Archive for December, 2008

It’s actually the space between.

I’m going home and I can’t wait.

I’ll bring etchings and wine.

I hear I look like Toby Keith, despite his being a douchbag and all. Huge dipshit.

Whatever.

I need to tell you that I just don’t understand the contemporary image or model of the overly skinny, oftentimes emaciated woman proliferating the visual media. They always look a little skanky to me. I just don’t get the little boy look. Give me hips and ass at least. They always have raccoon eyes and fragile ankles. No hips.

Moving right along.

Yes, I am afraid to die. I’m not done yet. What sane human under seventy five isn’t afraid to die? Show me one that isn’t afraid and I’ll show you one that’s out of his tree.

I once knew a bartender named Diane. She had gorgeous tattoos of dolphins on her arms. A yellowing front tooth in the very front of her head. Rosewater perfume, giant blues eyes and the reddest lips I’ve ever seen. Porcelain skin. One of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.

We were friends for years. Went on a date. To a movie. Naked Lunch. William S. Burroughs. I moved to kiss her that night and she asked me not to embarrass us both. Damn. I don’t believe I’ve ever been so humiliated. She crushed me. Bittersweet. We somehow grew closer. I became a protector. A role I couldn’t stand but it was the only part in the play.

The Whitehorse on Western just north of the boulevard Sunset. It fell to the ground in the ’94 Northridge quake. Thank Zues.

The first bar in the world to put my etchings on the jukebox. I drank whiskey and beer in those days. Jim Beam and Budweiser. Cognac if the overtime was good. Cockroaches and all. It was a flawless shithole.

The Powerhouse. Highland and Hollywood. Lost my wallet there more than once. I actually had sex on that bar. I’ve since stopped carrying a wallet. The second place to put my records on the juke. Everything I did for awhile. Down By Law to Everclear. I played drums there one night for a band that was without a drummer. I think I did ok. By then I’d switched to gin. We played Wild Thing and Iron Man. I kinda did a solo through the breaks. Only way I knew to keep time.

They locked the doors just before two and let their favorite people keep drinking. I was always one of them.

Not long after, I split the atom. People were impressed. There were parades. I was given a space suit eventhough I had no use for one. Candles and food on my doorstep. Women swooning. Short, overly tanned men tried to lease me cars, suits and jewelry. I eliminated most of them in elevators. These dickheads were orange.

What would you have done?

I had to kill almost all of them. Stabbed them in the neck with a pen or a letter opener. Stupid wide lapels and a too quick familiarity. Ridiculous tans in camel colored suits with absurd ties. Idiots. They thought the neutral colors excused the circus ties. I killed every one of them. Thought they could fool Mother Nature. Oh my.

When you scoop from a jar for your toast, careful and mind what your knife brings to light.

Might be fresh berries, could be caviar, maybe mold, turds and wax.

Hey Jody, sorry about that.

Drinks for my friends.

Fall flat so as to consult Oliver Platt.

Bake awhile and take awhile.

Introduce yourself to Joe. Don’t trust him. He will know.

Undue and undo to you

It is after all, all that you knew.

Whatever he says cannot be new.

Not to you.

She hides.

Pretends it’s about the color blue.

Patented, patent leather blue

This opportunity to tell you a thing, at least two.

People who stare don’t care

Then there’s us, me and you

We look away

Too much ado

We cannot survive the blue blue blue

Well, that’s my shotgun attempt at rhyme. It is what it is. I leave for home the day after tomorrow. I doubt I’ll write from there. You never know. I want to wish you all the utmost warmth you can find with family and friends etc. Our darkest days have yet to come but there is light. Not all of us are our finest, but so many of us are.

We deserve to take some measure of pride in what we’ve accomplished. It’s pretty goddamn cool. It’s a start. A start. The mountain is insanely, unimaginably high. We stand the remotest chance of coming together. You my friend must be willing to embrace a few rotten mouthed neocons if only to keep your enemies close. Get used to the idea. Embrace it.

NO FREE LUNCH. No such thing.

They have us so afraid. So many Kool Aid fiends.

Almost anyone will steal from you, lie to you or kill you. It’s just not true. Many people are not what they seem. There’s an assload of sociopaths. Check out the current administration.

Then, think about the people you know you can trust.

So there it is. Don’t be stupid.

Nobody gets away with everything forever.

Drinks for my friends.

of all I know.

Spent the afternoon drinking with my best friend. A fine Saturday. I don’t know where my girlfriend is. Toto’s Hydra is an amazing record but the bottom sucks. I hear the mastering engineer on the new Metallica asked not to be credited.

The guy he hired to replace me, a man we all thought was a ringer, ended up nearly burying the business. A liar and a thief. Watch for me in dark alleys you prick. Terry.

You really can’t trust anybody. Well, I trust my Mother and Father, Sister, My Friend and my Girlfriend. Certain other people I’ve known for decades. Cats.

“you can’t trust anyone, trust me I have” -Agnes Gooch

All women have what I think of as a pooch. Unless they’re bodybuilders or prepubescent gymnasts. It’s the lower abdomen. Below the button. I spent time with a gorgeous woman who named her pooch “Gracie”. I adored her for that, among other things.

He’s a whackjob, my old boss and best goddamn friend. Within the last week or so he’s had to deal with his ex-wife crashing into the front of his house and turning other women away as a result. Someday he’ll let me write his book.

Crazy as a shithouse rat and one of the finest people I know. Showed me his guns, been working out with El Muerte. Ha!

So anyway, it’s been cold here in LA. It’s always weird when the sun is that low and still fat in the sky. Making heat in winter.

Not long ago I sought to impugn the character of my ex fiance’s new man by labeling him a giant vagina. I apologize for that. I’ve never met him. I imagine he’s a man of character and integrity because my ex is whip smart and has remarkable amounts of honesty and integrity. She has high standards.

Sorry about that.

I’ve been thinking a lot about canned peas lately. Nothing better than butter, salt, a little pepper, peas and the taste of the can. They should set it up so you can nuke it just like that. The way soup is these days. Peas or beans in a nukable container. Hot Pineapple anyone?

What else did I want to say.

The cats are golden. They make me happy because they can. Otherwise they’re horrible beasts that crap and pee everywhere. I put up with them because they are soft, furry and hysterically funny.

Here’s the the thing. They wear hats. Sombreros, porkpies and stupid red cowboy hats. Everyday I leave the house, only to return to a fashion show. It confuses me so I can’t really talk about it. Put yourself in my shoes. Walk in the door. Spotlight on a disco ball. The dignity of your felines compromised by the cheap and tawdry costumes.

A nightmare of pageantry.

It really is a bit much.

Nobody knows the trouble………….

Drinks for my friends.

I suspect we’d all be a lot happier if they could.

Oh, I don’t know. Merry Xmas. Yeah, Xmas.

I hate it when people don’t understand me. It’s worse when they think they understand me. Christmas. Man, whatever. My ass is broke and even the idea of it is daunting and depressing.

I’m anxious for family and friends. I just talked to my Mom. I needed for her to remind me what Cristmas is about for us, for our family. I needed to hear her say it. It worked. It helped. I’ll book a flight tomorrow.

Why do I still dream of going over a cliff in a motorhome? Giant waves and sinking ships? We debate until the end. Conflict is thick and before you know it, all is lost. Family and friends and me over a thousand foot drop. The bottom rushes at me. I lay in bed an extra half hour for that shit movie. Perverse nightmare lunacy. Why?

I’m a mess. This is a mess. I’m flirting with the wind and the very edge. Closest I’ve ever been. The gusts dictate my balance. We all fall down. That’s why. That’s the rumpus.

Broke for Christmas. Fucking awful. I have a reputation for generosity. I will bring wine and my etchings. That will be enough. Mom said so.

I just want to see and touch them all. My family, my friends.

My definition of crazy: Not Boring.

My definition of insanity: Sometimes blue is purple…………look at that truck.

Celery and grapefruit. Red cherries on green slices of melon.

Dive in headfirst and get water all up in your face. Like snorting horseradish.

Then there’s the ghosts. They move everywhere and beneath everything. They are on your side and then not. No way to schmooze them. They don’t care at all.

Drinks for my friends.

December 18, 2008 – Thursday – 9:01 PM
The Gold Standard

‘With the right hand out begging for bailout money, the left is hiding it offshore.’
Texas Democrat Rep. Lloyd Doggett, of the House Ways and Means Committee

Goldman Sachs, the Gold Standard on Wall Street, announced it’s first quarterly lose in it’s history, but it’s yearly earnings still showed a $2.3 billion profit. It may look like a big number, but for Goldman $2.3 billion is a large drop in earnings.

Let’s not drop too many tears for Goldman. They have been taking care of themselves. Last year, they paid their employees $10.9 billion in compensation. Not bad.

At Goldman Sachs, employee compensation made up 71% of total operating expenses in 2007. In the auto industry, by contrast, autoworker compensation makes up less than 10% of the cost of manufacturing a car. Hundreds of billions were given to the financial-services industry with barely a question about compensation; the auto bailout, however, was sunk on this issue alone.

But let’s not knock Goldman they after all may be the smartest guys in the room. In 2007 Goldman paid a tax rate of 34.1% , or $6 billion. This year, with profits of $2.3 billion, Goldman paid a tax rate of 1%, $14 million.

How?

Goldman attributed its lower tax rate to ‘more tax credits as a percentage of earnings’ and ‘changes in geographic earnings mix.’

What does that mean? They moved their money off shore. Ooops, sorry, they moved our money, $10 billion in bail out money, off shore, untaxed!

And who’s handing out the bail out money? Secretary Hank Paulson.

So?

Paulson was CEO of Goldman Sachs until mid-2006, and earned $35 million at the firm in 2005. He drew a $16.4 million salary in 2006 — even though he served as chief executive for just half the year.

As Goldman employees take home huge salaries, and are getting ready for their holidays, the big three are closing factories, shutting down operations for extended periods, just in time for their holidays.

Peace,
J

I don’t like most people. Most of them.

Then there are those I adore. Blessed me. The wonderful people. Amazing family, incredible friends, all who’ve chosen to show me affection despite my selfishness, arrogance and narcissism. I’m no walk in the park. Yup, I’m one lucky bastard and grateful for it.

Let’s talk about something else.

Why do people you’ve never seen and won’t ever see again acknowledge you in a random public setting? Some impulse of manners? It doesn’t offend me, it does confuse me.

I can’t believe this fuckstick Cheney. Richard Bruce Cheny admits to personal oversight and approval of torture.

We hanged Japanese for waterboarding but Darth says he’s cool with it. The team of Dick-in-Bush is unholy and sociopathic. Incredibly toxic.

This is a gift that will keep on giving. It’s all fine to flog the corpse, as long as you understand it’s not a corpse. It’s a fullblown zombie that will live another two decades at least. Wandering from town to town, infecting people and crashing through department store displays.

I’m here to remind you that zombies poop. We’re not talking Tootsie Rolls here. What we are talking about is egg drop soup from the ass of a zombie. Messy. As aromatic as the bowels of an ancient sewage facility. I bet it shows up on a Geiger Counter.

You know, get used to it. I hope people still want to like America. We will find out with this man Barack Obama as our President. Americans are far better people than how they are portrayed and perceived these days. Yes, I know millions of us suck.

Understand that the stink of rot and decay from the Dick-in-Bush regime will linger for years without end. The ghost of Christmas futures. If America lasts, folklore will remember them as the Murderer and the Retard. An idiot and an asshole. I can’t believe you people put up with this.

Enough is enough. It’s high time we abandon the low road. It’s hard not to hate. Hold a grudge. Punch the ignorant.

I think we must. Retribution and revenge are not useful now. I’m not saying it would make me sad to see any of these bitches at The Hague (the ICC), but we need to fish on. Karma will not be the only reason they taste their own blood.

Worst President and worst Vice President ever. Ever.

Drinks for my friends.

Man I’m in a ditch. Can’t seem to get out of the lower gears. Like a dream where I can’t sprint. Things taste funny and I barely clean up after myself. If only I could postpone Christmas. It rushes at me like a sheet of plywood caught and flung by a desert gust.

I think I should be some kind of Special Agent. I’d be very cool.

I’d still like to live in the forties. When you slammed the phone down in those days, everyone knew it.

I admit, I’m scared of chicks.

America is the only state to ever utilize nuclear technology as a weapon against another state.

The world was far more young then. Humankind had no paradigm available for such technology and it’s use.

We still don’t.

There’s been some championing of nuclear as energy of late. Help me out here. Have we come up with a way to deal with the waste that I don’t know about? I’m guessing we haven’t or I’d know about it. Understand that nuclear power is about as dumb an idea as can be without an efficacious methodology for dealing with the byproduct. The waste. The toxic fucking waste with a half life that lasts thousands of years.

Clean coal. Two words. No evidence.

If you wanna talk to me about this kinda crap, be prepared to blow me.

Moving right along. McCain can’t bring himself to vouch for Palin. Not because she’s stupid but because they both are.

Gas broke it’s eighty six day drop today.

Gun sales are all we can hope for.

Looks like meat’s back on the menu.

What exactly are we up to?

She said “Hang the rich.” -Robbie Robertson

Yeah, oh well.

Drinks for my friends.

Bear with me. Take your time. I had a lot to say.

Little explosions of pork fat in a heavy iron skillet. The fire is hot and I’m not sure, so I pull it off. Good move. The bacon just overdone but still sweaty and fatty. No aroma like that of fresh thick bacon. Most folks like it cooked this way. I use tongs to put it on a plate.

Motes bob and dance in rays of sun, a subject of birdsong, butterflies and dragonflies.

Man has almost complete authority over his own clock. Animals, from rodents to whales, have the sun.

I drop a fistfull of white raisins. Some diced yellow onions and a little butter into the cast iron.

Next up is to smack some eggs in the fat and put the skillet back on the crackling morning combustion. Beneath a canopy of primeval. This part’s easy. They cook like that, the eggs. Smacking and spattering. Hope ya like yours yellow loose. Quick and hot. Soft in the middle with brown bubbles at the edges. They’re done. Sea salt? Tapatio?

Someone else is doing coffee. I smell it. Raw like tilled earth. Berries.

Potatos cook the longest, garlic and rosemary. Moist in the center, otherwise crispy and taut. Steaming. Glistening with butter and oil. Fresh ground pepper. With potatos, I don’t play games I can’t win. The best way I’ve found.

Everyone stares up and around. Nobody looks at their food while they shovel it at their mouths. The savour does not compete with the vista, it compliments it, the ambiance of a deciduous forest in the chill of a late summer morning.

Have some champagne.

Next up, pine trees and a good classic novel. Some Fitzgerald or maybe Jack London. Twain. Capote. Then a nice clean spot to evacuate oneself and soap and water and towels after and what not.

I bring my own ointments and salves.

Maybe an afternoon walk.

I never would have made it as some pioneer or frontiersman. Maybe if I was some version of royalty. Afforded a certain amount of privilege and staff.

I just want to live in San Francisco.

Gin and chocolate.

I believe in mankind’s right to self medicate.

There is simply no reason in a country as wealthy as ours that people should go hungry, without health care or as much education as anyone can tolerate. I can’t stand it.

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and proclaim that a little socialism might not be bad for us. Not just to give the folks who fall through the cracks a leg up, but to headbutt the absurdly wealthy who have enjoyed political, social and economic advantage by virtue of obscene largess for so long, the phenomena has manifested a momentum of it’s own now centuries old.

It may also serve to highlight the perverted version of Capitalism and Democracy we have chosen to embrace. We are in a place where our adherence to and practice of “free market capitalism”, as is the contemporary model, isn’t merely foolish, it is reckless, dangerous and unconscionable.

Fear and spying, rendering and detaining, holding people indefinitely without charging them………what does that look like to you? An economy hit by a wave any fool saw coming, so strong as to temporarily capsize us despite our size, displacement and power? More waves on the way.

Rotting infrastructure and an attitude of every man for himself on twenty million lips at least.

Hated so much a journalist throws shoes at Dumbya’s melon inside the Green Zone? More on that later.

We are stupid and greedy. Not necessarily in that order.

Fuck anything that moves.

Make these prick CEO’s live in a motel for a season. Three months. Twenty bucks a day per diem. Introduce them to the miracle of cheap chunky peanut butter and applesauce on the same spoon.

Ssshhhhhhhhh!!!

I covet and admire the idea of self determination. So far, the concept and my practice thereof has allowed me to reap almost exactly what I’ve sewn. Can’t ask for more than than that. What I’d like to see is that degree of parity afforded to not just every American regardless of race, color or creed, but every human.

We could render organized religion obsolete by achieving just that. Wouldn’t that be nice? I think so.

Replace an archaic institution that withholds (religion), with a concept, maybe a mandate, far more inclusive and progressive that holds as a fundamental ideal, prosperity of the earth and it’s inhabitants simultaneously. I’m a goddamn genius. Give me a can of beer and a Nobel, bitches.

Anyway.

I honestly believe that the defining moment of Dumbya’s reign occured on this very day, December Fourteen, the year of our Lord, 2008. I’m sure you’ve seen the footage by now. To his credit, our President did skillfully dodge two well launched shoes from not very far away. We learn that this is some major insult in that part of the world. To throw your shoes.

An Egyptian reporter with a pretty good arm fired said shoes at Dumbya’s head and screamed:
“This is a farewell … you dog!” “You killed the Iraqis!” -CNN

Ha! That’s goddamn golden. Forgive me, but if he’d taken one right in the fucking face? I would have called paramedics before screeching sobbing laughter could consume me. Go ahead, picture it. Me laughing ’til I puke or him taking one right in the kisser. Sheezus. That would have been gorgeous.

Picture it.

In any case, it was just so perfect. Vicariously cathartic. This really should be the swan song for the dumbest man to ever be President of America. We should remember him forever as the guy ducking shoes thrown hard by a journalist at a press conference in the “Green Zone”, the safest place in Iraq.

Bush Sr. had, “Read my lips…..”, Clinton had “I did not have sexual relations with that woman……”, Nixon had “I am not a crook”. Dumbya, among all the other ridiculous shit he’s said and done will nonetheless be remembered for his physical adroitness in ducking angry shoe leather in contrast to his profound lack of any kind of mental acuity in any shape or form.

He still doesn’t get that he’s an idiot.

Meet your legacy you stupid sonofabitch. Beet the Meatles.

I just want him to know what a complete loser he is. It’s not just angst. Hundreds of thousands died because no one in this man’s life had sense enough to teach him banjo and take him to the river everyday. They took him to school instead. Millions of Americans made the same mistake and now we’ll pay for it.

I went to hand her the remote. She said put it next to me dear, I’m scratching my butt right now. I looked and she was. So I did.

The Holidays. Weird. Didn’t have the Christmas I was used to last year. The old man was sick. Very. Spent my time at the hospital or sleeping because I’m a pussy and that’s what I do when I’m afraid. He’s so good now I want to punch him in the mouth.

To know my old man is to understand that he’s the shit. He’s only afraid of one thing. It has nothing to do with him. If you’re smart you’ll guess it.

My brother in law, Todd, a man I’ve known of since we were boys, lost his Mother just a few months before. Her name was Dixie and I really liked her. She was a writer. I see her face.

Here it is again. The Holidays. I’m expecting something different this year. It will be somewhere between now and then. Holidays are always a little step back in time. We may all have a similiar lense for this one. I hope so. I’m looking for the love and warmth of family unmitigated by illness and sadness. He is well now. I think it will be big and special.

My ass is broke so the only gift I have is my etchings.

Not being able to buy Christmas presents used to scare the crap out of me. It nightmared me. I was a fairly prodigious giver. I’ll bring really good wine.

Life is good.

Here’s the thing. A well worn theme for me, forgive me if I bore you. The difference between humans and animals is not the ability to reason. It’s not love or compassion. If you’ve ever been lucky enough to share your life with an animal you loved, you feel me. The difference isn’t even a sense of humor. Every cat I’ve ever shared a house with has been funny as fuck and tragic all at once.

The difference is art. Animals don’t make art for the sake of art. Humans do.

I sit telling you this, one of my cats is high up in a ficus tree I’ve had for twenty years that has been dead for at least a year. My other cat sits next to me on a dilapidated red velvet sofa staring at her. If only they could talk and I could understand them.

Happy Holidays.

Drinks for my friends.

My Old Man told me once that some people are dumber than dirt.

Joe The Plumber.

Fuck me.

Douchebag.

Think Progress reports that Joe Wurzelbacher isn’t a huge fan of the man who made him famous. He told conservative radio host Glenn Beck that he felt “dirty” after “being on the campaign trail and seeing some of the things that take place.”

Asked why he didn’t leave McCain’s campaign if he was “appalled” by the candidate, Wurzelbacher said, “Honestly, because the thought of Barack Obama as president scares me even more.” -The Huffington Post

The faux plumber felt dirty.

Touted and foisted on us as some kind of average American, Joe The Plumber, first name not Joe and not a plumber, fooled a lot of the people a lot of the time. The really dumb ones. Seems there’s an assload of them.

Us. Turns out, he represents.

He’s in the mirror.

A cro-magnon arbiter of what is everyman in America.

Even if he were genuine, how well would that work? This guy is uninformed, simple and stupid. It does reflect badly on us that a cartoon character so lame as to barely occupy two dimensions in black & white, is so adept at inspiring so many open mouths on blank faces. I mean to say that this man is an idiot and you might be too.

Watch for his book soon.

I’ll take two, one to shit on, the other to cover it up with.

While Wurzelbacher was critical of McCain, he gushed about Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin. “Sarah Palin is absolutely the real deal,” he said. -The Huffington Post

See what I’m saying?

After all is said and done, Wurzelbacher bought Palin’s schtick hook line and sinker.

Douchebag.

Only in America.

To assess the phenomena of Joe the Wurzelbacher, one would have to approach from an intellectually honest, learned sociological perspective. I’m far too sedentary for that shit. I will tell you this. He represents the zeitgeist of archaic and lazy minds. Millions of them. Tens of millions.

Frightening.

Despite this recent grandiose display of wisdom and common sense presented to you by the majority of the American electorate, there are still an incomprehensible amount of fucktards out there. What exactly to do about this I have no idea.

Drinks for my friends.

Dec 11, 2008 6:18 PM
Employee Free Choice Act-What is it and why it is so important
If only one bill makes it way through to passage in Congress during their next session, it should be the Employee Free Choice Act. Unless you are a union activist, or a worker who is trying to organize a union in their workplace, you probably have no idea what the EFCA is, or why it is so important.

In a perfect world, where the basic human rights of the working person were respected, there would be no reason to have labor unions. We don’t live in a perfect world. In fact, more workers than ever before need labor unions because without them, workers are unable to collectively bargain with employers for decent wages, safe working conditions, healthcare benefits for themselves and their families, and retirement pensions.

In the business world, labor is simply thought of as a cost to be contained. The ivory tower of highly paid executives gives little or no thought to the idea that the labor cost numbers reflected on their profit and loss spreadsheet actually represent people. If they were to look beyond the numbers, and understand that people are important, more important than stockholder equity, or corporate profits, there would be no need for labor unions. But that is not the real world.

Over the last several decades, many states have enacted “right to work” legislation. The direct result of this legislation has been to allow workers to benefit directly from union negotiated collective bargaining agreements, without having to join the union, and pay membership dues. Union treasuries have lost millions of dollars, and with this, they have lost much of their power. Most unions now have significantly fewer members. There is little motivation for workers to join unions when they can get the same pay and benefits as the union members get without having to join the union.

Ultimately, the purpose of “right to work” legislation was to push labor unions to the brink. With fewer members, unions have less clout in the form of bargaining power with employers. This means fewer employee pay increases, less healthcare coverage, and little money for retirement pensions. All of this has been good for corporate execuitves and bad for workers and unions.

Today, when many workers attempt to organize their workplace, they meet tremendous resistance from employers. It is typical for employers to force employees to attend “educational meetings” where they must listen to anti-union propaganda, and for them to hear that a labor union will force the company to go bankrupt and they will lose their jobs. It is also not unusual to hear about union organizers getting fired from their jobs, simply because they want to join a union.

The Employee Free Choice Act would go a long way towards righting some of these wrongs. President-elect Obama has promised that he would sign the bill if it is approved by Congress. Under the terms of the bill, workers would be free to hold an election to join a union, and with a simple majority, the union would immediately be able to engage in collective bargaining with the employer.

Many misconceptions exist about unions. Many are old stereotypes about corruption that are outdated and simply untrue. Labor unions do not seek to have employers go out of business. That is foolishness, and runs counter to the goals of providing workers with employment security. The goal of the labor union movement is to provide workers and their families with a decent life. It is time we see labor in human terms. We need the Employee Free Choice Act to become law so that workers and their unions can work together to improve the quality of life for working Americans.

When I took my oath as a union member of an AFL-CIO affiliated union, I promised that, “the will of the majority I will always abide by”. That is at the center of my beliefs as an American. We live in a free society with a democratically elected government. As workers, we should have the same right to govern ourselves within our workplace.

Write your members of Congress today and tell them how important passing the Employee Free Choice Act is to you. With your help, we can get this bill signed into law, and improve the lives of millions of working Americans.

Dec 13, 2008 3:18 AM
The Union
The American Civil War (1861–1865), also known as the War Between the States and several other names, was a civil war in the United States of America. Eleven Southern slave states declared their secession from the U.S. and formed the Confederate States of America (the Confederacy). Led by Jefferson Davis, they fought against the U.S. federal government (the “Union”), which was supported by all the free states and the five border slave states.

No, not that Union, this union:

The International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America, better known as the United Auto Workers (UAW), is a labor union which represents workers in the United States, Canada, and Puerto Rico. Founded in order to represent workers in the automobile manufacturing industry, UAW members in the 21st century work in industries as diverse as health care, casino gaming and higher education.

Why are these guys against the auto industry loan guarantees? The Union, the United Auto Workers (UAW).

Alabama Senator Richard Shelby, who has been particularly vocal in his opposition of financial assistance for the Big Three, said on “Meet the Press,” stated that:

We don’t need government — governmental subsidies for manufacturing in this country. It’s the French model, it’s the wrong road. We will pay for it. The average American taxpayer is going to pay dearly for this, if I’m not wrong.

Senator Richard Shelby is the senator from Alabama. The same Alabama that offered lucrative incentives (subsidies) to Mercedes Benz in the early 1990s to lure the German automobile manufacturer to the State.

Alabama offered a stunning $253 million incentive package to Mercedes. Additionally, the state also offered to train the workers, clear and improve the site, upgrade utilities, and buy 2,500 Mercedes Benz vehicles. All told, it is estimated that the incentive package totaled anywhere from $153,000 to $220,000 per created job. On top of all this, the state gave the foreign automaker a large parcel of land worth between $250 and $300 million, which was coincidentally how much the company expected to invest in building the plant.

Where was your outrage then Senator?

Tennessee Senator Bob Corker has crafted a separate, three-pronged plan:

It would require the two firms closest to bankruptcy, General Motors and Chrysler, to reduce their debt by two-thirds. Bondholders would have “plenty of incentive to make sure that the debt is reduced by two-thirds” or risk losing even more if the firms go into Chapter 11, where their bonds might be further discounted, Corker said. “We’re going to force them into bankruptcy if they don’t do this,” he said bluntly.

He also would require that the Voluntary Employee Benefit Association, the entity created by the car firms and the UAW to handle retiree health care benefits, accept stock in lieu of half the cash payments due. The carmakers had agreed to fund VEBA but can no longer afford to do so. “If a company goes bankrupt, these future payments are never going to happen anyway,” he said.

Finally, Corker’s bill would force the UAW to lower its members’ wages to the level of workers at the American “transplants,” the factories in Tennessee and other states owned by Toyota, Hyundai and other foreign car companies.

Notice he is going after the Union. Why?

Senator Corker, how’s that new Volkswagen plant going in Chattanooga? How about Nissan’s North American headquarters and Nissan plant in Tennessee?

Tennessee offered its richest incentive package — and perhaps the most government assistance and tax breaks ever for an American automobile plant — to lure Volkswagen to Chattanooga. How about $500 million in government assistance and tax breaks for VW alone?

Where was your outrage then Senator?

Then we have Kentucky Senator Mitch McConnell. I’m sure you know where this is going. McConnell said the bill would be more appealing if Sen. Bob Corker (R-Tenn.) could add amendments that would require the automakers to reduce two-thirds of their outstanding debt through an equity swap with bondholders as a condition for aid. Corker would also require the companies to reduce labor costs, and mandate that a portion of payments automakers make to labor unions consist of company stock.

Senator, how’s your Toyota plant, the largest plant outside of Japan? Senator McConnell claims Toyota is doing well, while their stock has fallen 50% since the beginning of the year.

Toyota makes hybrids in Kentucky, as well as other cars, yet Senator McConnell has led the charge to stop any legislation that would have pushed up CAFÉ standards, that would have driven the auto industry to higher MPG standards.

McConnell also voted FOR the $700B bailout of Wall Street.

Where was your outrage then Senator?

So, why are so many Southern Senators against loans for the (American) auto industry? Are they confused about the whole “Union” thing?

Peace,
J

Just by talking.

Who is this fuck from Illinois? This Governor. An idiot. Rod Blagojevich.

Forgive me, it’s a stupid name. Just this side of pornstar without the requisite cheesy moustache. Too bad. Low hairline. Good enough. I’ve barely ever heard of this guy. He looks a little like a complete dipshit.

We likes us some Patrick Fitzgerald. Same prosecutor who smoked Scooter Libby. Subpoenaed Darth Cheney. This guy I admire. Big cubes and what seems to be a an absolute lust for truth, justice and the American way. Not pretty at all, just matter of fact. His reputation is thus: Don’t fucking lie to him.

I’m pretty sure this dickweed, Rod Blagojevich, lied to Mr. Fitzgerald. That pissed off this special prosecutor. You won’t like him when he’s angry.

Our Man should promote him. He may be compelled to.

I imagine this take down was a little easier than the Plamegate clusterfuck. The level of douchebaggery was far less sophisticated. Four of the last eight Governors of this state have been ignorant prideful dipshits. This guy, a Democrat no less, might just be the world’s premier idiot.

At least this week.

I’m not some patsy. I understand Democratic politics in Chicago. It goes back before JFK. I know. I know.

I hate hubris.

Seriously, how big of a megalomaniac must one sonafabitch be to assume he can sell a United States Senate seat to the highest bidder? I mean, the seat at play has been vacated by a President Elect. Are you fucking kidding me?

The asshole in question has an impressive pedigree. Northwestern, Pepperdine and a hardscrabble early life. I wonder if that’s why he thinks he’s someone or something he’s not. However he arrived at that notion, I loath him for it. Throw his ass on the fire. Never even talk about him again.

Rasmussen called him “America’s Least Popular Governor.” He’s a low hairline gangster. How does this happen? This is regoddamndiculous.

I understand the culture of corruption in Chicago to be pervasive but come on. Seriously. Who does this fuck imagine himself to be?

Today Our Man asks him to walk away. Dick Durbin too. To go as far away as he can get. True to form, the idiot stays and plays the idiot, turns his back instead of taking a walk. The giant vagina move. Trust me.

I honestly can’t give a mad fuck what this guy’s party affiliation is. Where do these people come from? How do they get elected? Yes, he’s a Democrat. But he’s a sociopath first. Just like Tom DeLay, Bill Frist, Kwame Kilpatrick and Larry “widestance” Craig. All ridiculous people at the end of the day.

Then an absurd populace right there in the mirror. C’mon. That’s what it is. We are responsible. Not me. Heh. The people of Illinois, the people of Sugarland Texas, Tennessee and Detroit. I wouldn’t be suprised if each one of these losers has access to the water supply of their respective constituencies.

It’s either that or most Americans are simply retarded.

Me, I think it’s some embarrassing ratio that math would demonstrate is almost exclusively absurd, somewhat retarded with a distant third being crazy.

How do Americans stay hopeful with this shit in the headlines?

We’re working on it.

Drinks for my friends.

I never actually bleed when I’m sick.

When there is pain, there is no blood.

When I’m sick, the bleeding stops.

An ear closes and the blood stops.

It will return when I feel better.

The bleeding.

See, the insistent periphery of my enduring malaise only rises to the occassion when other issues are at a minimum.

To remind me that no matter what, I’ll never be well.

Normal is out of my reach, and therefore, so is peace.

My cross to bear, for whatever reason.

Who, besides a fool, trusts the universe?

Drinks for my friends.

Biscuits and gravy baby.

Glazed ham. Mint Jelly and foul smelling lamb. Men in porkpie hats and seersucker jackets.

People who refuse to understand.

Me, I like to plumb the depths. Best way to go. People are always interested in the bottom. As am I.

Because I can’t stand it. So many men are boys and that confounds me. Dumbya is one bewildered little boy. He had no idea what he was getting into and no doubt he’s not even remotely cognizant of the damage he has wrought. Absolutely tragic.

I could tell you things. Crazy shit. Fishmongers. Surgeons. Sausage kings. Cigar aficianados. Whistle punks and excellent shovelers.

Sometimes I like to pile on, make something out of nothing, call a spade a goddamn spade. Always ends up being the absolute truth.

I gotta tell ya, craziness is pervasive. It’s everywhere.

I don’t like people or dislike them. I love them or hate them.

We are all just dust in the wind.

Matty is a punk.

He believes he’s funny. He is mistaken. I may need to wash my hands.

It’s as though he anticipates the worst place to put a foot when the time comes.

It burns burns burns, that ring of fire, that ring of fire.

Between me and mine. Stupid fuck.

Things are awful among those I know. Just awful.

I see their faces and I know to worry.

On the other hand, untruths. Bad ones. Ones that give me pause.

What to do now? This is fucked up.

Eddie Money’s first record is as pure a pop masterpiece as ever has been. Genius production and songwriting. Gorgeous. It rivals the Foo Fighters “The Color and The Shape” and Green Day’s “American Idiot”, in terms of butter flavor and bursting nuggets. We’re in Roger Miller and Neil Diamond territory. Don’t even look at me.

I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.

Here’s a tip: Crunchy brand Cheetos and Tostitos Salsa con Queso.

We move on from one place to another. Nobody notices.

My girlfriend is gubernatorial. Ever seen the movie “Excalibur”? It’s like three hours long and she knows every single word. “Gubernatorial” therefore being long for “goober”, as in geek. Who knew?

It’s crazy how we watch the the world literally atrophy while waiting for Our Man to assume the position. I suspect the attitude dividend will at least afford a glimpse at blue sky again. I’m counting on it.

Sometimes my own breath smells like an ass packed with gorganzola.

Reagan, what an anti-intellectual joke. George Dumbya is the labotomized brain on Reagan drugs. The Republican agenda. The post modern conservative doctrine. Trickle down bullshit. Stupid. Forgive me but Republicans are dipshits. Assholes. Idiots. Mouth breathing, crystallized snot festooned faced, barely distinguishable from the unfucking dead, unrepentant helmet wearing riders of the short bus to the goddamn mall.

To believe what they believe is a deformity. A genetic flaw that no amount of truth and/or physical therapy can correct. It makes me sad to tell you that they should probably all be institutionalized. This, for their well being as well as our own.

Here’s the thing. I found this Der Winerschnitzel that has beer on tap. Told ya about that already. The thing is this: my girl and I have discussed it; we can afford to explore the menu. It’s doable.

What I’m trying to tell you is that an open mind is optimum and essential. Don’t be afraid to combine various flavors. Combine Tater Tots with bacon, sour cream and avacado. All the sudden you’ve got trailer park nachos. The key is an open mind. Sometimes you’ll shit gravy and sometimes you’ll achieve a pinnacle of white trash cuisine. A palette of flavors deserving the accompaniment of wine from a chilled glass bottle.

At the end of the day, what’s to lose?

The other thing I’m trying to impart to you, in all seriousness, is that my significant other, much to my embarrassment, is a taco head. There are times where that is challenging in public. I worry. She has special needs. Certain ointments and protective gear.

I once knew a chronic masturbator named Sam. He was a damn good guitar player.

Sorry I couldn’t do any better Hunter. It’s all I had. This one’s for the lovely Ella. All six pounds and thirteen ounces of her innocence. Blessed be her red head. Welcome to earth. Peace to you and yours.

Drinks for my friends.

I actually discovered a Der Wienerschnitzel today that has beer on tap. In Burbank right there on Alameda and Olive. Fuck me, that’s genius. C’mon!

So we’d been drinking, we’re outta smokes so we so we go down a flight of stairs and we’re out the door and in the 7-11. It’s right next door. The guy behind the counter is new. First time either of us have ever seen him. Jesus Christ look at this guy’s hair I say to my girlfriend.

His hairline started just above his eyebrows and he’s got the thickest black pompadour I’ve ever witnessed. I can’t help it, I clock these things and they crack me the fuck up. I think of the phrase “shock of hair” and nearly piss myself. It looks as though it’s bursting from his skull. Ever seen the cover of Bad Music For Bad People by The Cramps?

In other news, I think about this whole hemp/marijuana issue and I’m disgusted. You know, the solution to a considerable amount of our problems could be contained in this right here. Oil, fuel, textiles. It’s one of the strongest natural fibers known to man and a renewable resource that can be turned around as often as every twelve weeks. So far we’re talking about a crop that wouldn’t get you high if you smoked a bale of it.

Production thereof originally outlawed by virtue of the influence of nineteenth century oil and paper magnates. Think William Randolph Hearst and the Rockefellers.

Then they demonized the weed by distributing propaganda where evil black jazz musicians smoked it and raped clueless unsuspecting white women. That shit happens all the time. Everyday. Whatever.

Did I tell ya I’m addicted to Viennna Sausages?

It’s completely ridiculous. All these people facing foreclosure need merely to be given the opportunity to renegotiate their loans. Forty years instead of thirty. An interest rate that isn’t usury. The bank still makes it’s money and people get to live, plant gardens and mow the goddamn lawn.

Frustrating because it’s so simple. Gimme a fucking break.

Four years ago today we found Tondaleo Bean The Negress dead on the floor. Today I was given a picture of her in a handmade frame. It was a sad day in general. I absolutely adored that cat.

Drinks for my friends.

Is a man at least as crazy as I am and I think maybe more so. Couple things about him. He’s an excellent artist who’s work I purchase whenever I have money and he paints something brilliant. He’s the most soft spoken honest man I’ve ever encountered. I’ve seen him shirtless, he has little wings between his arms and his torso.

He’s a little creepy but very friendly. His wife, LZ, is very similiar.

If I were rich, I’d purchase their son and hire them to hang out with me. I like these people. Friends for decades. You can’t imagine my affection for this man, his wife and their son. That son part is a little phony because I don’t really know him but I like what I see.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Chris Hataway

1. What is your occupation right now?
Artist, Cook, Handyman, Garbage man, Papa, Satan Worshiper, Doll stabber, dime store hood, bit part player in the play called life. Card carryin’ Loon

2. What color are your socks right now?
Socks? We don’t hafta show you no stinking socks (Sierra Madre answer)

3. What are you listening to right now?
Dogs Fucking. Yarn balls ageing. Mountains forming. It’s so quiet, I can’t hear myself not think…

4. What was the last thing that you ate?
Turkey nachos. Steamed shoe laces.

5. Can you drive a stick shift?
I can drive a stick through Draculas heart

6. Last person you spoke to on the phone?
Piston Remington, the famous soap box derby king

7. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
No, not one bit, I sent it to myself.

8. How old are you today?
Old enough to be your punching bag

9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV?
Is cooking a sport yet? Midget pole vault. Yard Flailing

10. What is your favorite drink?
Free booze. What you do is, you take a jigger of Virgin Blood, two tablespoons battery acid, a thimble of cocaine, one goat milk ice cube, a pinch of grave dirt, shake well and strain into a highball glass with an eye of newt at the bottom, give it a float of nitro glycerin (light it), garnish with bat wing. It’s called Draculas Awkward Flatulence

11. Have you ever dyed your hair?
My stars, yesterday I dyed it race car orange and then back again. Once I dyed my hair Purple because I really wanted the carpet to match the drapes.

12. Favorite food?
Dog. Denver Omelets. Leftover surprise. Nachos. Carne Asada Super Burritos. Pasta whathaveyou. More turf than serf, but serfs ok too. Sausage. Savory over sweet, but sweet treats come in handy sometimes.

13. What is the last movie you watched?
Dracula Jack-knife I-80, the Trucker Fuckers. The true answer is an oddity from 1974 called Prime Time. Television parody sketch comedy. Very non PC and pretty damn funny. One of many from the box I just bought called 50 Drive In Classics… Tonight I think I’ll be watching TNT Jackson. Before Prime Time,I fell asleep to The Bad Sleep Well. And before that I watched Shine a Light, the Rolling Stones concert film. Leslie and I just re-watched Lord of the Rings, it took us five days… Dracula VS. Mecha-Draczilla (why hasn’t anyone made that one?)

14. Favorite day of the year?
I like that one day when you wake up and you have a mission, a task, a plan, and you have all the tools you need and all the supplies, or if not all the supplies, you know where to get them, and when you get them, the traffic flows your way and you get back to the project and set to it and everything goes smoothly and if you hit a glitch you brain your way around it and keep on going until the task or the list of projects are all complete and the sun goes down and you can feel good about your day, job satisfaction ho! That happens once or twice a year…

15. How do you vent anger?
Kick Vents. Pop off at strangers. Stab kittens. Run my head into fence posts. Tell the Lord to go fuck a dust speck. Saw through Otter pops and toss curses to the wind.

16. What was your favorite toy as a child?
Rubbers.

17. What is your favorite season?
White Pepper. Sprong, Summner, Oddum, Winner. To every turn, thing- thing- thing-, there season is a, thing- thing- thing-, and to all turns, a heaven, under purpose…

18. Cherries or Blueberries?
Former Pie-ward, latter Flapjacks. Cherries are sexy, Blueberries sad

19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back?
Fuck no, thems a bunch o’ meanies

20. Who is the most likely to respond?
To what? Probably loud mouth Billy

21. Who is least likely to respond?
Trevor Rabin

22. City or country?
I like crappin’ outside.

23. When was the last time you cried?
Last time I crapped outside. Why, just this morning I cried over spilt milk. I don’t cry, I weep. I’ve been weeping for a few years straight. Last time I cried was when I couldn’t stay up all night to watch the Ten Commandments on TV when I was seven…

24. What is on the floor of your closet?
Gay skeleton bones

25. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to?
Jesus of Nazgul. You read me Jesus? I’m a-sendin’ Got yer ears on good buddy? See, the friend I’ve had longest that I’m sending to… The Earl of Cunt. Get thee behind me Santa

26. What did you do last night?
Tied myself up and threw myself over the falls. Bent over backwards for people. Read three Curious Whore-Hey books front to back, back to back.

27. What are you most afraid of?
Bags of chips. My brain turning on me. The world catching on that I’m totally full of shit. Aliens with chips on their scrawny shoulders. Vengeful Dinosaurs. Pole-shift. A-bombs. Horny teens.

28. Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers ?
Bacon Cheeseburder ga’dammit. Gimme the Awful-awful

29. Favorite dog breed?
Foot long trouser dogs. With jalapeños, kraut, mustard, catsup, red onion, and pickles. Give or take Mayo.

30. Favorite day of the week?
Monday, in your face joe workforce. Favorite day of the week… I’ve got to turn that one over to Janus Jop: “It’s all the same fucking day, man.”

31. How many states have you lived in?
Pretty much just one- confusion. Let’s see, 5 if you count up to ‘em on one hand, which I did.

32. Diamonds or pearls?
Shiny rocks or oyster tumors. I’ll go for pearls cause they come from the briny snot-monsters and then look so damn moonlighty. They cut your hand off if you steal diamonds from down the mine.

33. What is your favorite flower?
The Dragon Dungweenie. The Michalob Back-stabber. Bloom Bloom OutGoDaLights.

I’ve seen a spring.
I have.

We used to hike through the simmering sand and sagebrush to the closest mountain. Not far really, inside of a few miles. Other side of the airstrip. Hot and bright. Snakes in mind. Not much for a northern Nevada mountain. Maybe a thousand feet. Maybe.

Enough to pucker my starfish at ten years old.

The west face was closest, that was the side we climbed. A rockslide almost all the way up. Mostly volcanic I think. Pretty treacherous. The top was high enough to be cold with wind enough to make your jeans flap. It furnished an amazing view. Enough to put a choke in your neck when thinking about the same way down.

Scared the crap out of me.

The base of the mountain ended in a shallow canyon between it and a much smaller hill. Just behind the mouth of the canyon was a spring.

I clocked it’s greenery on the way up and wondered.

Very happy to be there after the way down.

Water pushing desert sand along with itself from a dark, half dollar sized hole at the bottom of a small pristine pool. This pool feeding a larger one under trees with cattails, reeds and grass growing lush. There were rabbits and birds and snakes.

Yellows, greens and blues with much sun and sky.

I had an epiphany that day. Frogs. The climb was the scariest thing I’d ever done. There was a gust of relief. Synapses lit up and dancing as I grasped the little oasis in a single swipe.

What I suddenly understood floored me.

We spent a little time. Maybe forty five minutes. Grateful to be there. I soaked it up. Moss, bees and dragonflies. Sunflowers and bubbling.

Was I a little late? I don’t know. Life’s complexity and requisite for balance began to reveal itself. An improbable ecosystem in an unlikely enviroment. Yet it thrived and sang. It vibrated and I knew why. I could see how and why it worked. It made sense to me. Scared me a little.

Pow.

I emptied a quart of sand from each shoe that day. That night I stared at the sky. I never stopped dreaming about that place one way or another. It allows me to contemplate the universe.

It frightens me now. It informs my nightmares. I’m sure it’s a scarier place today. Polluted.

The first time I remember my gaze landing on the big picture. The powerful gift of cognizance despite the self.

See what I’m saying?

Drinks for my friends.

“We don’t smoke marijuana in Muskogee;
We don’t take our trips on LSD
We don’t burn our draft cards down on Main Street;
We like livin’ right, and bein’ free.” -Merle Motherfuckin Haggard

We can target you by your cell phone and vaporize you. Level the entire block you’re on within ten minutes. A half an hour tops. Almost anywhere in the world.

Your mother was here. She didn’t have much to say. She left abruptly. Poor woman. Tragic underbite. Find her a stock car racing dentist. Ha. I know at least one.

We can’t pay our bills.

People run and just can’t seem to hide. Sometimes I have to get involved. Know them as I open them. Like books of blood, wherever you’re open, you’re red.

I stole that. From a master.

It just keeps coming.

“Boil, boil, toil and trouble”.

Canned tomatos.

“Ring around the rosy,
A pocketful of posies.
ashes, ashes.
We all fall down!.”

Everything’s fine. We’re doing great here. Who’s asking?

These days it’s like driving a beater. Nothing to lose. Park it anywhere. Abandon it if you need to.

As an undead, it’s comfortable. Anonymity is currency. Ignorance is bliss.

The DOW plummeted today like the breasts on a ninety year old mother of sixteen with double D cups upon being released from her bra. Like hanged men. Golf balls in fishnets. Get it? Fishnets?

India and Pakistan have long been less than fond of each other’s smell. So of course, terrorists from Pakistan really stiirred the shit in Mumbai last week. Just so you know, both countries have nukes, they hate each other and America hasn’t provided any incentive or example to behave at all.

“Things are great. Couldn’t be better. Better, start this again.” -Agnes Gooch

My idea of comfort food these days is Vienna Sausages and Cheetos. I like that cranberry juice without the high fructose corn syrup.

In the meantime, Our Man is assembling what was known in the 70’s and 80’s as a “Supergroup”. A dream team if you will. Hillary and Bill as Secretary of State? That’s good shit right there. They wonder aloud whether he can harness and control a stable of such strong and talented runners. Horses. I have not a single reservation. Not a single doubt.

He will make mistakes. Not yet though.

Big Bad Bill acquiesced a dowry and nine points to get his wife this gig. Obama gets to check Bubba’s ass if he wants. He can ask for a cough while he cups Bubba’s balls. He will request more than one deep breath.

This is a man that knows exactly what he’s doing.

Flat earthers that would lament the number of personnel invited to serve from the Clinton administration should be advised that those years were of unprecedented peace and prosperity. Literally, like nothing America had ever seen. Those who aren’t interested in that as a jumping off point can blow me.

The days of Don Rumsfeld, Condi Rice, Mike Brown, Henry Paulson, Tommy Franks, Paul Bremer and George Tenet, incompetent sycophants all, are over. Clearly not as concerned about his own ego as he is the future of his country and our world. The wind of their wake on your face as they leave the gate.

It is competence above all else. All the big brains that the ignorant love to make fun of. You will not be invited to join this team unless you’re whip smart. Unless you can bring it, you can’t come. It will be a formidable braintrust.

Who knows? The climate is mad. Hell may experience it’s first frost on inauguration day.

Everything seems to be falling apart and coming together at the same time.

Oh boy.

Drinks for my friends.