They have been officially selected as the first “BLACK RIBBON Certified” biased Media Outlet!

They are even cognizant of the fact that they are biased, as reported in their OWN PAPER!!! (WP Article – A Slow Start…)

For all the reasons “why” they were picked, scroll down towards the end of the post.   (see the original site at end of article)

But, the call to action is the important part! Be sure to let everyone know how to participate.

This particular “battle” lasts 2 weeks, now through November 20th. Participate multiple times if you know what I mean!

Patriots, here’s what to do in 4 easy steps:

STEP 1. Download 3 “congratulatory” letters here and print them out! – PDF version

Fold and put in 3 separate, regular, plain envelopes.

STEP 2. Please mail your “congratulations” to three places at the Washington Post:

The Washington Post – Andrew Alexander (the Ombudsman – reader representative)
1150 15th Street, NW
Washington, D.C. 20071

The Washington Post – Marc H. Rosenberg (Sales Manager – Advertising)
1150 15th Street, NW
Washington, D.C. 20071

The Washington Post – new subscriptions (they COULD have had!)
1150 15th Street, NW
Washington, D.C. 20071

Feel free to mail multiple times over the next two weeks!

We encourage all fellow patriots, tea party members, and citizens who are a part of “The BLACK RIBBON Offensive” and followers of Operation Can You Hear Us Now to send a congratulatory letter by regular mail the three departments listed above. If you have access to it, be sure to include some symbolic “BLACK RIBBON” in the letters with your congratulations.

STEP 3. Send me an email (important!) letting me know how many letters you sent:

Email webmaster@operationcanyouhearusnow.com – Put LETTERS in the subject line and number sent in text field.

STEP 4. Spread the word to all of your fellow patriot friends who are fed up with media bias. Let’s flood The Washington Post!

downloaded from:      http://www.operationcanyouhearusnow.com/   on Friday 06 November 2009

He was drowsing on the couch, aware of but not really watching the episode of STAR TREK Classic on the Science Fiction Channel. He knew that episode by heart, anyway. He was almost annoyed when the phone rang; he had been right on the cusp of sleep, and the chirp pulled him out of it. He stretched to reach the phone without getting up.

“Mulder.”

“It’s me.” It was Scully’s voice, hurried, breathless. “Mulder, meet me at Collins and M Street.”

He blinked, wide awake at the first sound of her voice. “What’s up?” He glanced at the clock on the VCR; it was 11:12pm. He began to tense up; Scully was a homebody. Why was she out at this hour on a Wednesday night?

“Just hurry,” she replied. “You need to be here before midnight.”

“Scully what…?”

“Get here.” The connection broke.

He stared at the phone.  She hung up on me! Fear fired to life inside him.  Or someone else hung it up for her… He found his jeans, a tee shirt and boots, his jacket, wallet, ID and service weapon. He was out the door running in moments.

The drive took longer than he wanted, but this late on a weekday the traffic was tolerable. As he approached the intersection he started searching the crowd on the sidewalk for her. He spotted her car, and lucked out finding another parking space only a few meters up the street. He got out and checked, but she was not in her car. He trotted up the street to the corner she had named.

There she was, leaning against the light pole, the mercury vapor light making her hair look like a crown of flame. He looked all around, but she seemed free of restraint or constraint, and she appeared to be alone.

Then she spotted him, and her face lit up, putting her hair in shadow.

“Mulder!”

The sheer happiness in her voice lightened his heart; whatever was going on, she was pleased.

“Okay, I’m here, Scully,” he had to smile back at her. “What’s going on?”

“I got you a present, Mulder.”

“And you didn’t want to deliver it?”

She grinned. “Here.”

She handed him a small white envelope, and watched intently as he opened it.

Mulder stared at her, at the contents of the envelope, and back up at her, awestruck. “Scully !”

“That’s why you needed to be here before midnight.” She could not help it; she was grinning from ear to ear.

He was stunned.

“I won a radio call-in contest this afternoon,” she explained. “Who else would I call to share this with?”

“This is why I went to Antarctica,” he sighed. “Scully, will you marry me?”

“Sure,” she nodded, grinning at him. “Afterwards.”

“Deal.”

She put one arm around his waist; he put his around her shoulders, tucking her snugly against his side.

Together, side by side, they went in to face THE PHANTOM MENACE.

19990524/19990822

Most of what will show up here on my blog will be fanfiction, most of it based on The X Files. A select group of friends will be sharing space; generally that will mean more fiction.

I also have political opinions which will be showing up here, so watch this space. I’m no Glenn Reynolds or Moe Lane, but I have a gallon of pennies, so I can throw my two-cents’-worth into a lot of discussions…