. Her attitude was: “What could possibly be wrong
with tax-exempt foundations? They do so much good.” So, that was the view of Mrs. Casey
when she went to the boardroom of the Carnegie Foundation. She took her Dictaphone
machine with her (they used mechanically inscribed belts in those days) and recorded, word
for word, many of the key passages from the minutes of this organization, starting with the
very first meeting. What she found was so shocking, Mr. Dodd said she almost lost her
mind. She became ineffective in her work after that and had to be given another assignment.
This is what those minutes revealed: From the very beginning, the members of the
board discussed how to alter life in the United States; how to change the attitudes of
Americans to give up their traditional principles and concepts of government and be more
receptive to what they call the collectivist model of society. I will talk more about what the
word collectivist means in a moment, but those who wrote the documents we will be quoting
use that word often and they have a clear understanding of what it means. At the Carnegie
Foundation board meetings, they discussed this question in a very scholarly fashion. After
many months of deliberation, they came to the conclusion that, out of all of the options
available for altering political and social attitudes, there was only one that was historically
dependable. That option was war. In times of war, they reasoned, only then would people be
willing to give up things they cherish in return for the desperate need and desire for security
against a deadly enemy. And so the Carnegie Endowment Fund for International Peace
declared in its minutes that it must do whatever it can to bring the United States into war.
They also said there were other actions needed, and these were their exact words:

“We must control education in the United States.” They realized that was a pretty big order,
so they teamed up with the Rockefeller Foundation and the Guggenheim Foundation to pool
their financial resources to control education in America – in particular, to control the
teaching of history. They assigned those areas of responsibility that involved issues relating
to domestic affairs to the Rockefeller Foundation, and those issues relating to international
affairs were taken on as the responsibility of the Carnegie Endowment.

Their first goal was to rewrite the history books, and they discussed at great length
how to do that. They approached some of the more prominent historians of the time and
presented to them the proposal that they rewrite history to favor the concept of collectivism,
but they were turned down flat. Then they decided – and, again, these are their own words,
“We must create our own stable of historians.”

They selected twenty candidates at the university level who were seeking doctorates
in American History. Then they went to the Guggenheim Foundation and said, “Would you
grant fellowships to candidates selected by us, who are of the right frame of mind, those
who see the value of collectivism as we do? Would you help them to obtain their doctorates
so we can then propel them into positions of prominence and leadership in the academic
world?” And the answer was “Yes.”

So they gathered a list of young men who were seeking their doctorate degrees. They
interviewed them, analyzed their attitudes, and chose the twenty they thought were best
suited for their purpose. They sent them to London for a briefing. (In a moment I will
explain why London is so significant.) At this meeting, they were told what would be
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expected if and when they win the doctorates they were seeking. They were told they would
have to view history, write history, and teach history from the perspective that collectivism
was a positive force in the world and was the wave of the future.
Now lets go to the words of Mr. Dodd, himself, as he described this event before our
cameras in 1982. He said:

This group of twenty historians eventually formed the nucleus of the
American Historical Association. Then toward the end of the 1920’s the Endowment
grants to the American Historical Association $400,000 [a huge amount of money in
those days] for a study of history in a manner that points to what this country can
look forward to in the future. That culminates in a seven-volume study, the last
volume of which is a summary of the contents of the other six. And the essence of the
last volume is, the future of this country belongs to collectivism, administered with
characteristic American efficiency.1

Now we must turn off our time machine for a few moments and deal with this word
collectivism. You are going to hear it a lot. Especially if you delve into the historical papers
of the individuals and groups we are discussing, you will find them using that word over and
over. Although most people have only a vague concept of what it means, the advocates of
collectivism have a very clear understanding of it, so let’s deal with that now.

Red Hawk

RED HAWK

He entered the church and immediately felt a rush of energy as he looked around the sanctuary. It was an old church and it had fascinated him every time he drove by it. He actually felt that the church was pulling him into it. He finally decided he had to visit that church!

Maurice looked at the old stone walls where various statues of angels were mounted as if they were sentinels standing guard over sacred ground. Breathing in the breath of God and breathing out the breath of God, he knew that the very presence of God was in this place.

He saw two chairs in front of the alter facing each other several feet apart, their occupants sitting in a trance state, eyes closed, deep breathing , as two women were behind them with their hands above their heads, then their shoulders, then moving down to their abdomen..never touching, but apparently cleansing something from their bodies. Maurice quietly slipped into the very last pew so as not to disturb the healing that was taking place.

The people left the chairs and returned to their places as two more came to sit for their healing. Maurice was completely hypnotized by what was happening. What was this ritual about? He felt compelled to go and sit in one of those chairs! He wanted the power of God's healing hands through these women, but he was afraid. Finally, when all of the others had taken their turns, Maurice slowly got up and made his way to the chair. The woman smiled at him and whispered, "God bless you brother. Do you have pain? Are you ill?" Maurice shook his head.."no". The woman said, "Ok, just relax and close your eyes. Try to clear all thoughts from your mind, but they will come. Just let them stay as long as they wish, and allow them to flow out as easily as they entered. Be sure to take some deep, cleansing breaths." Maurice closed his eyes and began to breathe as the woman held her hands over him. He could feel the warm energy of God's sweet spirit enter his head and move through his body. He felt his shoulders relax, then his abdomen and then his legs...finally his feet.

When the woman was finished she leaned over thd whispered, "Brother, there is a spirit guide here with you today. It is a Native American man with dark, flowing hair. He has a red hawk sitting on his shoulder. He says, "Do not be afraid, my brother. I have been with you since you were born. I am here to protect you. You do not need to worry about anything."

Maurice got up from the chair and returned to his pew. Who was that man? He had always felt a connection with Native Americans. Whenever he saw Native American art or heard the haunting music from the Native American flutes, it sent chills all the way to his feet. He felt somehow that he belonged at one time to an ancient people. What did all of this mean? Could it be that this little old church held the secrets of a past he was unaware of? Was this woman sent into his life to connect him with ancestors from long ago?

Several evenings later as Maurice was reading a book, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone pass by the door of the bathroom. He put the book down and went to see if his wife might have slipped by him. No one was there. He called out to her as she was puttering in the kitchen. She had not come into the room at all. Then he remembered the words of Red Hawk at the little church. "Do not be afraid my brother. I will be with you always." From that moment on, Maurice had peace in his heart. ......musology

The Bean

The Bean

Once, awhile back, a man was walking about in his garden and he found a Bean.

It wasn't much different than any other Bean. It wasn't a big Bean or a little Bean. It was a "just right" kind of Bean. the man picked the Bean up and put it in his pocket.

After a few days the man's wife was sorting through his clothes to be washed, and out fell the Bean. The woman picked up the Bean and looked at it very closely. As she pondered the Bean, she thought, "Well, it's just a plain old Bean." The woman took the Bean and planted it in a little pot and forgot about it.

The Bean sat in the pot on their front porch for months. The sun grazed over the pot and the rain watered the Bean. The Bean began to grow.

The woman and the man had been longing for a baby, but no baby came.

One night the woman had a dream. In the dream, a Spirit came to her and told her, "I am going to grant your wish, but you must do as I command. First, you must go out on your porch and dig up the Bean in your little pot. Then, you must wash off the Bean three times and eat it."

The next day the woman was looking out her window and she saw the little pot in which she had planted the Bean. She rememberd the Dream..so she went outside and got the little pot and found the Bean. She took the Bean, washed it three times and ate it.

In the summer, when the sun was shining high in the sky the man and the woman looked in the cradle at their brand new beautiful baby boy named Charlie...but they lovingly called him.."The Bean".

musology...

Note: after I wrote this story I was amazed to learn that my son had nicknamed my grandson..."Bean".

The Tiniest Twinkle

The Tiniest Twinkle


Once upon a time in the Land of Moon
and Stars there was a little Tiny Twinkle
There were millions of little Tiny Twinkles
in that land, but there was one little Tiny
Twinkle who stood out from all the
others. This little Tiny Twinkle was
the prettiest Tiny Twinkle ever to be found
in the Land of Moon and Stars.
She gleefully danced through the
Land of Moon and stars and all of
the other Tiny Twinkles loved her
dearly.

One day the prettiest Tiny Twinkle was
sitting on a cloud when the Master of the Land of Moon and Stars came and sat
down beside her. He said, "You are my most favored Tiny Twinkle in all the Land of
Moon and Stars. I have heard a prayer from a beautiful spirit in the far away magical land called Earth. Her name is Janna. She and her fellow Earth Spirit have wished on the brightest star in the Heavens. They wished for a baby.

The prettiest Tiny Twinkle in the Land of Moon and Stars stared wide-eyed at the Master. She asked, "Oh great and good Master of the Land of Moon and Stars, what do you want me to do?"

The Master of the Land of Moon and Stars said, "Oh Prettiest Tiny Twinkle , because you are the fairest of all the Tiny Twinkles, I wish to send you to the Earth Spirits to be their baby and give them joy all the days of their lives."

And that is what came to pass.

in the spring, when the birds sang and the flowers bloomed a beautiful baby girl was born to the Earth Spirits. She is the Prettiest Tiny Twinkle and they named her "Taeden".

And all the Tiny Twinkles in the Land of Moon and Stars rejoiced.

The Day the Music Died

I can remember the nervous pride I felt standing tall in the uniform on the 50-yard line in the Gator Bowl on a Friday night. Hundreds of fans were screaming from the bleachers waving red and white pom poms with excitement and anticipation to see what we were going to pull off this week.

Three very tall, very sharp drum majors in starched white uniforms and 10-gallon shakos slowly strutted out of the center of the band, stopping in unison with striking precision. With 400 eyes riveted on the trio, batons raised and up snapped trumpets, trombones, sousaphones, saxophones, piccolos, clarinets, euphoniums, cymbals, snares and that big old bass drum. With the strong downbeat of the batons we were on the march again!

You see, because of diligent practice under the direction of a bandmaster who spent much more time with us than his paycheck reflected, and hundreds of hours after school, we knew exactly how long that step should be and how many steps it took to get from yard line to yard line. We knew when to pivot, when to rear march, right flank, left flank and when to stop. We knew how to make that football field come to life with circles and boxes, weaving in and out of rank and file, all the while filling the staduim with rousing Sousa marches, familiar classical melodies and this week's favorite pop tune.

Then one day the music died. The children hung up the beautiful uniforms and took off their feathered shakos and put them on the shelf. Into their cases they lovingly placed the trumpets, saxophones, trombones, sousaphones, euphoniums, flutes, piccolos and clarinets. Snares and cymbals were stacked like steadfast soldiers at the back of the band hall while they finally covered up that big old bass drum. The bandmaster who had decided to make music his life, and help children do so as well, took one more look around before he closed the door behind him. You see, someone up there had decided that the children really needed another PE, diversity or basket-weaving class and there just wouldn't be enough time for band, chorus, art or theatre.

Now during halftime, the football field is empty as the crowd shuffles to the concession stand to the grinding, redundant beat of the digital mess blaring from the press box as the trumpets, saxophones, trombones, sousaphones, euphoniums, flutes, piccolos and clarinets tarnish alone in their cases. Rust in Peace. ......musology

Who Captured the American Dream?

It appears that Uncle Sam is heading at warp speed toward bankruptsy. Who captured the American Dream? When did the American Dream become homes, boats, fancy cars, flat-screen televisions, Blackberrys, blueberrys or iPods?

A group of patriots in 1776 in Philadelphia gave us the American Dream. These brave men preserved the American Dream for us in several documents. The Declaration of Independence, The Constitution, The Federalist and Anti - Federalist Papers.

Against the overwhelming opposition of we the people, our elected officials recently passed into law a bill that will most certainly lead us further down the path to economic destruction.

History warned us in 1833. President Andrew Jackson shut down the central bank loan sharks and investors-the gamblers of his day. President Jackson said to them, "Gentlemen, I have been watching you for a long time and I am convinced that you have used the funds of the bank to speculate in the breadstuffs of the country. When you won, you divided the profits amongst you, and when you lost, you charged it to the people. You tell me that if I take the deposits from the bank and annul its charter, I shall ruin ten thousand families. That may be true, gentlemen, but that is your sin! Should I let you go on, you will ruin 50,000 families, and that would be my sin! You are a den of vipers and thieves. I intend to rout you out!" Andrew Jackson slammed the door shut on the central bank. It appears we didn't learn a lot from "Old Hickory".

I leave you with the words of Thomas Jefferson:

"We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government..."

The American Dream is not found in the material. The American Dream is in the heart and secured for us in the documents those patriots left to us so long ago. .....musology

Gig Muse

I was musing the other night with my husband about one of the crazy gigs I've played in 30 years of the music business. I am going to take this space to ponder some stuff that has happened on my musical trek. I'm just not good enough to remember these in order. It's frequently amusing to view what goes on in a bar from the stage.

* One night while playing out at the beach, a guy sitting at the bar picks up a lighter to light his smoke. It ended up being pepper spray and knocked the poor dude off the bar stool and across the room. It cleared the bar for about an hour. That stuff really burns.

* Another night, playing at the same bar, it was slow on a monday as usual then, in comes an entourage of very drunk, happy people. It was Lita Ford and her record producer husband and friends. They were incredibally nice and enthuisastic and she said," I wish i had my guitar, you look so lonely up there by yourself, I'd get up there and play with you."

* I can remember one of my chick singah friends telling me, "You can get the crowd to do anything on the dance floor." After years of gigging you could see certain songs would generate similar reactions:

Old Time Rock and Roll -Right after the famous piano lick at the beginning, inevitabally some inebriated woman would yell "Whooooo".

Shout- You could count on the dancing bears twisting low to the floor at the section which went "a little bit softer now" and some would end up flat out on the dance floor wiggling like worms, and at the crecendo "a little bit louder now" they would inch their way back up to a standing position. I never played that song with out that result.

* For some reason, being a chick singer, I would get the expected request of Janis Joplin...but it had to be Bobby McGee. Nothing else she ever did would suffice. I've never been a Janis Joplin type singer, and It has come to the point that Bobby McGee is now on my penalty tune list. In later years, it would be requests for Melissa Etheridge..the modern day Joplin. Same thing with Patsy Cline requests...you could do every hit Patsy Cline ever recorded but you better not forget Crazy...because that is the one they would come up and ask for.

* Back in the seventies when the pop hit "Kung Fu Fighting" was on the charts, I was in a band in Karamursel, Turkey..there was always one very drunk female who would hit the floor in a mini skirt and go go boots doing karate chops and roundhouse kicks. The boys in the band always enjoyed watching that. I can't tell you how many times drunk women would "star" the band...sigh.

* Furthermore, there was usually one intoxicated woman dancing alone at the end of the night.

* I have played some odd gigs over the years in unexpected places. One time I had a gig in Grayton Beach Florida at an artists market..it was actually kind of a cool bohemian place. I think they had the fattest pig I have ever seen in a pen at that place. I was told Michael McDonald lived close by so i would always make sure I played his songs very loud hoping he would wander over and give me a record deal. I have played at grocery stores and one time, at an old fort in Jacksonville , Florida. I am a flute player and I had a penny whistle...the gig called for a snare drummer and a fife player...so...i was the fife player and my friend , Stephanie, was the snare drummer...decked out as a union soldier and a confederate soldier. We played at the moat bridge while people were filing in.

* I am actually an entertainer..and i have done everything from face painting to balloon twisting, clowning, and soothsayer. I did many "tarot card " reader gigs...lol. I learned a little about it, but I am certainly no real sooth sayer. I would wear a blue turban, and was "Madame Kosmos" from Romania..complete with a thick, accent from nowhere. I was amazed and kind of scared that some people believed me.

I will continue to add to this muse...as I remember things ...

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