It Blocked Out The Sun

I’m up before eight on Monday morning.  I have an important appointment at ten.  I have a glass of ice water and check my email before showering.  As  I commence my morning constitutional, the devil himself wades in and stabs my junk over and over with a red hot trident.

This is clearly beyond fucked up.

I never make it to the shower.

I gather myself and cancel my appointment.

I wonder if it’s a kidney stone.

I call my doctor and they tell me I can be seen at two thirty.

As the day wears on, each episode of relieving myself is more excruciating than the last until just around two, when I lose consciousness and wake up on the linoleum a minute or so later.

I would end up lying about this, only to confess it a few days later.

I’m late getting to the doctor.

BP 118 over 76 and pulse normal.

Loins aching.

I’d just been in a few months before for a full work up that showed nothing but normal.  Cholesterol is cool.   Liver and kidney function well within parameters.

He’s pretty sure it’s a stone(s) and asks for a urine sample.  I tell him no way can I give him one now because I’m afraid I’ll end upon the floor again.  Plus I’m not wanting to be heard screaming like a little girl.  He’s a cautious and reluctant physician.  He thinks maybe I should go to the emergency room.  I leave with a jar for my sample to be performed at home in the morning and a prescription for some weak ass painkiller that I’m sure won’t mitigate my agony at all.

I get it filled anyway.

I get home and the wife and kids are here.  I pop three of the pills and begin to marinate in my inevitable juices.  I know I’ll have to pee again sooner or later.

Sooner or later.

Around eight I decide to go for it although I know it’s gonna suck.  It does.  There really is no way to describe it.  It really is like being stabbed in the unit by Satan with a smoldering dagger.  There is the deepest ache along with the most searing sting and the sickest, most nauseating bloom of pain that reminds me of any and all violence ever committed against my balls as well as any time I’ve ever caught my pecker in my zipper times some crazy exponential.  I manage to maintain consciousness but I’m a shaky sweaty mess when I emerge from the bathroom as my wife takes it all in.

My father is somewhat famous for a number of colorful expressions, I keep remembering one in particular.  While gulping habanero peppers like grapes he would grin and say, “Makes childbirth an absolute pleasure………”

I’d read that the level of pain when passing a stone is equivalent to what women experience during childbirth.

An ER nurse would later confirm this.

Fast forward to about one thirty a.m. and I’m starting to sweat again.  My angel of mercy is up with me because she knows and she’s trying to talk me into the emergency room before I have to go again.  I’m on the verge of panic.  Her logic prevails when she describes a scenario where they will shoot me full of something enough to make me not give a shit and I will be able to pee and they will then diagnose and treat me and everything will be better.

This finally makes sense to me and we leave in the middle of the night and it’s raining.  She drops me off at the entrance and goes to park the car.  They give me paperwork and she arrives disgusted that I’m sitting there filling it out.  So with an articulate brevity and fierceness she describes my situation to the woman behind the desk.  I’m admitted abruptly by a male nurse and my BP is whacky.  Like 102 over 98.  My pulse is racing.

My loins are aching.

Very soon they’ve taken blood and I’m on an IV of saline and ten milligrams of morphine.  Within a few minutes I’m being wheeled to the Arthur C. Clark CT Scan room.  Morphine is nothing short of awesome in an ER at 2 a.m.  That is until you gotta pee again and then you are just as sober a five year old on the first day of school.

Unimaginable pain.  Without the morphine I would have folded for sure.

They now have everything they need.  Blood, CT SCan and urine through a filter like the paper oil cone they give you at the gas station.

Nothing in the sieve.

I’m reclining in the bed having accomplished everything I came here to do.  The morphine settles its hands around my head and face again.

I like the doctor.  He is young, which is weird because it makes me realize I’m just not.  He tells me with absolute confidence the the event horizon has expired.  I’ve passed the stone or stones and I’ve been torn up pretty good.  He tells me  I’m going to experience the same kind of pain when I pee for the next 24 to 48 hours.  Fuck me.  That’s not the bad news.  The bad news is I’ve still got a sizable one sitting in my left kidney.  I’m likely to go through the same thing again and it will probably be worse.

He gives me a big ass Norco and writes me a scripts for more of that as well as Motrin and something called Phenazopyridine.  It’s about 4:30 am and I can’t fill them until 8 am and I worry I’ll need them before then.

We come home and despite the crazy amount of narcotics in my system, there’s no way I can sleep.  I’m still afraid to pee again and my angel of mercy must take our oldest to school.  Our youngest has a cold and she stays home with me.  I doze and wake up in time to get to the pharmacy as it opens. I contemplate the DUI but decide I just can’t care.

I come home and dope myself up.

I start drinking water.

Within a few hours I pee again and it’s pretty goddamn bad.  But not so bad it scares me.  It gets better through the day.

By the end of the day I’m fascinated by the neon light saber coming out of my johnson.  The doctor told me the Phenazopyridine would make my pee crazy orange.  My wife and I marvel at the beautiful color against the background of our white porcelain commode.  I had to call her in and show her.

So I’ve still got one waiting in the wings. My left kidney. Between 6 and 7 millimeters translates to an asteroid potentially big enough to destroy the earth and wipe out civilization as I know it.

I imagine that it will just be about the time I stop thinking about all this every time I pee when that asteroid launches from my left kidney and makes it’s way on a collision course for my planet.

Drinks for my friends.

One Step Forward Two steps Back

I know this kind of deceitful seduction has been a part of American politics since our republic was born

But my mind is made up.

Up until now, as cynical as I am, I bought into it.

I hoped.

I did.

I’m guilty.

But what I see now is a breach of trust that threatens to, and probably should, divide the democratic party in the same way the tea party has divided the GOP.  In some ways for the same reason.  Purity.  The only real difference being that the tea party is developmentally challenged and real democrats can breathe through their noses.  It’s a fundamental difference but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

So yeah, a last minute must pass spending bill.  We’ve seen this movie before.  Republicans were tolerated and even encouraged to shut down the government over what, health care for people who couldn’t afford or otherwise couldn’t get it?  That’s why they did it and they were fucking proud of it.  It cost their party nothing.  They were lionized.  Heroes were made.

What we have here is spineless democrats who won’t even consider shutting down the government to prevent big banks from doing the same things they did to cause the second greatest financial disaster in American history.  They won’t do it to keep the taxpayer from hanging his ass in the wind for a $300 trillion gamble instead of the the filthy rich who clean up when the ridiculous risk pays off but lose nothing when all is lost.  They  won’t even consider doing it to stop the moneyed from being able to spend seven to ten times more to buy the politicians that make it even more convenient to do it again.

Seven to ten times more.  Think about that.  It makes whatever you and I might contribute completely meaningless.

They refuse to make a stand for what are supposed to be the core principles of what the democratic party is supposed to be about.  The defense of the middle class, the protection of the poor, minorities and the disenfranchised.  It cuts another $93 million for food assistance.  The amendments to this spending bill, written by Citigroup and overtly lobbied for by the likes of Jamie Dimon, are insanely avaricious and nothing at all else.    The democrats can’t even consider the threat of shutting down the government as a symbolic gesture over things they goddamn well know that no average middle class citizen could eat without puking.

Even if one were able to carefully explain these issues to the average bible thumping God and guns neanderthal republican, he’d come up swinging.

If democratic leadership is unwilling to draw a line in the sand here, for these things, then what good are they?

The democratic party now audaciously begs the question, what is the difference between them and the evil empire?  Obama, Harry Reid and company are no longer content with merely being the resident poltergeist.  They are now shamelessly complicit, more than willing to meet the devil at the crossroads in broad daylight and sign over the soul of America in the form of the “cromnibus”.

They sold us out.

Maybe we should just hasten our demise, vote for Mitt or Jeb or any other flavor of corporate fascist with a ridiculous first name and get it over with.

Be done with it.

What’s the goddamn difference?

I’ve never quite owned this feeling before.

The feeling that no matter what we do, we’re fucked.

Drinks for my friends.

Gaslighting

Virtually no one in America had ever witnessed such a horrific event live and free on television until then. It was simultaneously more violent, more chaotic and more disturbing than maybe anything we’d ever seen.  A handful of burly peace officers bearing down in concert on a very large, black man who lacked the sense to merely stay on the ground.

Yes, Rodney King was high as a kite and it was incredibly hard to watch.

The digital age of instant information, gratification, persecution and judgement was ushered in by the video tape of those cops beating the living shit out of Rodney King.  The flooding of our senses and sensibilities, the  numbing of our brains, expectations and perceptions by a stream of profoundly disturbing sensory information like a a continuous pyroclastic flow, had begun.

And they didn’t even kill him.

Every time it happens and there are no consequences, no indictment, no charges, no trial or no verdict, it all gets reset.  Even now, when we’re barely able to manage a breath until the next one.  It’s not that things are actually occurring more often.  That hasn’t changed.  What has changed is how often it’s broadcast and just how anaesthetized and inured at least half of us have become.

So for the very latest, we are witness to an actual murder of an unarmed black man who had done nothing at all.  Nothing.  The whole thing on video.  The coroner even ruled it homicide.

A grand jury still fails to indict anyone for any fucking thing at all.

And Peter King, a sitting congressman, is allowed to say it was Eric Garner’s fault for being overweight and out of shape without being pilloried, tarred and feathered and run out of town.  I hate this prick.

Sean Hannity managed to somehow link the travesty to Benghazi while “technically” objecting to the term “chokehold” by virtue of his experience as a martial arts student.  Idiot.  Giulani spared no decency in characterizing Mayor de Blasio’s unusually articulate and compassionate response to the grand jury finding as “racist”.  Dumbass. Rand Paul waltzed with the absurd in saying Eric Garner’s death was somehow the fault of an unfair tax.  Dipshit.

This the modern, post racial GOP.

Tone deaf, stupid, bigoted motherfuckers.

“Get away [garbled] … for what? Every time you see me, you want to mess with me. I’m tired of it. It stops today. Why would you…? Everyone standing here will tell you I didn’t do nothing. I did not sell nothing. Because every time you see me, you want to harass me. You want to stop me (garbled) Selling cigarettes. I’m minding my business, officer, I’m minding my business. Please just leave me alone. I told you the last time, please just leave me alone. please please, don’t touch me. Do not touch me.”

” I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe,”.

Sheezus.

Seriously.

What the fuck?

With Trayvon Martin there was no video and and not any “credible” witnesses.  Trial, but no conviction.  He was a thug and George Zimmerman was a hero.

With Michael Brown there was no video and plenty of witnesses, but none of them “credible”.  No indictment, no trial.  Brown was a thug and officer Wilson did society a favor by getting rid of an animal who caused him to fear for his life even though he had no documented injuries and chose to exit his two ton vehicle to be better able to take aim and fire ten more shots and gun him down from somewhere between twenty five and a hundred plus feet away.

They never measured.

What the hell are they going to say 12 year old Tamir Rice did to deserve it?

Cliven Bundy faced down all kinds of local, state and federal authority with his very own “well regulated militia” and not a shot was fired.  He committed actual crimes.  He still owes the taxpayers over seven figures.

A single white man, armed to the goddamn teeth, opens fire in a theater in Aurora Colorado, kills twelve and injures seventy and he is taken alive.  No video, lots of witnesses and lots of innocent people dead, injured and otherwise emotionally scarred forever.  He was taken alive and unharmed.  Afterwards the commentariat asks what happened to this fine young man?  What went wrong?

Now these are hardly original thoughts on my part.  They are on the lips of a lot of people.  But so is the question, WHAT THE FUCK?

http://aattp.org/tim-wise-pens-brilliant-editorial-on-ferguson-most-white-americans-are-completely-oblivious/

Drinks for my friends.

 

 

Juxtaposition

What we do know for sure, is what.

As in, what exactly happened.

The shooting to death of an unarmed black man by a white policeman occurred on August 9, 2014 in Ferguson Missouri. The police officer was Darren Wilson. The unarmed man was named Michael Brown. On November 24, 2014 a county grand jury decided not to indict Darren Wilson for shooting Michael Brown until he was dead.

That is what happened.

We also know how it happened. I’m not here now to revisit or belabor that how.

I’ve already done that subjectively in my last writing.

You can read that here: http://www.brainspank.org/2014/11/shaft/

Of course, the conviction with which I expressed my opinion on the how of this matter engendered some anger.

That anger leads us to the why.  Up until now,  I really haven’t been able to understand the why.  My understanding of it is by no means complete but the anger aimed at me has provided a glimpse into it and maybe it will for anyone reading this.

This is why I’m sharing it here.

I received an email not long after I posted my opinion on the events in Ferguson from a man I’ve known since high school.  I don’t mind telling you that this man is a typical small town conservative who imagines himself a pillar of the community because he’s on the right side of guns, God and the constitution.   He absolutely believes we live in a post racial society.

In the past he’s written much worse.  Far more vitriolic and disturbing.  But this proves to be the most compelling view into a mindset that for me at least explains why such things are allowed to happen.

I thought about disclosing his identity but it really is beside the point.  We were once “friends” on social media but he blocked me long ago I’m sure because he was tired of me kicking his ass all over the place and making him cry in front of his friends.  I absolutely enjoyed calling him on his bullshit. I get bored and it was cathartic.

What I am doing now though, is issuing a challenge to this man.  Offering him an opportunity to own what he wrote to me and by all means defend it if he can, on my blog for everyone to see.

I do hope he will rise to the occasion.

This is why I write.

This is exactly why I bother.

Pay special attention to numbers 7 through 13 to get a real taste for the unhinged.

Good stuff.

What follows is his email to me verbatim in bold italics.

Ok Mike:

Here’s the facts that you can’t get through your thick irrational skull:

Regardless of what the police department did or does, it does not change the facts and especially the physical evidence

Fact 1.  Michael Brown did not shoplift, he robbed a store, the latter involving threat or use of force and that is a felony

Fact 2.  Regardless of why he was stopped he started a physical confrontation with a cop who was seated in his vehicle

Fact 3. The much smaller officer shot Mr. Brown as they fought over the weapon

Fact 4.  Mr. Brown then scurried away and failed to respond by the officer’s commands

Fact 5.  Mr. Brown then ran towards the officer in what eye witnesses describe as like a football player going in for a tackle

Fact 6.  The officer shot Mr. Brown dead.

Fact 7.  Friends of the deceased made up eye-witness accounts that portrayed Mr. Brown as non-violent, and being shot in the back while running away with his hands up

Fact 8.  The liberal media rags et al made up stories like the store owner nor anyone else called the cops (albeit a recorded 911 call to the contrary)

Fact 9.  Race baiters Holder, Sharpton, Jackson and the POTUS caused further division and incited the uninformed masses

Fact 10. Professional white communistic inciters flooded the cities to cause even more disruption

Fact 11.  The forensic evidence tells the story.

Fact 12.  If the FBI were to contrive with the police, the prosecution, the grand jury, the race baiting Holder and everyone else they would have likely indicted the officer on a charge, the officer would have reportedly committed suicide while in fact was placed into a WPP, or some other method of calming the tensions.  Then again, Holder loves to promote race wars, so perhaps it was all made up.

Most importantly is fact 13.  People just like you who have irrational thought patterns inspired by your biases and filled into your brain with your so-called credible sources are the reason why this country is so screwed.  You fall for all the garbage force fed to you by big brother.  You actually don’t believe it when the main person who designed Obamacare says it was written so stupid people would never understand the repercussions.  You actually believe them when they say amnesty of millions will somehow produce jobs and more money.  You believe them when they say there is not a smidgeon of corruption.  You believe them when they say the Constitution is antiquated and needs to be revamped.  It is true, liberalism like yours is certainly a mental disorder.  

It goes without saying that I did my level best.  I pointed out to him the actual definition of the word fact as opposed to opinion and conjecture.  I went as far as I could to address that difference.

He didn’t get it.

There was, in my estimation, just one fact in his email to me that began with “Here’s the facts that you can’t get through your thick irrational skull:” . Number 6, “The officer shot Mr. Brown dead”.

My response to him is really beside the point because his position is that Mr. Brown was a thug and Officer Wilson was fighting for his survival.  Things he can’t know.  Things he doesn’t know.  Things he has no way of knowing.  Things, ideas, concepts he got from an irresponsible media that led him to believe were facts.

So, the onus is on this man to to enlighten us further.

Understand reader, if you don’t talk to him here, he won’t see what you have to say.  It defeats the purpose of what I’m trying to do here if you comment elsewhere.

This is your glimpse into why.

So, to my old friend who wrote the above, show us what you got dude.

Please tell us about the “Professional white communistic inciters flooded the cities to cause even more disruption

Fair warning, any emails you send to me will be reprinted here as comments on this blog, anonymously of course.

I won’t reveal your identity.

The floor is yours.

Bring it.

Drinks for my friends.

Shaft

It was all over before the shouting when county prosecutor Robert McCulloch opted to actually try the case before a secret grand jury as opposed to simply and traditionally allowing the matter to be tried in a public court of law.  The fix was in from the start.  Not just a stage set, but the entire drama enacted beneath a proscenium already tainted with a protracted history of racial animus endorsed and facilitated by regional cabal.

McCullough made a conscious decision to forego the proverbial ham sandwich.

It doesn’t take a hundred days to determine whether to try a white cop for shooting an unarmed black teen to death six to ten times from well over a hundred feet away.  It does however, take that long to construct an elaborate trail of distortion and obfuscation to to justify the complete exoneration and immunity from any future criminal prosecution and consequence of a white cop who shot an unarmed black teen to death from well over a hundred feet away.

Robert McCulloch labored at least as much as an advocate for the defense of Darren Wilson as he did to discharge his statutory obligation as county prosecutor.  He did not charge, nor did he recommend.  He orchestrated behind closed doors.  He took it upon himself to prevent a legitimate trial for an undisputed homicide.  He eschewed transparency.  Was there even a whiff of justification for the use of deadly force? Was there anything at all exculpatory in terms of lethal threat or the absence thereof posed by Michael Brown?

None.

I can’t help but consider these concepts and ideals to be central, vital and thoroughly unimpeachable in the pursuit of justice in any case where a boy is left to die bleeding in the street.  Shot to death.  Unarmed.  From over a hundred feet away by a policeman who suffered a swollen cheek.  Where in McCulloch’s press conference was there any mention of these things?  I didn’t hear a goddamn word about them.

McCulloch was thorough, articulate and reprehensibly derelict.

I predicted this exact outcome months ago.

I watch the chaos and violence unfold tonight on my television and it’s hard.  Hard to reconcile my heart and my head.  It’s so senseless.  So useless.  These businesses burning have no dog in this hunt.  The destruction is being visited on the innocent once again.  That’s some irony right there.   Most people won’t understand this.  They’ll see it for the crazy that it is.  It breaks my heart.  It breaks my heart because there’s a part of me that genuinely understands.  There’s a part of me that just can’t bring myself to blame them.

What most people won’t understand, what so many Americans simply cannot relate to, is that this is not merely crazy.  It is desperation.  It is the realization of a hollow futility.  When hope and justice are revoked by institutions, when the people who are led to believe they can trust and rely on them see them end in vapor, a profound vacuum manifests in that wake.

It is this that we now bear witness to.

Michael Brown was executed for adolescent hubris while being black in a town where he was only guilty of not knowing better.

Drinks for my friends.

 

Three Strikes

So, we smoked a turd in hell with Satan himself while midterm fires raged all around us. We opted for that as opposed to showing up at the polls.  A Michele Bachmann bathroom stall door closed, a Joni Ernst toilet overflowed and fecal chocolate logs made their way like mindless carp across the lavatory tile.

Shame on us.

Democrats who took it upon themselves to campaign on the accomplishments of this administration fared well. The majority of those who chose to run from such saw the mortal coil of their political lives shuffle out of reach.  Turnout was historically low.  In the districts and states where it was high, democrats won.  Still, for the most part, the will of the people was not realized because the people chose not realize their will.

Here we are in the wake of that.

They say these things happen in threes.

About a third of us showed up.

That’s disgusting.

Maybe the trifecta is the house, the senate and finally the presidency falling under the neoconservative, teabilly shadow.  They are on a roll.

Maybe it’s a TPP,  Keystone Pipeline and compromise on medicare/social security capitulation on the tip of our president’s tongue.

Or.

Just now, postmortem.

Obama got a little resolute with the FCC, telling them to stop fucking around and make the internet a public utility.  No fast lanes.  No big money privilege. Then he goes off to China, sports some  Spock Tunic and reaches some epic deal on carbon emissions.  And just lately he’s been rumbling about Keystone.

Maybe the triplet here is immigration reform.  Obama is not a man who beats his chest.  He’s not kidding.  It’s a pretty ballsy piss up a rope to Boehner and McConnell.  They’re throwing up in their mouths a little already.

The next two years are gonna be interesting to say the least.

Here’s hoping the presidential pen proves mightier than the sword by way of veto and executive order.   Senate democrats should be getting their filibuster tuxes to the cleaners while the rest of us prepare to not go so quietly.

Two years.

I say damn the torpedoes and full steam ahead.  It’s time for democrats to show democrats that they have a fucking spine before it’s too late if it isn’t already.  Fuck ‘em and feed ‘em fish heads.  Stop feeding us the populist talk and start actually walking the walk.  See how I gave you three cliches there?

What if democrats were finally able to show the working poor who vote republican that they’re actually democrats?  Tall order.  Easier to fool a man than convince him he’s been fooled.  But what if?

Democrats need to get mean.  Stop being mad and start getting even.  Make republicans pay for every stupid thing they are about to do under the illusion that this election is a mandate.  When two thirds of the voters don’t show up and the uber filthy rich take their place, there is no goddamn mandate.  Show some guts, some balls for once.  Don’t flinch.  Don’t hesitate.  Call their bluff and make them show us their ass.

There’s a hell of a lot of people out here you’re gonna have to convince that you’re not all the same.  That you’re not all republicans in frilly democratic blouses.  I can’t stress this enough.  Not just because democrats were such candy asses in this election but because they have a well earned reputation for it.

And I think this might be your last chance for awhile.

Here’s the math.

1) Social liberalism is peaking.

2) Fiscal conservatism is less popular than ever and it’s deleterious effects are punching down on the middle class with unchecked abandon everyday while the wealthy offer nothing but cake.

3)  The obvious mandate from this election is the absence of one.  In it’s place is confusion and disillusion.

See?

I gave you three.

Hint. The right thing to do is often the hardest.  Don’t worry about it.  Do the right thing.  And then go to the media and fucking brag about it.  Be self righteous and unswerving.  Be pompous, obese and eat cactus.  Americans love that shit.  The first rule of leadership is to lead by example.

Drinks for my friends.

 

 

Asphalt Ballet

Gas is at three bucks a gallon.  Unemployment is under 6% and the stock market is through the roof.

Everything republicans say they want.  On paper at least.

But America has been very unhappy and with very good reason for a very long time.

Tonight, America threw a tantrum.

Tantrums are never effective.

Tantrums are always ill advised.

Children throw tantrums.

Adults don’t.

Or at least they shouldn’t.

And now I’m going to throw my own, against my better judgement.

But, before I do, I can’t help but ask. what role did racial animus play in tonight’s election results given the widely held belief by the commentariat that this was a referendum on our first African American president?

Remember that scene in American History X where Edward Norton forces a man to open his mouth and place it on the edge of a curb before he kicks the back of his skull?  It’s called “curbing”.  Norton was playing a white power skinhead and he performs the “curb stomp” on a black burglar.  It is typically performed as a hate crime.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=curbing

Well, that’s what America has just voted to do to itself.  Think about it.  Despite all the gerrymandering, voter suppression and big Koch brother money via Citizens United, America has just volunteered to place its collective open mouth on the curb and invited the conservatives to kick the shit out of the back of its head.

You know what?  We absolutely deserve it.  I’m not kidding.  Sheezus Kentucky, Mitch McConnell again?  Hey Iowa, Joni Ernst?  Really?  In the United States Senate?  Really?  Her message was about castrating the cloven hoofed.  And Wisconsin, Scott Walker again?  Really?  This guy has fucked you people nine ways to Sunday, from hell to breakfast and it wasn’t even close.  Aren’t you at all bothered by how close together his eyes are?

Jim Inhofe, who believes climate change is a hoax, will head the EPA and the Environment and Public Works Committee.  Ted Cruz will likely head the Subcommittee on Science and Space.  Ron Johnson will take control of Homeland Security and Governmental Reform Committee and Mike Enzi will head the Budget Committee.  McCain head of Armed Services.  Fuck me.

Republicans will now be able to attach any and all bullshit amendments to any bill and dare Obama to veto it even if the bill is called “The Not Murdering Babies and Senior Citizens To Preserve America From Communism and Terrorism Act”   See, amendments are not subject to filibuster.  And it’s entirely possible that the republican senate will change the rules for filibuster the first week of January anyway.  I guarantee you they will try.

Here’s what I genuinely want to see happen.  I want the American electorate to pay.  I want us to suffer.  I want to see the repeal of the Affordable Care Act.  I want all those states who’s governors wouldn’t play ball in the altruistic expansion of Medicare, I want them to actually witness the inevitable deaths that will occur.  I want poverty to continue to rise and I want to see the profound impact on American families when there is no action on an already unconscionable minimum wage.  I want to see income inequality widen further.

I want to see more wars in more countries.  I want us to actually start listening to John McCain again.

I want discrimination against women and minorities in the context of wage parity and voting opportunity to be sanctioned by law.  I want marriage equality and LGBT advances to be rolled back by the supreme court and maybe even by constitutional amendment.  I want every drunk douchenozzle in every bar in America to be allowed to carry a loaded gun.

I don’t want the American worker to earn overtime pay.  I want to see college education so exorbitant that only old money patriarchal clans can afford to educate their progeny and for the rest us to see America lose it’s ability to compete in global markets for generations, while the rich get richer and it becomes more convenient for the American worker to be exploited while we become a third world country and economy.

I am anxious and looking forward to just how goddamn bad it has to get before we wake the fuck up.  I want Jeb Bush or Mitt Romney for president in 2016 with a republican house and senate.  I want this.  You know why?  because the people who voted these assholes in tonight deserve it and the assholes who sat this one out deserve it more.  The only way things will ever change in this country is when the people in the red states who already suffer the most, who are so spectacularly dumb as to consistently vote against their own interests, endure an agony so thorough that actual survival literally becomes an imperative and I want lazy, elitist liberals to experience the same.

I want to see the American people ground down to stubs.  I can’t wait for us to reap what we have sown.

Joni fucking Ernst?  Really?

“Socialism never took root in America because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires”  -John Steinbeck
America, you impressed me tonight.  I stand in awe.
Drinks for my friends.

I Know What Boys Like

We are this close to the midterm elections and the goddamn GOP is about to close it hard on irrational fear.

Isis and Ebola.

Fear porn.

How did we get here?

Completely random elaborately imagined clusterfucks that would not survive the advent of oxygen or sunlight if applied.  I am sick to death of fear masquerading as politics.

As reason.

The phenomena says two things about the American electorate.  Neither one is pretty.  The first reveals that by and large, most of us are dumb as fucking sticks.  Exasperatingly gullible.  The second one is not much better.  It says that progressive, forward thinking people are still too goddamn lazy or passive to muster a counter offensive to such ridiculous bullshit.

It’s unbelievably absurd that this late in the game, republicans can so conveniently and confidently count on the stupid, that they can actually be an efficacious tipping point in these midterm elections.  It’s unreal to me.  I’ve seen it happen over and over in my lifetime and I still can’t believe it.  Republicans call on the idiots and they show up in droves and democrats sit at home because they just aren’t quite afraid enough.

I am in awe.

The Orcs mass at the drawbridge while the democrats enjoy the first course of baby arugula with gorgonzola and candied almonds and a delightful raspberry vinaigrette.  We hear there is some sort of garlic roasted chicken on the way.

We’re so arrogant and complacent, so self righteous and magnanimous to imagine that our celebration and luxury of the upper moral hand is a luxury that we have somehow earned and much, much worse, deserve.

The teabillies will not win this election, we will lose it.

If it goes badly this November, it won’t because they lied and thieved and stole every vote they could.  It won’t be because they cheated an disenfranchised minority democrats and women.  They can and will do all these things. They are doing all these things.  They are enabled by the highest court in the land.  It is absolutely rigged by ugly, shameless, racist justices.  It’s awful and disgraceful and completely true.  The hypocrisy of the highest court in the the land is invasive and cloying.

There remains no question that in this age of entertaining the notion of impeaching and prosecuting the president of the United States, that we should instead be legitimately evaluating the impeachment and prosecution of various members of the supreme court for reasons far more compelling and egregious.

Over half of the highest court in the land is occupied by bought and paid for by good old boys.  They attend, speak and acquire remuneration from the filthiest of the filthy.  They never even contemplate recusal.  Profoundly corrupt as evidenced by their decisions as much as their abject failure to decide.  I am so with the notorious RBG.  She’s my heroine.  Otherwise, they are a scorch as well as a scourge on democracy and perhaps the single best reason to get your ass to the booth.

Having said that, if we lose, it will be because not enough of us showed the fuck up.

If voting in America were compulsory, no one would ever give a mad fuck what the 99% thinks or even wants.  No contest.  We would be a true social democracy and the bastards would still be rich as hell but they would not be in a position to rob us blind.  To suck every last drop from us.  To dictate social policy.  To shame the most stupid among us into voting against their own best interests because of christian family values.  To sell us so much fear and distraction that so many actually believe that Ebola and Isis are an actual credible threat to day to day life.

The idea that Isis or Ebola represent an existential threat is the property of obtuse.

It is the silliest and most illogical nonsense I have ever witnessed and yet, it’s working.

If we lose it’s because we are in an irreparable state of moron.

Once again, America takes my breath away.

Fuck you.

Drinks for my friends.

 

The Space Between

I still remember vinyl. The whole audio visual experience of riding my bike to the record store, buying a vinyl album, bringing it home, removing the shrink wrap, putting it on the turntable.

I remember setting the needle down, reading the liner notes, the smell of polyvinyl chloride and cardboard and ink. And then of course, the sound.

I remember it with Kiss Destroyer.  Joe Walsh The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get.  James Taylor.  Fleetwood Mac.  Supertramp.  Deep Purple.  Carole King.  Led Zeppelin.  Heart.

Analog.

There was vinyl, there was the eight track tape and the cassette tape.

All analog.

I availed myself of all these mediums as a kid.  I was absolutely enthralled by music and the mediums it was available on.  More than comic books.  More than the literature I was beginning to discover.  More immediate and compelling.  More than anything I knew.

We began to play instruments my friends and I.  They were gifted, I was not.  Thank dog I figured that out pretty early.  If I hadn’t, my life would have sucked.  But still, music.  Like nothing else, it reached all my corners.

So as I began to realize that I would never be any kind of musician, I began to understand that I perceived recorded music, the production and engineering of it, somehow more acutely than my musically gifted friends.  I discovered sometime later that I have, for lack of a better word, a “condition” called synesthesia.  I see sound in my head.  I can replay it in my head for a very long time after I’ve first heard it.  Every note, every sound.

I decided I was going to be a recording engineer before I even knew what that meant.

I involved myself as much as possible.  I waded in on my friends four track cassette recorders.  I discovered the limitations of really shitty EQ.  I started to understand reverb and delay.  I began to invest in stereo equipment.

I relinquished my managerial position at a fast food restaurant to work in my small town’s only record store.

I decided to go to school and study the craft.

I graduated with a 4.0 and received the outstanding graduate award.

I moved to Los Angeles and got hired as a janitor at the best recording studio in the world just before I turned 23.

I began to engineer and produce within a few years.

I produced, recorded and mixed my first record when I was 28 years old.

Less than a year after that, I co-produced and engineered a record that went platinum.

My point is this, I know music.  I know recorded sound.

Here’s the story.  What I know now is killing me.  I worked in a record store when compact discs first came out.  Perfect digital sound.  I thought they were amazing. I thoroughly enjoyed blowing the fuses on the the record store system with Pachelbel’s Canon. Signal to noise ratio was just too much.

I moved a lot in the years after and decided to keep hauling my books from apartment to apartment and forego my vinyl.  Huge mistake.  I am still grateful I kept my books.

I went to work in a recording studio and discovered the warmth of vacuum tubes and analog tape.  If you push tubes too hard, the distortion you get manifests itself in even order harmonics.  If you push analog tape too hard it compresses and eventually distorts but it’s still even order harmonic distortion.  The distortion is arguably pleasant because it is complimentary, it’s still, for all intents and purposes, in tune.  Digital recording and processing, when overloaded, produces harmonic distortion that is dissonant.  Of an odd order.  Third order.  Out of tune.  Not pleasant.  Ugly.  It’s an over simplification but it’s true.

I made quite a few records in my day and we always stayed analog until the last possible moment.  We mixed to half inch analog tape at 30 ips and cut our album sequence together the old fashioned way.  With razor blades and huge half inch analog tape reels.  Only then would we take it to mastering.  Only then would we load the project into the digital domain necessary to mass produce compact discs for public consumption.  We had the benefit of a pretty famous mastering engineer  shepherding us through this process.  Sometimes, going to mastering can be like going to the dentist for a cleaning.  It is then that you find out how bad you fucked up the record and what the mastering engineer can do to save your rotting mouth.

This man, this mastering engineer in particular, was and is a genius.  He often provided service and attention beyond our budget.  He was kind.  And there were times when he escorted us very gently into the digital domain because the record we had made required very little of his expertise.  There were times when he did much more than we deserved or could pay for.  He always did it though.  He would always say “got a little money, get a little EQ”. And then he would do whatever was necessary to make us look good.  It’s a fine art.  A voodoo art.

At one point or another he earned the dubious distinction of “Digital Dave”.  I made the mistake of referring to him by that name not long ago and he bristled.  So I understand that now more than ever.

Digital is evil.

Fast forward to the present.

I have just recently forayed into the world of recording again.  It’s been more than a decade since I’ve miced a drumkit.  I used to be pretty damn good at this and I found out I still am.  But it’s all digital now.  I rented some analog gear to cut the tracks. Neves, APIs Ureis.  I recorded to an old school Mackie 24 bit hard drive.  Not a Studer A800 III.

We transferred those recordings to a PreSonus hard drive with Studio One software to mix.  I am mixing with a mouse and a keyboard.  This is where I begin to hate digital.  I am impressed with it at the same time, however.  The compression, the EQ, the gates, work amazingly well.  I could not get the buss compressor to sound like an SSL and I could not get the snare reverb to sound exactly like an AMS nonlin program, but I got pretty goddamn close.  That AMS sound was a bitch.  Took me three separate presets and monkeying with the parameters for hours to mimic it.

Here’s where it all falls down.

Night before last I took a disc home.  We had been printing to a standalone CD burner. This time we’re out of the recordable discs that we can use for this particular piece of gear.  So we make an MP3 and put it on a disc in a MAC.  I bring it home, load it up and hear all the sonic shortcomings on my ridiculously expensive stereo.  Trust me, my shit is beyond reproach.  Best system you will ever hear.

I was confused for a time.  Where’s my bottom?  Where’s my top?  What is this weird frequency smear?

It sounds like shit.

Data compression.  All the world transacts music through tiny little ear buds now.  It’s an absolute tragedy.  A travesty.  It’s no longer art.  Why in the world would I aspire to make a good recording anymore?  It was the first time I’d ever actually listened to an MP3 file of any music, much less my own work.

I am in awe.  This is what everyone is listening to.  I’ve been listening to commercial radio again these days.  Where there is melody, it’s Fisher Price.  Production and engineering is clumsy.  Like a woman who has no idea how to walk in heels.  There is no product.  There is no art.  There is no artist identity or integrity.  It’s like music is over.  Give us a loop with subwoofer worthy excitement and an auto-tuned chorus mixed by some dickhead engineer who can make it the right kind of crunchy and we’ll put it on the Disney Chanel to lift pre-adolescent  skirts and sell phones and apps and gum.  Music is no longer performed and it’s no longer about performance.  It is assembled.  It’s fucking cheap.

Lowest common denominator.

There was a time in the not too distant past when an earnest musician with a modicum of talent could eek out a living in this country.  People not only enjoyed but actively sought out the practice and display of the craft.  People actually craved the visceral immediacy of live performance.  No loops, no tapes, just real players playing and putting it out there.  Now the only way to make a living is by being a tribute band or by being an actual famous artist from that era of yesterday.  Even those famous artists barely make a dime off of their recordings anymore.  They only make money by appearing as themselves live.

I can’t stand it.

I’m going to get to the point now.  This vulgar phenomena is a metaphor for just about everything in contemporary American life.  There are no more record stores anymore.  There are no more book stores anymore.  You can view masterpiece paintings online all day but it’s no substitute for standing in front of them and being able to see the brushstrokes and experience the color and palette and technique.  The goddamn genius.   Movies are increasingly sequels or remakes of tired ideas with more automatic gunfire and violence.  The only attempted update is well, more realistic violence.  More exaggerated violence.  More profoundly ridiculous violence.

This is not about me, some middle aged dude staring down the barrel of 50 years on this planet screaming get off my lawn.  This is about contemporary American society in decline.  Everything is now disposable.  Nothing valuable is worth a shit anymore and everything that’s not is now a priority.  Perception is far more valuable than understanding and appreciation.

You can apply this notion to food, to cars, to just about anything.

The very first sign of the  rapid decline of America on the world stage is our failure to appreciate what makes a society great.  Our contribution to the arts.  We no longer give a mad fuck about it.  We barely contribute anything meaningful anymore.  We lead the charge in discounting and devaluing it.  We no longer teach music in our schools.  Journalism is widely regarded as a joke.  Writers and painters have less of a chance of making a living than ever before and film makers only make money by being specious hacks.  There are entire generations now in this country that have no real understanding of the value of art at all.  They have never seen it or experienced it.  It all goes hand in hand with the rampant concentration of wealth, the insidious increase of money in politics.  The precipitous atrophy of the middle class.

The erosion of compassion is a secondary symptom.  The rise and celebration of avarice is perhaps tertiary but also the next to last stage of the lethal cancer we are actively succumbing to.

Our relevance will die, our society will fail, once our addiction to fear becomes so profound that the waging of war becomes our exclusive occupation and identity and we are well on our way.  We are in the advanced throes of this infection.  We have been practicing it non stop for 60 years.  Most of the world knows us more for our ability to make war than uniquely American contributions to art and culture like jazz, or rock and roll or our great writers and artists and film makers.

Nice calling card huh?

Welcome to stage four.

“When Winston Churchill was Prime Minister and he was told that there were going to be major cuts in arts and culture because of the mounting costs of World War II, he responded with a simple reply, ‘Then what are we fighting for?’”

Drinks for my friends.

 

 

 

 

 

The Lugubrious Liberal Skirt

Guess what pisses me off.

It’s a rhetorical question.

Precious liberals who quake at the very notion of Obama being anything less than the liberal messiah.

I am sick of this shit.

I criticize our savior and panty waste liberals piss themselves over my abhorrent blasphemy.

I’m an apostate.

A stranger in a strange land.

Instead, all you hand wringing “liberals” waste time and energy on indignancy over the latest birther conspiracy theories.  Like the idea that Michelle Obama was born a man and therefore cannot be the mother of the first daughters  Really?  Without a doubt if these people appear in front of you in the streets, take the time to piss all over their shoes.  But otherwise, pay them no mind.

Grow up. He’s part of the machine. When it comes to the military industrial complex, he is but a cog. When it comes to America’s overt and unchecked aggression around the world, Obama doesn’t dictate policy, he merely manages it for public consumption.

If he screws it up, liberals are perceived as soft on terror and law and order and we suck in the mid term elections and risk the general.  Because the fear has been mismanaged.  The President of the United States manages perception and expectation.  He does not dictate policy.  Policy has been the purview of oligarchs and plutocrats for decades before our current commander in chief was even born.

Get over it.

Grow the fuck up.

And yes, your vote counts because the more you vote, the more your vote counts.  If voting didn’t count there wouldn’t be such elaborate efforts to suppress it.  Efforts that are breathtaking in audacity.  Hundreds of thousands of women and minorities disenfranchised because the bastards understand they cannot possibly win a fair fight.   Get used to the idea of choosing between the lesser of two evils until the majority of progressives show up at the goddamn polls every time.

Consistency.  When this happens, we will be heard and change will occur.

But you don’t show up.

Even though we are the majority.

People who care, people that want economic equality, people who want justice, people who realize how pointless perpetual war is, are the majority.  Not just in this country, but across the globe.

It’s far easier for the opposition to manipulate the stupid than it is for our side to inspire the intelligent.  It’s so much easier to fool a man than it is to convince him he’s been fooled.

Organizing liberals is like herding cats.

We are a nation at war.  It is what we do.  We have spent all but a few decades of our entire history doing exactly that.  We spend more than half what the rest of the entire world does on it.  Like a trillion dollars a year.  Really.  That’s sick.  We could cut our “defense” budget in half and solve poverty, homelessness and infrastructure.  We could provide free health care and education for every single citizen.  Other countries do it all the time.  They pay for all that.  Because they don’t make war their main business.

But we don’t.

Because we are led to believe we should be very afraid.

Does that sound like a profound addiction to violence to you?

An abominable addiction to fear?

Is it any wonder that we are perceived by the rest of the world as a country of loud mouthed assholes?

We have earned that distinction by killing inordinate amounts of people all over the goddamn planet for our entire history.

Even our own from time to time.  It was quite convenient.

We really are badass.

It’s not Obama’s fault.  But it is his problem.

It is our problem.

He’s not handling it particularly well these days.

Neither are we.

We don’t win wars anymore.  We fight them.  We start them.  The two longest wars of our history are our two last wars.  Obama pisses me off because he’s in his second term and he’s not refusing any of it.  He won’t do it.  He’s polite.  He’s respectful.  Reasonable.  Qualities I confess I admire.  But I can’t stand it anymore.  He’s being as much in the face of insanity.  He could lead.  He could roll the dice and risk it all.  Say what he thinks and force what he knows.  But he won’t.  He may just be our last best chance before we have a third world war.

But he won’t.

I can’t stand it.

We the people, have to make him.

That’s the way it works.  That’s the way it always works.  It’s the way it’s always worked.

Otherwise we just start bombing the shit out of brown people again.  Like we are now.  Tens if not hundreds of thousands will die, many of them innocent civilians and when it’s all over, it will be way more fucked up than when we started.  It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.  Over and over and over.  Every goddamn time we do this we succeed in only making it worse.

And then, we just must go in and clean it up yet again.  We just must.  Yet again.  Yet again.  Over and over again.

And the scary thing is this, that’s the idea.  This is what your leaders, your elected representatives WANT.

So some of you liberals get all fierce and brave and block me from your pages for broaching the subject.  For being unpatriotic.  For being less than American.  For pointing it out.

Cowards.

You endorse aggression because of fear.  Fear of ISIS or Ebola or immigrants or Islam.

I seem to remember a time when liberals were pragmatic and I’m pretty sure it coincided with conservatives being stupid but sane.

The evil elite count on your confusion, your disillusion,  they count on it, they have come to expect it.  The stupid are always certain and vote with conviction, the well informed always have doubts because they are intellectually responsible by nature and are confused because they are open minded and just plain curious.  So they end up sacrificing the good for the sake of the perfect and throw their weight and vote behind some ridiculous goofecock like Ralph Nader.  You people really chap my ass.

Get a grip liberals.

You are the difference.  You are the majority.  If you just show up and vote consistently, you get able bodied employment, the ability to compete in a global market.  All of it.  No more slack jawed morons rewriting textbooks in Texas to promote creationism in classrooms, no more revocation of a woman’s right to actually vote or dominion over her own biology.  No more banks preying on you with egregious policies and interest rates.  No more flammable tap water and carcinogenic air and soil and food.

All of it because that’s what Americans want, and if Americans vote, we can have it.

Think about that.

You will never get everything you want.  But if you don’t show up and participate, you will only get what you don’t want.  You will only get what horrifies and disgusts you.  Like now.  And it will be no one’s fault but your own.

This blog is dedicated to my facebook friend Lizzie Borden who passed just the other day at the ripe young age of 76.  I will miss her fierceness and wit in defending common sense, compassion and her ardent defense of humanity.  She was a beautiful fish in a sea of cynicism.  May she rest in peace and may her family be comforted by the fact that she always took the high road and never feared to tread and resist in the company of those who would forgo decency  for avarice, to battle against those who would forsake love for power.

She was a gorgeous human being.

Drinks for my friends.

American Exceptionalism

Wow.

It’s like deja vu all over again.

One nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all, has been at war for all but 21 years in its 238 year existence.

Sheezus.

The talking heads tell us there’s no way air strikes alone will extinguish the latest bogeyman called ISIS or ISIL or whatever the fuck.  After all, they beheaded three westerners live on video.  It was on TV in 3D and HD over and over and over.  So our plan is to arm and train and fund the “moderate rebels”.  Nevermind that we’re fine with Saudi Arabia, one of the most brutally violent, archaic, misogynist, serial public beheading regimes in the entire world.  The Saudis do this shit every week.

Breakfast and then on to the decapitation.

Cocktails at three.  Virgins at six.

We thoroughly enjoy trade with North Korea.

Not Cuba, those people are savages.

But this Islamic State.  We must stop THESE bastards.

I don’t want to alarm you, but they are under your bed as we speak.  Really.  Not Cubans or North Koreans but yes, Muslims with murder in their hearts.  Don’t look.  Just make sure you’re locked and loaded.  Batteries in your flashlights.

The talking heads are conditioning us to accept that this will be a protracted campaign. There won’t be boots on the ground though, not unless absolutely necessary.  Wink.  Wink.

All this despite the experts pointing out that there is no existential threat to America whatsoever.

Can I interest you in a bridge or some swamp land?

War is just America’s way of saying it loves you.  It loves you so much we created, funded and armed the enemy.   It loves you so much you now have no choice but to fear for no goddamn reason.  America loves you so much, it understands we all have too much money and the ones who have a shitload of it just don’t have enough.  America loves you so much that we’re going to have yet another war to correct that whole wealth distribution thing.

America is very sorry that Darth Cheney’s empire only made $39 billion last time.

America loves you so much that it was forced to turn your local police departments into  militarized testosterone fueled terrorists to combat the lowest violent crime rate in decades.  America loves you so much that you’re way more likely to be killed by a cop than a terrorist.  Way more likely to be killed by your own gun.  America is glad that you actually fear terrorists more than your local police though.

America loves you so much that it also has to foment an insidious gun culture so pervasive and perverted that nine year old girls are accidentally shooting people to death at gun ranges with goddamn Uzis.

Your government loves you so much that it is going to lie to you for as long as possible about being at war until it cannot possibly deny that we’re at war again.  When that critical mass is achieved, your government will start telling you that the war is being won.

The problem is thus, if we actually win a war, that war should end.  They will tell you we are winning but they will be more and more reluctant to concede we’ve actually won.  Even though we haven’t actually won a war for 60 years.  We do not actually win wars.  It’s beside the point.  The people who profit cease to make AS MUCH if the war is actually over.

America loves you so much, it tries very hard to not actually end wars, even if there is a solution to the conflict.

Because then they will have to undertake the arduous recreation of starting yet another war with another foe or country or religion.

America understands that loving you means never having to say it is sorry.

Because America doesn’t give a mad fuck about Americans.

Being American means you never have to be sorry about anything at all.

Drinks for my friends.

 

Man In Picture Chapter One v3.0

I know things you don’t. Things you can’t. Things you would deny vehemently even if you knew them to be true.

Because of these things I know, I have suffered.

I am going to tell you a story. Before I am done, you will be sorry you heard it. By the time I am done you will most likely begin to doubt everything you thought you knew. Before I am done, you will have trouble resting your head on your pillow at night. By the time I am done, there will be no peace in your bed, between your sheets and blankets or in your head while it rests on your pillow.  Because you will see no reason why it cannot happen to you.

This is not my objective.

Well, maybe it is.

Sorry.

All human beings serve at the pleasure of evil no matter what name they give it.

I know that now.

I feel like I first noticed him by accident.  I didn’t see him as the goddamn devil or anything.  Not at first anyway.  No horns,  no cloven hooves, no bifurcated tongue or stench of brimstone.  He did smell dirty.  Porcine.  I will tell you that before it was all over I was reduced to praying to a God I never believed in.

It was no accident.

Still, in the beginning, I had fun with it.  For awhile.  It’s true, I did. I wasn’t afraid at first.  Not really anyway.  I was cocky.  Dumb.  Cynical.

At first it was like picking a scab or scratching a rash.  I hated it but I liked it.  Savory and sweet.  It’s how evil works.

All this until he stood over my bed one windless night and some sense caused me to open my eyes.  To surface from twilight wandering.  He inhaled with a rattle.  He sucked back ropes and vines of spittle and mucus from his lips and giant teeth.  He dropped an index finger on my sternum and it reeked of dirt and grease and gasoline.  His nails were long, black and mottled.  He said nothing but he looked right at me.  Not through me, but straight at me.  He stank of things rotting and seething in dark places.

He fucking stank.

He sighed then, as though he lamented being so disturbing.  Like he was sorry for just how horrific he was, lit only by the moon breaking through my window behind him.

He paused for a time and vibrated with naked rage over my bed with his finger on my chest.

I was frozen.  Paralyzed. The sliding door to my balcony was open,  and some breeze finally clattered the vertical blinds, bringing the odor of animals.  Pig shit.  He turned and walked away tapping the walls as he went, away from my bed and out my front door. I heard him close it quietly behind him and somehow lock it from outside.  He rapped the walls with his knuckles all the way down the hall and down the stairs to the street exit.

I know because I heard it.  Somehow, I could hear it.

The cancer seduces you and before you know it, you’re complicit.  You are stained all over.  Within the cage of a single season I was neck deep.  I was delivered from sobriety and inebriation into madness.

I slept in my own piss.

Goddamn.

 

Oh Brother There You Art.

Wanna know what puts the fear of God in me?  Just how many goddamn self righteous all knowing mouth breathers in this country that still cling to the archaic notion that the earth is only two or six thousand years old.  The people who maintain with a straight face and beatific countenance that the only reason dinosaurs no longer walk among us is because they didn’t make it on to Noah’s fucking Ark.

I’ve had it with organized religion. I can’t stand it.

All of life, all of the perception and preparation for life is the careful balance between instant gratification and delayed gratification and there is no other institution invented by man that manages and manipulates that balance better than organized religion.  Catholic, Jew, Muslim, Hindu, Baptist ……..whatever the goddamn hell.  Organized religion understands very well that it is far more difficult to convince an individual they have been fooled than it is to fool them to begin with.

So they do the best they can to get to them early.

America wages war under the guise of religious righteousness.  Either that or some perverted brand of religious nationalism.  Take your pick.  Pat Robertson or Ted Nugent.  The serpent is of the same the same species of jingo.

You know, God, country, guns, family values……..

I can’t stand it.

It is an excuse for war, execution, discrimination, bigotry, misogyny, molestation of children, rape, murder, conquest, persecution and prosecution in no particular order but perhaps more than anything it provides stupid, willfully ignorant people justification to pass judgement on other people they know nothing about.  It’s an alibi for just about every brand of fuckery humans engage in.

I am sick to death of it.

We pretend it’s about other things.

Ideology.

Sure.

Politics.

Yep.

Religion.

That’s the curtain.

Money, industry, oil, money, oil, you bet.

America has a vested interest in in places that don’t make sense because America is oil.  The most profitable business in the history of humankind is oil.  Most of the biggest companies who trade in fossil fuels hang their hat in America on one hook or another.  These companies totally run our shit.  They dictate our choices.  They own our media.  They now write our legislation.  They decide what information we have access to.  They ooze into our food and water without consequence.

Welcome to exactly how religion manifests itself.  Have a nice day.

I’m only in the know because I have a decoder ring.

When you run afoul of these companies your name starts to sound like Snowden or Manning.  Maybe Ellsburg.  Chomsky or even Einstein.  The only thing these people have in common is shining a light on what it is we are doing to ourselves.  Throw Greenwald, Scahill and Taibi in the mix, they’re brave bastards too.

There was a plan in place for Iraq before we went in the second time to carve it up by petroleum interest.  By company.  Bases and installations were named after oil companies.  How fucking sick is that?

We did that.

THAT is why we did that.

We went there and we showed them just how much havoc we could visit on their heads.  We weren’t there to fuck around.  We killed so many of them that we don’t really know how many we killed.  Clearly, we are not done.  Iraq is a new front again, Afghanistan is waning so we turn to our old ally, Israel.  They love us. We can wage war from their geography until the cows come home.

We give them $6 million a day.

Everyday.

Neoconservative Christians can’t wait for the rapture/apocalypse and Israel is totally on board.

Two of the most powerful factions on the planet banking on Santa Clause.  What am I missing here?

Even the Zionists are getting played.

We’ve got ISIS, ISIL, IS, Al Qaeda, Hamas, Hezbollah, Sunni, Shia…………we are either Dr. Frankenstein or the monster himself in each case.  Creatures of the American device.

And all of this is sold to us under the guise that we somehow have a right because our imaginary man is better than their imaginary man.  Our imaginary man is righteous and can therefore usurp the land and murder the people who are friends with some other imaginary man.  It’s always a man, isn’t that convenient?

And people actually buy it.  They believe it.  They feel positively good about it.  Mindless celebrants of myth.

On both sides.

Really.

The only thing that makes me fear God is the people who believe in him and there is way too many of them.

While we sit here, while you read this, we are bombing the ever loving shit out of brown people that never did a damn thing to us.  People that never used to even wish bad things for us.

People now.  People starting to think about you and me.  People who’ve hated us for awhile.  It is our dollars and our gear that decapitate their children.  They are thinking about us.  About you and me.  They are hating us.  Can you blame them?

Do they hate us or do they hate our God?

Beware the most pious, they are always infected with the disease of the most advanced hypocrisy.

Drinks for my friends.

 

 

Damn Nation

You are here.

No closer.

I keep paying attention to this.

I keep pointing it out.

There is just enough to keep the women and kids all fired up.  Just enough to make us all afraid of things we don’t understand.  Things they aren’t about to explain.

We can dance to it but we absolutely hate the beat.

At least the American impetus is often enough about race exclusively.  Spectacularly.  Race on the most granular level.  Not only its institutionalization but the  bones of the implementation.   The talking points of bigotry.  Calves the size of cantaloupes on drug mules threatening our way of life and diseases like Ebola flooding our borders every minute.  Stealing our jobs and all like that.

It’s a goddamn political discipline.

The indiscriminate killing of young black men because they are young and black and because entire swaths of America have decided that they are a problem before figuring out they are human.

You know, the fundamentals.

White cop shoots unarmed black kid to death from like twenty feet away.  Unarmed. With extreme prejudice.  At least six times.  Twenty feet away.  Broad daylight.  Almost two weeks ago.  Eyewitnesses.  No tazer.  No backup.  Walked around the body for awhile.   Hasn’t even been charged. You gotta be kidding me.  They need a grand jury.  Might take until mid October.  That’s some bullshit.  Everybody knows who did it and it’s murder.

The cop never even filed a report.  Think about that.  He never filed a real goddamn report.  Who’s kidding who here?

5th amendment about to become  an eight hundred pound pain in the ass.

Everybody knows.

The local powers think it’s a secret.  Really.  They think they are keeping a secret from the world.  Kinda like they believe they have superhuman abilities of deception and obfuscation and no one suspects anything at all.  It’s like they don’t know that we can see.   What kind of bubble are these abominable white men living in?  They leak unrelated information, video, toxicology, they invent blunt force trauma injuries nearly two weeks after the fact.

What we have here is an entire municipality with lungs that turn oxygen into shit.

More than anything else,  I’m fascinated by this dance in particular.

He was gunned down in the street for no good reason.  He wasn’t armed with anything.  We actually know who did it.  And the dance is awesome.  Damn near overwhelming.  Everyone with a microphone keeps playing along.  Everyone in front of a camera sways to one version or another.  To keep the peace.  To preserve some semblance of order.

Like if they stopped dancing and admitted that a kid was shot full of holes and the cop who did it was allowed to flee the state, we’d all go fucking nuts.

We might.

We should.

Because that’s exactly what happened.

They tell us he shoplifted.  They called it burglary.  Not true.  Didn’t happen.  Store owner and video. They call him a “thug”. Racist code for “nigger”. Fuck me I hate that word.  Both of them.

But no, goddamnit, no.  We breathe a sigh of relief and maybe exhale some gratitude and focus a little more on the problems at hand.  We’re able to do that because the media is waltzing to insipid disco and refuses to belly up to the bar.  Our cue to have another. See?

If only they could join us in our disgust.

Instead they relieve us of it.

What we have now is a pointless debate where none is necessary.  There is nothing to argue here.  A dirty cop executed a man in the street for no reason and we jump around pretending to figure out what happened and what to do.

Pathetic.

We know what happened and we know what should happen.  We know what is right.  We know what to say about it.  We know what to do about it.   There is no religion here. We kneel at the altar of a certain convenience of views. We recognize the folly of too much courage and too little.

One only feels respect when it’s mutual.

Or all we have to do is dance.

Drinks for my friends.

 

 

Ferguson

At this point what we don’t know is not important but what we do know is of awesome relevance. We know that a white police officer pumped at least six rounds into an unarmed black male who witnesses say was earnestly trying to surrender. That police officer had only foreknowledge of one rather innocuous crime upon initiating the confrontation.

That crime was jaywalking.

What we know is that the killing occurred in a city with a rather notorious and insidious culture of racial animus.  A consistent and verifiable history of prejudice, persecution and prosecution against the majority of it’s citizens who are black.  What we know is the majority of the residents of Ferguson Missouri are fed the fuck up.

Here’s another thing we know, in any other scenario, with any of the finite number of variables altered or reversed, the shooter would be in jail, in custody, charged with murder.

The local, state and federal authorities appear to be at a loss.  All of them confused about what to do to control the demonstrations.  What to do to stem the violence and looting.  What to do to curb the understandably spirited civil unrest.  You’d think they would have caught a clue last Thursday when cooler heads prevailed briefly and the flagrant show of over the top military style force was dialed back for an evening.

But no.

The next day, local authorities, despite the protestations of the federal DOJ, released convenience store video of the victim apparently pilfering some cheap cigars.  Not long after they were forced to admit it was completely unrelated and that the officer in question had no knowledge of it.  Today it was leaked that toxicology reports indicated the victim was on the pot.  Really.  That he had marijuana in his system.  Really.

Here is what I know and what you probably know too:  If the sonafabitch were in fucking jail and being charged with murder, the mood might just change a little.

I’m not sure it would alleviate the tension entirely but it occurs to me if there is any sincere desire to ameliorate the situation in a meaningful way they would arrest the murdering prick and parade him on perp walk  with all attendant pomp.

Drinks for my friends.

Maximum Robin

I get it she says.  I understand she tells me.  All those hoses and belts, all the tubes and valves, all those wires and lines that are leaking and spraying so much sorrow and doom and that man thought four or five times more and four or five times faster than me…… It makes sense why he would take his own life.

It makes complete sense.

She tells me this on the way to the balcony for a smoke.

I follow her out while it makes sense to me.

Maybe it wasn’t just Mr. William’s own morbid malaise.

Maybe it’s us.  All of us.  The worst of us.

We live in an age where heroes are impossible, where dignity and elegance are endangered if not extinct.  There is hardly any grace anymore. It is now virtually impossible for a champion of ordinary people to establish any meaningful foothold before they are either dissected by corruption or seduced by it.

Selfishness now elevated to virtue.

Peace, love and understanding bifurcated into “isms”.

I think we have reached the point of no return.

We may just be fucked.

The only question I have is who we’re taking with us.  How many other species?  How many beavers how many whales how many bees?  How many fucking caribou are we going to take with us?  Every mammal on this planet knows the entire planet is now toxic.  They can see it smell it and taste it while they swim or hunt.  While they forage and breathe.

They know.

And so do we.

Bloodshed is the new normal and nutritious food is neither.  We cannot bear witness to all the war and famine and suffering on this scale now, just how jacked up shit is, and not know how goddamn close we are to the end of days for too much longer.  We cannot keep this up.  You cannot smell your shampoo in the morning without understanding that rain forests are evaporating.  It’s virtually impossible despite your personal grooming choices.

Goddamn we are brave.  We rage against the dying of the light.  Oh my how we rage. We have cable tv and relatively slow internet.  We have HD and smartphones that keep us from even looking at each other.  Been in an elevator lately?  We consistently vote against our own interests out of fear and ignorance. The human race is stuck in its own stupidity.  Our very own vulgarity and self loathing. We can’t be bothered about the better angels of our nature having expired.  We are now subject to barely more than our foibles and weaknesses as the race of man and they will most surely be our demise.

The planet cooks, it’s actually baking.  Soon water will be at a premium like gasoline.  Politicians rape and steal.  Religions and ideologies visit war on the rest.  All covered, spun, spewed and packaged for our entertainment and so called edification on cable tv in HD.

Violence and firepower elevated to a virtue.

There simply is no countervailing wind to blow against the avarice and mendacity that constantly engulfs us with every breath we take and every move we make.  There simply isn’t.  It doesn’t exist.  It’s not democrats.  It’s not liberals.  It’s not social workers or teachers or unions.  Combined they have not enough to oppose the human mountain of filthy lucre that piles everyday despite the best intentions of what is not a unified front.

What we have now is a gale, a hurricane, that has already ripped apart any sail that would turn its wind, its force, into anything but malice .

It really is like evil is winning.

We slash funding for education while we demonize teachers and then build more prisons for profit.  We cut food stamps and unemployment beneficiaries off at the knees while we arm our police departments with weaponry intended for third world military conflicts.

She tells me this on the way to the balcony for a smoke.

Drinks for my friends.

Carousel

His hand passes in front of my face, its trail is all tobacco and wool and after shave with a wooden top.

He’s showing me the ticket he just bought.

The goliath in my periphery.

I can’t stand it.

Giant cacophony of the calliope.

Light and sound shrink me.

I can’t help it.

It scares me sick.

I know if I knock on hindquarters it will be impossibly hard and hollow.

The other kids can barely stand it.

Their glee is desperate and horrible.

They screech bloody and hysterical.

He talks on his phone, glasses reflecting the sun  so I can’t see his eyes and know who or what he is.

He wants me to get on it.

He wants me to ride it.

The day was warm and dense.

It’s cool now with a breeze so now a harbinger of inevitability.

Cold sweat down my neck and between my shoulders.

He brought me here for this.

To please me?

To make me happy?

Why does this matter to him?

Doesn’t he understand that I am afraid of this?

Here at the carnival and all I want is cotton candy and corn dogs and maybe a Ferris Wheel ride.

I had no intention of mounting one of these snarling mutes impaled by brass polls from deck to canopy.

It lumbers and wheezes, painted garish.

Portending violence.

He knows.

I know he knows.

He doesn’t want me to be thrilled.

He wants to witness my terror.

To absorb it.

To drink it.

He hands me the simple pink ticket and I have no choice.

My voice dries up and my will evaporates.

I walk through the gate and the grinding organ is breathing far too loud.

Its awful distortion hisses and confuses me.

I hate it.

I can’t stand it.

The deck rattles and sways under my shoes.

I rap my knuckles on its rump.  So hard it makes no sense and the thunk is hollow.

There is no choice but to mount the beast and hope for the best.

To be free of it as soon as I can.

I’m in a very busy department store and everyone understands but me.

No one looks at me.

No one sees me.

Sweat runs around my ears and past my throat.

There is no saddle and I can’t reach the stirrups.

Right from the start it feels on the verge, about to be out of control.

Nothing to do but to cling to the poll.

My hands wet.

Afraid for my grip.

If only I could be somebody else or someplace else.

He talks on his phone and laughs and I still can’t see his eyes when I come around.

He betrays not a single other thing.

Drinks for my friends.

A Heartbreaking Lack of Understanding

I guess I’m naive.

It was obviously a mistake to open my head and heart and share my thoughts on something as profoundly controversial as the Israeli Palestinian conflict.  A mistake to speak out against war in general and this one in particular.

In hindsight it occurs to me that my biggest mistake was not only not taking a side but also lamenting the conspicuous horror and consummate savagery of it.  Sincerely and honestly despairing all the senseless death of men and women and children. So many, so completely innocent of everything, but still finding themselves between powers greater than their own and no where to run.

I guess it was a mistake to so earnestly, perhaps brazenly, reveal my own humanity and genuine empathy. I guess it was a mistake to instead of endorse the actions of one side or the other, to have  the audacity to wonder at its end.  To hope for a resolution.  It’s a mistake I can live with.  I’ll own that mistake every day with every fiber of my being.

For this I have been called an anti-Semite.  It breaks my heart, it really does.  Some are content to say so behind my back, but some who are so quick to judge have been valuable friends of mine for nearly a quarter century.  People whom I respect and without reservation can say I love.  People with integrity and in possession of hearts so honest and open as to be vulnerable to all the cruelties of life and other people.  People who I know feel the same about me for the same reasons.

Some of these people now judge me to be anti-Semitic because I didn’t pick a side.

Their side.

I imagine that if no one were to take a side, war would be impossible.   I’m a pacifist.  I am guilty of that and so be it.  But I absolutely bristle at the label of anti-Semite.  It is no different than the furious offense I would take to being called a racist or a homophobe.  It is beyond exasperating.  It is not in any way representative of how I’ve led my life and the choices I’ve made as the result of teachings by good, honest and thoughtful parents.

To be called any of these things is bad enough.

It is an anathema.

To be thought of as any of them is soul torturing.

I would ask any of you who actually know me, who know my heart, my actions and deeds as a fellow inhabitant of this planet to stop and think.  Just because I oppose not just your war but all war including the ones my country wages, all violence and cruelty, all man’s inhumanity to man, that doesn’t make me an anti-Semite.  That merely makes me a human being with a modicum of compassion for all the other human inhabitants of this tiny blue marble hanging in a universe too vast for any of us to comprehend.

I have maligned no one in particular, I haven’t discriminated against any individual or group.  I have never in my life consciously engaged in anything of the kind. What I have done is shine an obviously uncomfortable light on every single one of us.

“Publicity is justly commended as a remedy for social and industrial diseases. Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants; electric light the most efficient policeman.” -Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis.

If I have offended anyone, it was not my intent but I nonetheless apologize.  I’m not sure whether it’s more painful to have inadvertently done so, or for any of you to assume I would do as much with malice or intent.

Drinks for my friends.

*In the interest of context this piece is intended to address a small number of reactions to the previous one on the same subject-simply scroll down to the previous blog*

 

A heartbreaking lack of reason

I’m a little embarrassed.

I do hope you enjoy my etchings because of my unapologetic approach when taking on the big issues.  I just love the big cats.  I confess I’ve been hiding on this one.  My reluctance is informed by personal relationships and the deafening heat of the controversy lately.  The burning incandescence on social media alone singed me enough to back way off.

Maybe I owe you.  MaybeI feel an obligation.  I owe myself.  I struggled with objectivity and visceral anger.   I think I’ve been able to open the aperture  wide enough to allow the big picture.  Had to let lots of light in.  I understand this will chap a lot of asses, but I need to get it off my chest while my hand is steady enough to share my thoughts.

There is no question that the situation between Israel and Palestine is a tragedy beyond imagination for anyone not experiencing it firsthand.

A closed loop of violence leading to more violence. A zero sum game. A vicious cycle of carnage and destruction that is so profound, so utterly horrifying that most of us can not bare to look.

But still, there are those of us who can stare and revel and relish.

It is a vacuum of logic.  No matter what the more moderate rhetoric coming from either side asserts, the ultimate goal is the annihilation of the opposing side. Neither side will own satisfaction without the complete extinction of the other.  They’ve both said as much.  It’s insane.

And for what?

Centuries, sometimes millennia old religious myths. It’s gotta be one of  the dumbest, most ridiculous and pointless campaigns in human history.  What’s new?

Israel finds itself in the position of rolling tanks to a water balloon fight.  Because they can.  And they do.  Not even close to what any sane observer would call a measured response.  Are they guilty of human atrocity and war crimes?

You bet your ass they are.

Kinda like the US in Iraq.

Would Hamas take it upon themselves to engage in exactly the same level of human vivisection if they were wearing the same shoe of absolute military superiority and total economic dominance?

In a fucking heart beat.

Doth both very bad actors have blood on their hands?  The intentional blood of their own people on their hands?  Let me just say they are both so festooned with gore one would be hard pressed to tell them apart.  One might compare numbers but it occurs to me that’s like comparing dicks.

Is the US complicit?  Yes, we are guilty as hell.  We fucking fund it.

Is Palestine?  Absolute Islamic fundamentalist whack jobs.  Quite a bit like Christians.

Is the media culpable by only covering the very extreme edges and without humanity, fomenting polarization as rocket fuel for the inferno?

Absofuckinglutely.

To be clear, I’m not blaming anybody, I’m blaming everybody.

From the Hamas Charter:

“….. “our struggle against the Jews is very great and very serious” and calls for the eventual creation of an Islamic state in Palestine, in place of Israel and the Palestinian Territories, and the obliteration or dissolution of Israel.”  -Wikiepedia

“The time will not come until Muslims will fight the Jews [and kill them]; until the Jews hide behind rocks and trees, which will cry: O Muslim! There is a Jew hiding behind me, come on and kill him!” -Wikepedia

“Every day, official Palestinian television calls Jews “rats” and “animals.” This is repugnant. On the official Facebook page of Palestinian schools, one sees photographs of Hitler, and cartoons that illustrate the hadith (statements attributed to the prophet Mohammed) saying that Muslims must kill the Jews before the Last Judgment (“Yom al-Din”).” -The Washington Institute

As for Israel:

” [The Palestinians are] beasts walking on two legs.” Menachem Begin, speech to the Knesset, quoted in Amnon Kapeliouk, “Begin and the Beasts”. New Statesman, 25 June 1982. 

“When we have settled the land, all the Arabs will be able to do about it will be to scurry around like drugged cockroaches in a bottle.” Raphael Eitan, Chief of Staff of the Israeli Defence Forces, New York Times, 14 April 1983.

“We have to kill all the Palestinians unless they are resigned to live here as slaves.” Chairman Heilbrun of the Committee for the Re-election of General Shlomo Lahat, the mayor of Tel Aviv, October 1983.

“One million Arabs are not worth a Jewish fingernail.” — Rabbi Yaacov Perrin, Feb. 27, 1994 [Source: N.Y. Times, Feb. 28, 1994, p. 1]

Am I supposed  to pick a dog in this hunt?

Explosive murderous hate based exclusively on bullshit undiluted Santa in the sky religious crap.

This cannot possibly end well because logic has no purchase.

The question is, how can it possibly end?

It certainly shows no sign.

Will there ever be a postmortem?

When are we, as a mere single species on this tiny blue marble, going to  gain some humility and grow the fuck up?

It is beyond absurd.  It is beyond disgusting.  There are no words.

A heartbreaking lack of reason.

Drinks for my friends.

 

The rodent and the wheel

Have you ever noticed how the blowhards who rail against raising the minimum wage, or even the mandate of one at all, are the same ones who who piss and moan about undocumented workers stealing their jobs?  Ever notice how they never blame the fat white business owners who would sooner drink from a bed pan than pay minimum wage to any skin color, the same ones who exploit these poor workers so as to bathe and shower and wipe their asses with the filthy lucre gleaned from such egregious slavery?

Ever notice?

Isn’t it just awesome that most babysitters command $10 an an hour while the minimum wage is $7.75?

Really awesome.

That head butts me with irony and ridiculousness.

I am blistered by hypocrisy.

Ever notice how they are the same ones who whine about the once powerful unions?  You know, the very entities that guaranteed they get a weekend and a vacation and maybe a pension?

Ever notice how they are from the poorest states?  You know, the red states that get way more than their share of government revenue in the form of social programs than they contribute in the form of tax dollars?

Real brave bunch we’ve got here.

Ever notice how absurdly Christian they are?

If you are willing and able to work a forty hour work week in this country you deserve adequate food, shelter and healthcare.  If they cannot or will not pay a living wage in this country then they do not deserve to do business in this country.  If they cannot recognize that the regions in this country that pay a more competitive wage are thriving and the ones that don’t are wallowing in atrophy, they must be idiots.

The majority of analysis supports the notion that a living wage raises all boats and trickle down economics sinks all but the yachts and the battleships.

You have to be a dumbass if you are still defending the “job creators”.

Their arguments are selfish and ludicrous.  If they don’t get this, if their business model is dependent on attainment and avarice, the erosion of the middle class and the further criminal concentration of wealth, then I invite them to piss up a goddamn rope.

I guess I just don’t understand where we are as a country if such a common sense idea like raising the minimum wage is even controversial for people who schlep and suffer the abuse of the indignant, when the idea is so frustratingly popular.  I guess I just don’t understand it when just about all of us at one time or another have worked those jobs and realize they are no walk in the damn park.  I guess I just don’t understand why these people don’t deserve to live off what they make for serving you your goddamn salad or your fucking hamburger.

I guess I just don’t understand it.

What I really don’t understand is all the dentally challenged mouth breathers that are more worried abut winning the lottery someday and having to pay taxes on it than having to work some bullshit job at Walmart and qualify for government subsidies.  I worry that they don’t care that their employer refuses to pay you enough to live on or even the ability to buy their goddamn products without being on the government tit.

What I really don’t understand is the filthy rich, who will never want for anything but love and respect while they perpetuate this madness because their entire world is about excess and privilege and the twisted notion that they deserve it and the other people they suffer day to day do not.

It occurs to me that most of them are dumb as sticks and the rest of them are greedy pricks.

What a brave bunch.

Drinks for my friends.

Richard Cranium

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

What special brand of asshole shows up to protest child refugees from south American countries armed?

What particular kind of stupid is requisite here, to get up in the morning, get dressed, have some coffee, lock and load, looking forward to a day that will be about brandishing your rifle and carrying a moronic and likely misspelled sign depicting mere innocent children as evil and disease ridden infiltrators?

Diseases like Ebola, that don’t exist outside Africa.

Children that are the victims of our oppressive economic policies and our failed, utterly disastrous drug laws.

Who gets out of bed to terrorize children?

Confused and frightened children.  Children who can’t speak our language.

Children of parents just as confused and frightened as a direct result of American influence in their own hopelessly poor South American countries.

Parents so profoundly confused and frightened and obviously absent any other option that they are compelled to exercise the only option they see as viable.  The only option available.  To send them a thousand or more miles a way on a dangerous and arduous journey to the good old US of A.  How sad in the 21st century that is their best choice.

Just exactly what are you very special assholes worried about?  What are you afraid of?  When humans behave this way the only explanation is fear.  Occam’s razor.

Are these guiltless children gonna take your goddamn jobs?

Rick Perry and Sean Hannity need to take it upon themselves to patrol the border armed to the teeth and and fucking televise it?  I guess Ted Nugent wasn’t available.

You people.  Afraid of this.  So afraid you bring your goddamn guns to scare the already traumatized and horrified CHILDREN.  Rednecks.  Teabillies.  Willfully ignorant, deliberately under informed fucktards.  At what age did you lose your capacity for compassion?  At what time in your life did the callus on your soul grow so thick that you can’t recognize human suffering and desperation?

You call yourselves militia.

You’re no militia.  You are the disease.  You are the cancer and we can’t wait until you die of your own insidious malaise.

You are the same car full of dangerous clowns that showed up to defend the now infamous fraud Cliven Bundy.

Bring yer guns boys!

It’s on.

The same clowns that showed up to beat on Americans who dared to demand civil rights already afforded to them in the 60’s.

The same clowns who want to sue or impeach the president.

The same clowns whos biggest legitimate fear is that the American white male dominated society is on the wane.

The same clowns who really need to get over it.  You’re right.  It’s coming to an end and you all are now faced with the task of being equal.  No more unearned privilege.  No more automatic advantage.  You now are faced with the brutal reality of being the same as everyone else.  Equal.  Woe is you, you fucking abject cowards.  Maybe tomorrow you can get up, lock and load and scare the shit out of white people at Chipotle or Target with your stupid fucking guns.

Good for you.

In the meantime, keep eating crayons while fantasizing about lighting up some immigrant with your ridiculous goddamn boom stick.

Your desperation stinks.  And we are sick of the smell.

Drinks for my friends.

Conflagration Scotus

I am a woman. I gave birth. It was painful.  Excruciating.  Agony.  No one knows.  I do.

My child knows no one other purview until it gulps air outside of me. Until it leaves my womb it belongs to me and no one else. No other body, governmental or even judicial matters at all to me.

Not as far as I’m concerned anyway.

I really don’t care what you have to say.

I cannot stand five catholic men in black robes who would decide anything for me or the child in my body.  I loathe you for trying.  Your ignorance.  Your arrogance.  Your hubris.  When the day comes I want to relinquish control of my life, my child’s life, to the likes of you, I’ll let you know.  It will have a big fancy seal.  It will be on parchment.  Sheepskin.  You’ll know.  Champagne and caviar.

Until then, shut the fuck up.

We all know you think it’s your religious privilege.  We all know you think you’re somehow entitled to a voice here.  A heavy legislative hand.  A right.  But you are wrong.  You don’t.  You can’t.  You won’t.  You can’t tell me what contraception to use anymore than you can tell me what to do with my womb.  My body.  You stand there, collecting your filthy lucre from the dirtier angels of our filthiest nature and presume to define sin for me.

Fuck you.

You took a stand on the side of a company that wears its hypocrisy on its goddamn face.  They invest in and make money off of the manufacture of contraceptive products.  They willingly paid for the objectionable products for their employees for years.  Decades.  What changed besides Obamacare?  They say their mission is to prevent abortion but the only net gain from this will be more abortion.

By the way, they say the contraceptive products they won’t pay for kill babies.  Wrong.  Completely wrong.  What they do is prevent fertilization.  No beings.  No babies.  How did we get to a place where the Supreme Court is guilty of science denial while listening to and valuing the opinions of clerics and wizards?

Five Roman Catholic men who wear black robes to work.

In this process you would willingly consign me to a coat hanger.

I am a man and I do not accept this jurisprudence.  It is the antithesis of jurisprudence.

But I am a woman too.

It’s like your whole reason is to make sure it’s born.

After that, it’s nobodies business but mine.  Ironic how you grab responsibility before it’s born and surrender it completely the second after.  How do adult white men entertain the notion that they somehow get to champion the fetus and forgo the child?

Jackasses.

They are the last people.

Then, some sonafabitching congressman comes along to make my last stand.

To pretend to speak for me and all the unborn.

I am a woman and I have given birth and if I begin to understand that delivery might mean my death, I get to decide what to do.  If that child will be born inside out?  My problem.  If that child is born with whatever disability?  My problem.

Not yours.

Fuck off.

The same goes for my contraception.  Sometimes it’s to prevent an unwanted pregnancy.  But 56% of the women in this country that avail themselves of contraceptive medication have it prescribed to them by doctors for reasons other than preventing pregnancy.  Sometimes it’s to prevent my spending days in bed writhing in the kind of pain that makes botulism or ebola look Fischer Price.  Sometimes it’s to reduce my risk of certain cancers.  Viruses.  You don’t know.  You can’t you bastards.  I am a woman and you are not.

I can not countenance five greasy old academic males deciding any of this shit.  It’s none of their business.

None at all.

I am a woman.

I would make each of you pregnant tomorrow morning if I could.

Or, I would visit the menstrual cycle upon each of you if I could.

Then we would see who the women are.

That would be awesome.

Bitches.

I am a man speaking for women.

Drinks for my friends.

The big conflagration up at the clinic

Maybe the whole idea with all this new abortion legislation without exceptions for rape and incest etc. could be about the crusty old white conservative douchenozzles not being able to reproduce or even get laid any other way.

Right?

How else does it make sense?

If they can’t reproduce, they can’t propagate or indoctrinate. If they can’t rape their cousins, sisters, aunts or random children, they have no chance of winning elections long term.  See, otherwise they’re done getting laid.

Should we admire them for this?  Their only long term strategy?

“Is you is, or is you ain’t, my constituency?”

I mean they’ve alienated everyone else.

If men could get an abortion, not pregnant mind you, just an abortion, they would be free and absent controversy.  There would be abortion days at the mall.  Thursdays.  Don’t ask don’t tell.  Absolute privacy.  Provider/impregnator privilege.

We wouldn’t be having this conversation.

Same scenario with contraception.

These people aren’t pro life.  They are pro birth.  After the child is born, they can’t be bothered to give a mad fuck about it.  They vote against every single thing that could potentially benefit every single child they insist be born under far less than ideal circumstances.  No welfare, no food stamps, no health care, no unemployment benefits, no clean air, no clean water, no safe food, no education, no pension, no union, no nothing.

Once the child comes of age, incarcerate it for the prison industrial complex it or make it cannon fodder for the military industrial complex.

They adore capital punishment.

It is the apogee of hypocrisy.

A breathtakingly disingenuous intellectual ballet.

So I ask myself why.  Why are they so vehement?  Why are they so goddamn self righteously angry at women?  They are very angry.  Really pissed off.  But that’s not it.  What they are is afraid.  Afraid of women.  Afraid of slightly more than half the of the human population.  Fear is a great force multiplier.  They fear their power, their wisdom and ultimately their independence.  They understand that women afforded power will hasten their marginalization, their obsolescence, their extinction.

Because they have marginalized themselves.  Because they pursue obsolescence with abandon and because they actively romance extinction.

You can smell the desperation when they pass draconian laws, when they make it impossible for clinics that provide a myriad of other essential family health services to stay open.  When they murder doctors who merely seek to keep women from resorting to coat hangers in alleys.

They murder.

The hubris, it burns.

Here’s the deal.  Just because I’m pro choice doesn’t mean I’m pro abortion.  It’s none of my goddamn business.  I am somehow fortunate enough to possess a modicum of humility.  A whiff of intelligence and compassion.  Just enough of these things to understand, to realize, that it’s none of my fucking business at all unless I’m the father.  And then my say would be limited because I can’t know the import of what I would ask.  I would be secondary and I would understand that.

Nobody can know but the woman in question and I’m beyond convinced that this issue does not belong in our male dominated corridors of power.

This issue has no place in the hands of any men not irrevocably involved in the outcome.

The pride they approach this with disgusts me.  They presume to know better about something they can’t possibly have a clue about.  I know because I’m a man and I have no idea.

They are that spec of fecal matter at the back of my toilet bowl.  The one that appears between scrubbings.  That brown dot I’m constantly trying to dislodge with my ultra powerful racehorse urine stream.

It is my sincere hope to piss you fuckers off.

Drinks for my friends.

 

 

dielectric

As you may or may not know, I like to pick fights with the willfully ignorant on facebook. It’s a hobby. I usually find myself punching down, but occasionally I discover an articulate, well informed whack job capable of civil and cogent discourse. I love that.

I totally salute all three of you.

Inevitably, when I confront them with facts and logic, the catapulting of invective ensues. I find myself at the receiving end of insults  entirely predictable.  Remarkably consistent.  They call me a “libtard”, and gasp, “socialist” and even worse, “communist”.

Every fucking time I ask them to define “socialist” or “communist”, the crickets begin to swang. Not one of these goofcocks actually has any idea what these “isms” actually are or what they mean.

It represents a profound ideological perversion and it’s disturbing. McCarthyism revisited.  Short attention span theater.  No room for history.

Guess what?  I must be a low down dirty dog socialist because I have enough common sense to realize that capitalism, without the necessary ballast of socialism, or regulation, ends up being fascism.  Thank dog for socialism.   Sorry, three more isms for your consumption and edification.

I can always count on the word socialism launching at the mere mention of Obama.  T minus three seconds and counting.  In the context of stratospheric stock market indexes, record CEO compensation, all time high worker productivity and the inertia of wages for the middle class, Obama is a pretty miserable goddamn socialist.

Republicans and teabillies alike are more than willing to ignore that without regulation, our food, air, water and energy would be killing us all far more often and far more egregiously.

They would have Christianity solve all that for us.

Dickheads.

It highlights the common malaise of intellectual laziness that is the paradigm for the right these days.  To them it’s the political equivalent of calling me a cocksucker.   I can almost feel the hot moist spittle of their vitriol.  They are as pissed as any self aware species courting guaranteed extinction should be.

Wrinkly old white dudes.

I’ve known plenty of them.

Nevermind that term is an actual slur on its own.  More troubling is the catalyst of polarization it manifests as.  The notion that conservatism and liberalism, two more isms, are at war is a distraction.  It makes it really easy to say that.

I’ve said it a hundred times.  Put 50  democrats in a room with 50 republicans and they will agree on at least 80% of the issues.  But, they will spend all their time arguing over the remaining 20%

Both parties are guilty, but I’m getting really tired of the false equivalency. Is that equivalency Bernie Sanders, Liz Warren  and Grayson on the left compared to Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio and Sarah Palin on the right?  I doubt it. The right makes it so much worse by casually tossing these terms around and by embracing religion as a litmus test.  We all live with socialism.  It serves us.  You know, the fire department, the library, social security.  None of us aspire to or admire communism and it’s just ridiculous to accuse liberals of fascism when the right so ardently foments theocracy.

Drinks for my friends.

Consonants for sale

Sometimes I can hear a song for days, I can replay it in my head, in stereo, over and over for a week. After that I need a refresher. So I listen to that song on the world’s best stereo. I happen to own the world’s best stereo.

I can taste it.  I can see it. I smell it. It has texture.

I can touch it without touching it.

I assumed everyone was like this.

What’s up with these assholes who want to sport lethal firepower in the toy aisle at Target?  What makes a man think that’s cool?  I’m sure boys do.  You know they do it because they think it’s cool.  Boys that aren’t men and men that are boys.  What if I wandered into a Walmart with just road flares strapped to my legs brandishing a Zippo?  Would you be okay with that?  What if I promised it wasn’t dynamite, pointed out there were no fuses?

I mean I’m obviously unhinged.  Right?

If mall security isn’t all over me already, You’re dialing 911 and pissing your pants and leaving.

What if the communists go after the shopping centers first?  The open carrier will die in an explosion that melts his pea shooter into a stick skinnier than his dick.

Nope.

This is dumb.

Look.  I’m not anti gun.  The second amendment has clearly been misinterpreted but I’m not here to take your guns away and neither is anyone else.  It’s not happening and it’s not going to.

So grow up.  Don’t take your guns to town Wayne.

I’m not a fan of public displays of affection.  It occurs to me this is a public display of fear and panic.  Fear and panic should not be displayed publicly.  If you need to take a gun to the grocery store, you’re a dick and you shouldn’t be able to own a gun.  That should be the first question on the test.

DO YOU FEEL THE NEED TO WEAR A SEMI AUTOMATIC RIFLE TO ANY LOCAL RETAIL STORE?

If the answer is yes……….

Drinks for my friends.

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