Friday, November 21, 2008

Terrorist Bill Ayers' Non-Denial Denial

"[Barack Obama] is a talented and well-educated and erudite and articulate guy and he wrote two really brilliant and well-written memoirs. But somebody [Jack Cashill] did a textual analysis that proved that the nautical images in Fugitive Days were similar to his work and I was the ghostwriter...It's amazing where the paranoid mind can take you."---Weather Underground Terrorist Billy Ayers (Salon 11-17-08, page 2)

Ayers is calling Cashill "paranoid"? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!

Bill Ayers, a leader of the murdering Maoist Weather Underground terrorist organization was interviewed by Walter Shapiro of Salon (11-17-08). Young Billy probably picked Mao for his revolutionary hero because he was born on Mao's birthday, December 26.

Shapiro and Ayers tried to discredit research by Dr. Jack Cashill that demonstrates that Bill Ayers had a hand in writing Barack Obama's memoir Dreams From My Father (2001). Shapiro and Ayers were so afraid of Dr. Cashill that they didn't even disclose Dr. Cashill's name or provide a link so readers could see the allegedly "paranoid" evidence in his long series of articles. Instead, they dishonestly dismissed Dr. Cashill, a published author, as "a right-wing blogger"; and I notice that they didn't say that Dr. Cashill was wrong. This is called a "non-denial denial."

Dr. Cashill also noticed Ayers' non-denial denial and responded with a rebuttal (11-20-08).

I have also been reading Fugitive Days (2001) and Dreams from My Father and agree with Dr. Cashill that Bill Ayers, the author of Fugitive Days, had a hand in Dreams From My Father (1995).

It is clear that the communist Ayers and his friend from the old days Walter Shapiro are really dishonest people because they denigrate Dr. Cashill's achievements, call him paranoid, and mischaracterize his evidence. It's a classic communist smear-job.

On page two, Shapiro asks Ayers:

Did you follow the right-wing blogger [Cashill], I believe it was, who was totally convinced that you wrote Barack Obama's books?

Ayers responded:

I saw that because my oldest son, who is a writer, sent it to me. It was something that struck us as very, very funny. Barack Obama is a brilliant man, obviously. He is a talented and well-educated and erudite and articulate guy and he wrote two really brilliant and well-written memoirs. But somebody did a textual analysis that proved that the nautical images [here] in "Fugitive Days" were similar to his work and I was the ghostwriter.

Ayers' dismissive ridicule hardly qualifies as a denial.

Billy Ayers is nothing but a psychopathic maniac who was turned on by firecrackers and bombs. In Fugitive Days, Ayers describes US bombs dropped on Vietnam as "eggs" being "delivered" after doors "ease open." The plane is described as a bird laying an egg; it is an image of death juxtaposed on an image of birth:

[T]he doors ease open and millennial eggs are delivered on the green canopy below

In Fugitive Days, Ayers' mother “explodes” when Billy is born. She is both Billy's egg and a bomb, "swollen to explosive proportions and absolutely ablaze."

The air crackles expectantly in the Ayers' home on Christmas Day before Billy is born and is aromatic with the smell of cooking. Even the sweet potatoes baking in the hot oven are "splitting."

Billy Ayers may try to perfume his terrorism with the scent of his mom's Christmas kitchen, but since I know that the Weather Underground organization cooked-up bombs and murdered people, Billy Ayers' olfactory reminiscences evoke in me not the smells of Christmas, but the distinct and disagreeable whiff of that fictional culinary artist, the predatory Hannibal Lecter.

Fugitive Days recounts that Billy is the last "unopened present" who explodes on the scene moments after Christmas--December 26, Mao's birthday--and takes his place in the "hatchery":

Inside everything was hot and glowing—the flickering red and green lights on the little Christmas tree, the butter cookies fresh from the oven cooling on a rack, the chestnuts, the steaming cider. And, of course, Mom herself, two weeks past her due date, swollen to explosive proportions and absolutely ablaze. The aroma of roasting turkey and sweet potatoes splitting their skins mixed with the close and pungent scent from the nursery, and the air crackled expectantly. The presents had all been opened, wrapping paper and ribbon littering the living room, when Mom felt me stir and stretch. Here it is, she said, the last unopened present…and then—boom!—

...there I was, scrambling, I imagine now, for space and food in the hatchery

Elsewhere Billy Ayers describes his rebirth into the revolution, “a world in flames,” using the image of the egg:

I woke up one day—hatched out of the hard, white protective shell of my privileged prep school upbringing—to a world in flames.

Ayers' memoir Fugitive Days opens with a phone call from the terrorist Bernardine Dohrn. She tells Billy that his girlfriend Diana Oughton, Terry Robbins, and Ted Gold have been blown to bits while assembling a bomb. In the opening of Barack Obama's book, Dreams From My Father, young Obama also gets a phone call from Africa announcing that his father has died violently in a car accident.

As he sits on the couch absorbing the news of his father's death, Obama smells the eggs he had been cooking burn in the skillet and notes the cracks in the plaster of his apartment.

The kitchen scene in Dreams From My Father may be the rough draft of Billy Ayers' subsequent pungent olfactory descriptions and the egg imagery in Fugitive Days: In Obama's memoir, eggs--a symbol of birth--are transformed into a pungent symbol of a burning death. Why does young Obama note the cracks in the plaster? Perhaps because the father's death is a symbolic bombing:

I was in the middle of making myself breakfast, with coffee on the stove and two eggs in the skillet, when my roommate handed me the phone….your father is dead….I sat down on the couch, smelling eggs burn in the kitchen, staring at cracks in the plaster, trying to measure my loss.

Well, all I smell is a rat. And mainly what I remember from my Lake Forest idyll is Billy's demonic wife Bernardine Dohrn holding up three fingers and celebrating Charles Manson's grisly crimes:

Dig it! First they killed those pigs, then they ate dinner in the same room with them. They even shoved a fork into the victim's stomach! Wild!

If Billy Ayers cooked-up the passage in Dreams about the death of Obama's father, what does it say about Obama? Was he unable to authentically recount his feelings about his long-absent father's death? Obama must be an empty shell if he let this predator concoct his own father's death.


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