Mostly I am on my other blog lately, http://theelvesattic.blogspot.com and my site where I am pounding out my late3st book, http://wakingupjesus.blogspot.com
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Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Mark Twain's On Man and Beasts,,,,
The great mind grew cynical in the end, too battered by the slaughters of the civil warand the seeming winning of the world by railroad barons and other rich, mindlessly cruel capatlists throughout the world.
He kept his sense of humour until the end, but there is nothing child-like in the late writing that he wouldn't allow them to publish until 100 years after his death. This book is filled with scraps of how he viewed mankind as opposed to animals, which he saw as better than man in every way possible.
He was a bit of a misanthrope in the end, living with daughters after the death of beloved wife. He was famous and sought out, but he was too bitter to care. He was known for ignoring people who came to talk to him, though he was said to always take hours out of his day to play with any stray cat that came along. Loving animals is easier than humans, because we can basically understand why they do what they do, because they have limited language games/cultural--biological patterns to choose from. They bite, they purr, they bark, they want to go out... etc.
In 'On Man and Beast,' the stories range from balls out comparisions of humans and pets, to stories about the devil appearing to some kids and creating villages to show creation with tiny people, and then slaughtering them all just to make a point. Other stories are a bit more pathetic, like the man who beats his dog so bad it has an eye hanging out, but when the man is injured, the dog does all it can to help him. Lucky for us, most of the stories are funnier than that one.
This is an incredibly enlightened view for his time, when most animals were still thought of as nothing but a meat or a ride. People have always loved animals, but it is obvious that it would be difficult to allow a lot of emotions to develop for a pig that is going to be eaten, or a cat that is simplyt there to eat the rats on the farm, etc... I have written in here before about the expanding of the human ethical circle that is taking place now. Back in Twain's time, native americans, blacks, women, the Chinese -- basically, anyone who was not white and comely or rich -- was demonized. The xenophobia of our mammalian nature was rampant, and culture had yet to alter the genetics of a chimp that had to distrust any chimp not from their tribe (at least the ones run by males).
How did we change? One study showed that a group of apes lost all of their alpha males, because they were the fighters for garbage back about twenty years ago, and they all caught a disease and died. Now, though they are xenophobic, without these males the females created an entirely different tribe. More about sharing than fighting for a place in the heirarchy. This state of affairs last until the present day. Basically, their environment caused their culture to change, and they found a better way to live.
This has happened to humans over and over, too fast for any of us to sit down and find causation, like this chimp study was able to do. Mark Twain, in the end, seems to have lost hope in humans. A lot of this was the result of his being fed romantic notions when he was a child -- a universe complete with a god, and the truth was almost too much for him to bear.
He kept his sense of humour until the end, but there is nothing child-like in the late writing that he wouldn't allow them to publish until 100 years after his death. This book is filled with scraps of how he viewed mankind as opposed to animals, which he saw as better than man in every way possible.
He was a bit of a misanthrope in the end, living with daughters after the death of beloved wife. He was famous and sought out, but he was too bitter to care. He was known for ignoring people who came to talk to him, though he was said to always take hours out of his day to play with any stray cat that came along. Loving animals is easier than humans, because we can basically understand why they do what they do, because they have limited language games/cultural--biological patterns to choose from. They bite, they purr, they bark, they want to go out... etc.
In 'On Man and Beast,' the stories range from balls out comparisions of humans and pets, to stories about the devil appearing to some kids and creating villages to show creation with tiny people, and then slaughtering them all just to make a point. Other stories are a bit more pathetic, like the man who beats his dog so bad it has an eye hanging out, but when the man is injured, the dog does all it can to help him. Lucky for us, most of the stories are funnier than that one.
This is an incredibly enlightened view for his time, when most animals were still thought of as nothing but a meat or a ride. People have always loved animals, but it is obvious that it would be difficult to allow a lot of emotions to develop for a pig that is going to be eaten, or a cat that is simplyt there to eat the rats on the farm, etc... I have written in here before about the expanding of the human ethical circle that is taking place now. Back in Twain's time, native americans, blacks, women, the Chinese -- basically, anyone who was not white and comely or rich -- was demonized. The xenophobia of our mammalian nature was rampant, and culture had yet to alter the genetics of a chimp that had to distrust any chimp not from their tribe (at least the ones run by males).
How did we change? One study showed that a group of apes lost all of their alpha males, because they were the fighters for garbage back about twenty years ago, and they all caught a disease and died. Now, though they are xenophobic, without these males the females created an entirely different tribe. More about sharing than fighting for a place in the heirarchy. This state of affairs last until the present day. Basically, their environment caused their culture to change, and they found a better way to live.
This has happened to humans over and over, too fast for any of us to sit down and find causation, like this chimp study was able to do. Mark Twain, in the end, seems to have lost hope in humans. A lot of this was the result of his being fed romantic notions when he was a child -- a universe complete with a god, and the truth was almost too much for him to bear.
rant on the silly, silly believers of lies, lies, lies...
I saw a show last night on Palastinian terrorists, interviews with a few that were in Israeli custody after involving themselves. When asked why these 24 year old commanders where sending kids to their deaths, the explanations all came back to the 72 virgins, rivers of yogurt (a new one on me) in various flavors, another of NON alcholic wine -- somehow, this made me laugh even after seeing the carnage of their bombs.
I am symphathetic to the Palastinians and the Israeli's, though the fundamentally religious on both sides could be disposed of as far as I am concerned. Without religion, both sides could come together as equals, the descendents of desperate people in desperate times who did desperate things. They could all drink alcholic wine and toast the future, instead of being living eulogies for the past. Living Eulogies. That is what the palastinians are.
The arguements these guys had all sounded logical, to a mind trashed on the silly polymics of war propoganda. Me, the mind attempting to see the world as scientific and pre-scientific, saw only kids playing a stupid game. They think heaven exists and has awards for killing. Only a religion could convince people of something so ass backwards. To fight a war by sending your children out to fight is one thing; sending them to certain death is another altogether. Can you imagine the uproar in a civilized country if we did this? But, the difference is that the people in the camps are depressed and collectively encouraging suicide as a way out; scientifically based cultures do the exact opposite.
It is funny that culture is how we keep the ape in line, but it also has the dark side of perverting what is noble and right in nature. If everyone were forced to read EO Wilson's books and were somehow lead to understand the implications, we could maybe move on beyond the deadly dreams of religion. We could see that apes have some of the traits we consider most noble in ourselves, and they do so without the libraries filled with culture and reasons and gods and what-not. self help books are a great example. Hundreds come out every month and people buy them, live in the dream for a little bit and get some reward, then move on to another dream in another book.
The pseudo science behind most therapy is known to intellectuals -- like the oh so interesting statistics about how psycho therapy actually extends depressions beyond the normal time that they would go away without therapy -- which amounts to paying someone to encourage us to wallow in our own shit. Not to mention that therapists have a vested interest in keeping you sick, because they like your money as much as you do. Don't kid yourself -- 'players only love you when they're playing.'
So.... the upshot of this entry was merely to say that we can give children a view of the world that is emotionally warm and kind and animalistic without a god. The apes did it just because their jocks were all killed off.
I would have loved to have learned this when I was in high school, when I could not understand why interesting women dating weird and brutal men. Those same women want guys like me now. I don't want them though.
I want a weird girl who was ostracized in high school because she is a smart, individual thinker, who, like me, is less bound to the most cliche' ways of being a human than most. I am lucky to have found a woman who values love and fun and honor more than she worships the market and its minoins.
So, ape it up!!!!!
I am symphathetic to the Palastinians and the Israeli's, though the fundamentally religious on both sides could be disposed of as far as I am concerned. Without religion, both sides could come together as equals, the descendents of desperate people in desperate times who did desperate things. They could all drink alcholic wine and toast the future, instead of being living eulogies for the past. Living Eulogies. That is what the palastinians are.
The arguements these guys had all sounded logical, to a mind trashed on the silly polymics of war propoganda. Me, the mind attempting to see the world as scientific and pre-scientific, saw only kids playing a stupid game. They think heaven exists and has awards for killing. Only a religion could convince people of something so ass backwards. To fight a war by sending your children out to fight is one thing; sending them to certain death is another altogether. Can you imagine the uproar in a civilized country if we did this? But, the difference is that the people in the camps are depressed and collectively encouraging suicide as a way out; scientifically based cultures do the exact opposite.
It is funny that culture is how we keep the ape in line, but it also has the dark side of perverting what is noble and right in nature. If everyone were forced to read EO Wilson's books and were somehow lead to understand the implications, we could maybe move on beyond the deadly dreams of religion. We could see that apes have some of the traits we consider most noble in ourselves, and they do so without the libraries filled with culture and reasons and gods and what-not. self help books are a great example. Hundreds come out every month and people buy them, live in the dream for a little bit and get some reward, then move on to another dream in another book.
The pseudo science behind most therapy is known to intellectuals -- like the oh so interesting statistics about how psycho therapy actually extends depressions beyond the normal time that they would go away without therapy -- which amounts to paying someone to encourage us to wallow in our own shit. Not to mention that therapists have a vested interest in keeping you sick, because they like your money as much as you do. Don't kid yourself -- 'players only love you when they're playing.'
So.... the upshot of this entry was merely to say that we can give children a view of the world that is emotionally warm and kind and animalistic without a god. The apes did it just because their jocks were all killed off.
I would have loved to have learned this when I was in high school, when I could not understand why interesting women dating weird and brutal men. Those same women want guys like me now. I don't want them though.
I want a weird girl who was ostracized in high school because she is a smart, individual thinker, who, like me, is less bound to the most cliche' ways of being a human than most. I am lucky to have found a woman who values love and fun and honor more than she worships the market and its minoins.
So, ape it up!!!!!
novel excerpt... fake radio interview
CHRISTOPHER J. BAHNSEN/314-76-8936: Hello again. This is Chris B’s voice coming out of your dashboard, earphones, stereo, metal plates and any other devices suitable for receiving radio waves. We’re back with our first guests, two local men who have written a book that claims one of them smuggled cocaine into Texas while working for the CIA. You’ve all heard of the Cocaine, CIA connection? Is this history, or bunk? Where do you weigh in, my loyal, Two Am listeners? Let me know. Set your speed-dial on 862-8595 and start hitting flash and redial. If you’ve been good, the karma will be with you and you’ll get to ask our guests-or myself-for an opinion on your own pet conspiracy theory.
I like that – pet conspiracy theories, it could be something like pet rocks, but this box would just be empty. Ha, that at least got my producer laughing.
GILBERT: We aren’t conspiracy theorists. Bill doesn’t know anything about UFO’s, the gnomes of Munich, or how many people fired into Kennedy’s head. He has a story, about Iran-Contra, which is true. I’m the other guest, the ghostwriter. Dave Gilbert.
BAHNSEN: This press release, in my hand, says that the CIA released the crack plague on the black community in Los Angeles. Now, if the government dealing drugs to the brother’s isn’t a conspiracy theory, then I’m going to need a new definition for the term.
GILBERT: The agent, she is trying to sell the book and she has her way of doing things, okay? She takes the most vivid parts and plays them up, like anyone trying to sell something to an idiotic market. As far as the coke and blacks, we speculate briefly for a few paragraphs on that matter, and then move straight back to our, ‘Joe Friday, Just the facts, Ma’am,’ attitude.
BAHNSEN: So, now you’re saying the CIA didn’t give the blacks crack cocaine, which is the exact opposite of your press release?
GILBERT: We say that the CIA did end up having a small part in unleashing crack, regardless of their intentions. Our Book is the facts, you know? People in the CIA protested the cocaine, too, from the very start. But, they still let the cartels smuggle in god knows how much coke?
BAHNSEN: Well, it still sounds like a conspiracy theory to me. In fact, if my grandpa were here he might say, you have a pig in your lap and you’re telling me it’s a chicken. But whatever you are, let’s move beyond the labels, if possible, and get to the facts of the story – or at least, your spin on the facts.
GILBERT: When I was writing short stories, no one thought I was unbalanced. In fact, people kind of assumed that I knew what I was talking about. Now, it’s like I’m carrying around signs saying, ‘The world ended last Tuesday.’ Hey, we just wrote a book about a military operation, okay? A history book, of sorts.
BAHNSEN: Hey, Bill, how did you get a gig like working for the CIA? Did you answer an ad asking for a spook, or what?
PERRY: I was going to try to tell my story from the beginning to end, in sequence, like Dave and me planned.
GILBERT: Answer him Bill.
PERRY: A guy came up to me in a bar in Korea and said that he’d heard I was one of the best low-to-the-ground pilots in the Army. I was better than the guys who I went through basics with, on account of I started crop dusting way back when I was a eleven, or twelve. I explained to him about the crop dusting.
BAHNSEN: In the press release, you say that you can’t talk about your other missions - what’s up with that?
PERRY: A lot of what I know is covered by my Loyalty Oath.
GILBERT: That translates to mean that it would be illegal for Bill to talk about covert activity.
BILL: Yea, but this is different. This book, now, it goes and describes missions that have already been exposed, written about and such. The other missions are still classified. Nobody but them and me knows about em’, and it would probably wind my ass up in jail, at least, if I told the press everything I know. I won’t. I am still loyal to my country and proud of what I did
BAHNSEN: Wait a minute, then why are you writing about cocaine?
PERRY: I wouldn’t be talking about the cocaine if all this hadn’t already come out in other books. I just figured, if it’s all out there any ways, why shouldn’t a soldier who was there make a little something off it, you know? Plus, and Dave pointed this out to me, all the books were pretty one sided. None of them had anything good to say about what we did, and there was at least some good to it, even if it were only our intentions, you know? Though I gotta say, Dave would only write the book if he had his say, too, and he’s a mushy hearted liberal. What do you expect from a poet?
GILBERT: Bill, you were going to describe the flight into El Salvador?
PERRY: Yeah. Well, when they called me up, all they said was that a battalion of soldiers were trapped in enemy territory and needed guns and supplies.
BAHNSEN: You left home not knowing which war you were going into?
GILBERT: At any one time on this planet, America is fighting, or backing someone’s fight, just about everywhere, you know? They called Bill up to make this flight after Congress cut off the money for the Contra’s because of their nun-killing death squads. That’s the army that the operative was talking about when he called Bill, the Contra’s. The CIA had put this army of Contra’s together, and all of a sudden Congress wanted us to leave them at the mercy of the enemy? Reagan decided to just take the war covert, throw out the press and hide the whole thing behind a flood of disinformation and outright lies. Plausible denial was coined about then. Go on with the story, Bill.
PERRY: They told me that I would be flying out of Texas. I took my twin engine duster down, landed at this strip that was all out by itself in the dessert. They had planes already loaded and ready to go, six cargoes, beat up looking things covered in mud. We flew out in formation, following a Colombian pilot down. He had a guy from MI on his plane with him. The strip . . .
GILBERT: MI is Military Intelligence.
PERRY: Yea, that’s right. The runway was in a jungle, a strip cut into the trees. When we first got there, we had to circle until they removed this green camouflage netting. You couldn’t see the landing strip until they took that shit off. As they peeled it back, a thin line of brown mud appeared, and that’s where we put them down. There were soldiers all over, South Americans, and most of them started unloading the planes. I guess they were Contras. It ain’t the kind of situation where you can ask questions, you know? It only took em’ about twenty minutes to unload us. When we were empty, I thought we were ready to fly back, but this spook, or at least I think he was CIA, told me to wait. He got me a beer out of a cooler he had in his humvee. Nice guy. Maybe twenty minutes later, this transport truck pulls up all filled with burlap bags, and the soldiers start putting the bags in the planes. I wouldn’t have known what was in them, more than likely, if a soldier hadn’t dropped one off the truck. The bag broke open, split right in the middle all the way around and a white cloud shot up just covering this guy from head to toe. The others started laughing, then the guy who was all covered in white started acting like he was snorting the stuff off himself - though he wasn’t really. I was laughing, too, even though I couldn’t follow what they were saying. They cleaned up that shit. . . Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that ‘s’ word. Any way, they cleaned up that coke carefully, too, with a dust vac. When they were done loading the planes, we flew back to the same strip in Texas. I picked up my plane there and came home. When all this was happening, I didn’t know much about the Contra’s were, or whether the coke had been confiscated, or what. It was only years later, after people started writing about John Kerry’s senate investigations into this, that I understood what I had been a part of. For instance, I found out why the CIA called me in -- they were trying to cover, temporarily, for the loss of the Army pilots, which they eventually did, by replacing them with the coke cartel’s pilots. They were already using the Cartels planes and jungle airports, so it was a logical step.
GILBERT: Basically, the CIA made a deal with the Cartels to use their secret airline to fly guns into South America. In exchange, the Company let the cartel fill up the return flights with coke and land at their ranch in Texas, where they didn’t have to bother with little matters like customs, or the DEA.
BAHSEN: Your press release says that better than a dozen pilots were, and I quote, ‘murdered into silence.’ If you’re story is true, then why won’t the CIA come after you?
GILBERT: There’s the proof that you seem to need to know that we aren’t a couple of nuts, okay? We don’t think that the CIA is out to get us, all right?
I like that – pet conspiracy theories, it could be something like pet rocks, but this box would just be empty. Ha, that at least got my producer laughing.
GILBERT: We aren’t conspiracy theorists. Bill doesn’t know anything about UFO’s, the gnomes of Munich, or how many people fired into Kennedy’s head. He has a story, about Iran-Contra, which is true. I’m the other guest, the ghostwriter. Dave Gilbert.
BAHNSEN: This press release, in my hand, says that the CIA released the crack plague on the black community in Los Angeles. Now, if the government dealing drugs to the brother’s isn’t a conspiracy theory, then I’m going to need a new definition for the term.
GILBERT: The agent, she is trying to sell the book and she has her way of doing things, okay? She takes the most vivid parts and plays them up, like anyone trying to sell something to an idiotic market. As far as the coke and blacks, we speculate briefly for a few paragraphs on that matter, and then move straight back to our, ‘Joe Friday, Just the facts, Ma’am,’ attitude.
BAHNSEN: So, now you’re saying the CIA didn’t give the blacks crack cocaine, which is the exact opposite of your press release?
GILBERT: We say that the CIA did end up having a small part in unleashing crack, regardless of their intentions. Our Book is the facts, you know? People in the CIA protested the cocaine, too, from the very start. But, they still let the cartels smuggle in god knows how much coke?
BAHNSEN: Well, it still sounds like a conspiracy theory to me. In fact, if my grandpa were here he might say, you have a pig in your lap and you’re telling me it’s a chicken. But whatever you are, let’s move beyond the labels, if possible, and get to the facts of the story – or at least, your spin on the facts.
GILBERT: When I was writing short stories, no one thought I was unbalanced. In fact, people kind of assumed that I knew what I was talking about. Now, it’s like I’m carrying around signs saying, ‘The world ended last Tuesday.’ Hey, we just wrote a book about a military operation, okay? A history book, of sorts.
BAHNSEN: Hey, Bill, how did you get a gig like working for the CIA? Did you answer an ad asking for a spook, or what?
PERRY: I was going to try to tell my story from the beginning to end, in sequence, like Dave and me planned.
GILBERT: Answer him Bill.
PERRY: A guy came up to me in a bar in Korea and said that he’d heard I was one of the best low-to-the-ground pilots in the Army. I was better than the guys who I went through basics with, on account of I started crop dusting way back when I was a eleven, or twelve. I explained to him about the crop dusting.
BAHNSEN: In the press release, you say that you can’t talk about your other missions - what’s up with that?
PERRY: A lot of what I know is covered by my Loyalty Oath.
GILBERT: That translates to mean that it would be illegal for Bill to talk about covert activity.
BILL: Yea, but this is different. This book, now, it goes and describes missions that have already been exposed, written about and such. The other missions are still classified. Nobody but them and me knows about em’, and it would probably wind my ass up in jail, at least, if I told the press everything I know. I won’t. I am still loyal to my country and proud of what I did
BAHNSEN: Wait a minute, then why are you writing about cocaine?
PERRY: I wouldn’t be talking about the cocaine if all this hadn’t already come out in other books. I just figured, if it’s all out there any ways, why shouldn’t a soldier who was there make a little something off it, you know? Plus, and Dave pointed this out to me, all the books were pretty one sided. None of them had anything good to say about what we did, and there was at least some good to it, even if it were only our intentions, you know? Though I gotta say, Dave would only write the book if he had his say, too, and he’s a mushy hearted liberal. What do you expect from a poet?
GILBERT: Bill, you were going to describe the flight into El Salvador?
PERRY: Yeah. Well, when they called me up, all they said was that a battalion of soldiers were trapped in enemy territory and needed guns and supplies.
BAHNSEN: You left home not knowing which war you were going into?
GILBERT: At any one time on this planet, America is fighting, or backing someone’s fight, just about everywhere, you know? They called Bill up to make this flight after Congress cut off the money for the Contra’s because of their nun-killing death squads. That’s the army that the operative was talking about when he called Bill, the Contra’s. The CIA had put this army of Contra’s together, and all of a sudden Congress wanted us to leave them at the mercy of the enemy? Reagan decided to just take the war covert, throw out the press and hide the whole thing behind a flood of disinformation and outright lies. Plausible denial was coined about then. Go on with the story, Bill.
PERRY: They told me that I would be flying out of Texas. I took my twin engine duster down, landed at this strip that was all out by itself in the dessert. They had planes already loaded and ready to go, six cargoes, beat up looking things covered in mud. We flew out in formation, following a Colombian pilot down. He had a guy from MI on his plane with him. The strip . . .
GILBERT: MI is Military Intelligence.
PERRY: Yea, that’s right. The runway was in a jungle, a strip cut into the trees. When we first got there, we had to circle until they removed this green camouflage netting. You couldn’t see the landing strip until they took that shit off. As they peeled it back, a thin line of brown mud appeared, and that’s where we put them down. There were soldiers all over, South Americans, and most of them started unloading the planes. I guess they were Contras. It ain’t the kind of situation where you can ask questions, you know? It only took em’ about twenty minutes to unload us. When we were empty, I thought we were ready to fly back, but this spook, or at least I think he was CIA, told me to wait. He got me a beer out of a cooler he had in his humvee. Nice guy. Maybe twenty minutes later, this transport truck pulls up all filled with burlap bags, and the soldiers start putting the bags in the planes. I wouldn’t have known what was in them, more than likely, if a soldier hadn’t dropped one off the truck. The bag broke open, split right in the middle all the way around and a white cloud shot up just covering this guy from head to toe. The others started laughing, then the guy who was all covered in white started acting like he was snorting the stuff off himself - though he wasn’t really. I was laughing, too, even though I couldn’t follow what they were saying. They cleaned up that shit. . . Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that ‘s’ word. Any way, they cleaned up that coke carefully, too, with a dust vac. When they were done loading the planes, we flew back to the same strip in Texas. I picked up my plane there and came home. When all this was happening, I didn’t know much about the Contra’s were, or whether the coke had been confiscated, or what. It was only years later, after people started writing about John Kerry’s senate investigations into this, that I understood what I had been a part of. For instance, I found out why the CIA called me in -- they were trying to cover, temporarily, for the loss of the Army pilots, which they eventually did, by replacing them with the coke cartel’s pilots. They were already using the Cartels planes and jungle airports, so it was a logical step.
GILBERT: Basically, the CIA made a deal with the Cartels to use their secret airline to fly guns into South America. In exchange, the Company let the cartel fill up the return flights with coke and land at their ranch in Texas, where they didn’t have to bother with little matters like customs, or the DEA.
BAHSEN: Your press release says that better than a dozen pilots were, and I quote, ‘murdered into silence.’ If you’re story is true, then why won’t the CIA come after you?
GILBERT: There’s the proof that you seem to need to know that we aren’t a couple of nuts, okay? We don’t think that the CIA is out to get us, all right?
Yes, I am from outer space...
Humans,
I have tried to be patient with you. I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I have tried to tell myself that you are unevolved, in need of thought-directions and compasses for your personality morality that are free of your silly resurrection myths. I have tried to tell myself that the breasts of young women pushing through those tight sleeveless shirts (that also show delicious looking belly buttons as well), was reason enough not to destroy this planet. Not to mention some of your better genetic products, like Michael Moore and Jimmy Carter and Johnny Cash... but now, what with woody allens fall into scummy creepdom (And that hurt me more than I can admit -- I hate judging art by the life of the artist--for god's sake, Ezra Pound was a nazi for awhile, but no one talks about the man who invented Hemingways style, by editing all verbs and descirption, as a nazi. But the people who lived in his time did, as we do with woody allen, who will be remembered better than we think of him right now, should this planet have had a future, which I have decided it won't).
I am now forced to accept that you elect this Shrub, or tree, or Bush, or whatever the evil boofs name happens to be this election round (senior and junior or an actorish puppet or one of their fanatical followers, they're all the same to me), I am going to have to allow the greenhouse effect to continue. I don't want to, but the belly buttons of young girls (not to mention my housemates magical body and all her sweet, sweet curves), are now not enough for me to ground all the jets, stop the space shuttle runs through that destroy up to ten percent of the ozone simply because america arrogantly refuses to stop using liquid fuel (something even russia did decades ago). (this is from a bill moyers special that was, inexplicably, only aired at 2am in the morning).
Soon, a ship will come down from the skies and my brethren will beam me up, telling me, "We are sorry you were left here among all these mental diseases.... we have the cure here. Now, you can return to a sane planet, where decisions are made for the good of the planet, not the good of the top 2%, or for some illogical stance arising from a pre-scientific cosmology. Not to mention, we have better weed, too." OF course, they will say this in a much, much cooler way.
Just sign this...
Just sign this.... One of a zillion zillion zillion disgusted aleins watching you near apes wallow in lies.
I have tried to be patient with you. I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I have tried to tell myself that you are unevolved, in need of thought-directions and compasses for your personality morality that are free of your silly resurrection myths. I have tried to tell myself that the breasts of young women pushing through those tight sleeveless shirts (that also show delicious looking belly buttons as well), was reason enough not to destroy this planet. Not to mention some of your better genetic products, like Michael Moore and Jimmy Carter and Johnny Cash... but now, what with woody allens fall into scummy creepdom (And that hurt me more than I can admit -- I hate judging art by the life of the artist--for god's sake, Ezra Pound was a nazi for awhile, but no one talks about the man who invented Hemingways style, by editing all verbs and descirption, as a nazi. But the people who lived in his time did, as we do with woody allen, who will be remembered better than we think of him right now, should this planet have had a future, which I have decided it won't).
I am now forced to accept that you elect this Shrub, or tree, or Bush, or whatever the evil boofs name happens to be this election round (senior and junior or an actorish puppet or one of their fanatical followers, they're all the same to me), I am going to have to allow the greenhouse effect to continue. I don't want to, but the belly buttons of young girls (not to mention my housemates magical body and all her sweet, sweet curves), are now not enough for me to ground all the jets, stop the space shuttle runs through that destroy up to ten percent of the ozone simply because america arrogantly refuses to stop using liquid fuel (something even russia did decades ago). (this is from a bill moyers special that was, inexplicably, only aired at 2am in the morning).
Soon, a ship will come down from the skies and my brethren will beam me up, telling me, "We are sorry you were left here among all these mental diseases.... we have the cure here. Now, you can return to a sane planet, where decisions are made for the good of the planet, not the good of the top 2%, or for some illogical stance arising from a pre-scientific cosmology. Not to mention, we have better weed, too." OF course, they will say this in a much, much cooler way.
Just sign this...
Just sign this.... One of a zillion zillion zillion disgusted aleins watching you near apes wallow in lies.
frankenstein is the most elitist novel that I have ever read.
In literary criticism classes, we used books with various novels in them that the back half was filled with how various types of critics viewed the story. No one agreed on anything. This is because academics have to publish or die, so the they look for the latest buzzword that has a nebulous definition (this is why post modern means something different everytime I hear it used... by the way, all it originally meant--though like any great thought everything does tend to fit within various paradigm--was that there is no longer a god around to give us all a set of meanings that we believe in. The moderns were about discovering new universal truths that could be applied to everyone; post modernism says that no one beleives that anything necessarily means the same thing. Again, this is why there were so many damn critical interpretations I had to learn in that literary criticism class, which was taught by one of the greatest minds I have ever kneeled before, Dr. Deville
(a dedicated teacher who taught up until two weeks before his imminent death, which he experienced a week into his retirement).
Dross is the word I zoned in on in Frankenstein. Specifically, where she describes the little girl that the frankenstein's adopt after finding her in a village living among what the fucking elitist shelley calls, 'the human dross."
By this Shelley meant that only the elite in society were 'really human.' Dross is waste, by the way. Her interpretation of the book, you may not know, is about how if you educate the lower classes, they will be monsters, with no place in their working world, and too ugly to be accepted by the upper, educated classes (in the book, the monster becomes educated and eloquent. The only way you will ever see the truth is if I make the film, I fear.... and that isn't going to happen anytime soon, though you never know what I will do--ask M., she
knows).
Knowing all this was the Marxist interpretation, I was quite amused to know my brother in law had changed his name to Llama Dross. He did this for reason I won't go into in here without his okay, but whatever his reason, this is one fucking funny, thoughtfully chosen name.
So, next time someone brings up frankenstein, you can say that it was a modernist story, because the rich were trying to impose their will on everyone, to the degree of stopping them from becoming literate (and if you think that is meaningless, you should read the 'Autobiography of Frederick Douglas,' who describes a slave mind becoming literate and open).
(a dedicated teacher who taught up until two weeks before his imminent death, which he experienced a week into his retirement).
Dross is the word I zoned in on in Frankenstein. Specifically, where she describes the little girl that the frankenstein's adopt after finding her in a village living among what the fucking elitist shelley calls, 'the human dross."
By this Shelley meant that only the elite in society were 'really human.' Dross is waste, by the way. Her interpretation of the book, you may not know, is about how if you educate the lower classes, they will be monsters, with no place in their working world, and too ugly to be accepted by the upper, educated classes (in the book, the monster becomes educated and eloquent. The only way you will ever see the truth is if I make the film, I fear.... and that isn't going to happen anytime soon, though you never know what I will do--ask M., she
knows).
Knowing all this was the Marxist interpretation, I was quite amused to know my brother in law had changed his name to Llama Dross. He did this for reason I won't go into in here without his okay, but whatever his reason, this is one fucking funny, thoughtfully chosen name.
So, next time someone brings up frankenstein, you can say that it was a modernist story, because the rich were trying to impose their will on everyone, to the degree of stopping them from becoming literate (and if you think that is meaningless, you should read the 'Autobiography of Frederick Douglas,' who describes a slave mind becoming literate and open).
WE ARE APES...
Apes, as we all know, are general led by alpha males. However, scientists have been studying a tribe of apes where all the aggressive males were killed off, after they caught tb while fighting over human garbage. This leadership vaccum was filled by a female, who then changed the tribe around into a more peaceful, sharing entity. Instead of the old brutal heirarchy, the tribe became more gentle, took better care of the babies, started sharing... they became woman run, matriarchial (as opposed to humans, who are primarily patriarchal (spelling?).
The significance here is that the apes culture changed, and the apes changed. This happens with humans, too, as we all know from looking through old photos or ourselves and seeing the hairstyles etc... that were slowly inserted into our minds by tv, friends, critics, etc... The apes changes show that culture and genes work together; our genes only determine 'possible' behaviors, but our culture decides which of these behaviors will manifest.
This is why I harp on and on about religion and why I believe that nation building is not just some choice we have -- it is our primary means of keeping our culture alive. And say what you will about american culture, but I think americans, judging by my thousands of conversations int he cab, are kind, concerned, and willing to fight if there is a cause. The problem is like Nader says, the democrats and republicans are the same, basically. None of them are going to give us national health care, or spend more on public schools, or continue the tradition of allowing more and more people to benefit from the freedom here -- such as gay marriages (the horror stories of people being kept from their 20 year companions funeral, kicked out of the house, losing their kids, etc... are unacceptible to anyone who thoughtfully looks at this issue without the homophobic taint that is also part of our culture -- did you know there was a time when gays were totally accepted, in all kinds of cultures all over the world -- from the native americans to europe? This is a cultural affect. Our closest living relatives, the Bonobo's, a matriarchial tribe that has orgies before eating so everyone is in the mood to share, simply fuck whoever is closest of whatever sex).
I know the human condition is a bit more complex than the apes, or at least seems to be (actually, the bonobo's are being wiped out by all the wars in the congo, and they do not do well at all in captavity -- they are approx. 99.7% the same as us on a genetically level -- so they will probably extinct soon). However, this is somewhat decieving. People think they change because of individual ideas, but no... we are like a huge organism that agrees to use words certain ways, which makes certain behaviors bad and praises other. This is something un--intuitive to us about seeing our behavior as part of something larger, but this has been known and used since time immemoriable to destroy other cultures and promote mindsets that fit into whatever particular government is in control (the Hitler youth come to mind, but also america, a few hundred years ago, when most southern whites believed that blacks were inferior).
What does all this mean? I think it means that Hillary Clinton should be president. Or maybe it just means I should go live with the Bonobo's? Oh, if only I could....
The significance here is that the apes culture changed, and the apes changed. This happens with humans, too, as we all know from looking through old photos or ourselves and seeing the hairstyles etc... that were slowly inserted into our minds by tv, friends, critics, etc... The apes changes show that culture and genes work together; our genes only determine 'possible' behaviors, but our culture decides which of these behaviors will manifest.
This is why I harp on and on about religion and why I believe that nation building is not just some choice we have -- it is our primary means of keeping our culture alive. And say what you will about american culture, but I think americans, judging by my thousands of conversations int he cab, are kind, concerned, and willing to fight if there is a cause. The problem is like Nader says, the democrats and republicans are the same, basically. None of them are going to give us national health care, or spend more on public schools, or continue the tradition of allowing more and more people to benefit from the freedom here -- such as gay marriages (the horror stories of people being kept from their 20 year companions funeral, kicked out of the house, losing their kids, etc... are unacceptible to anyone who thoughtfully looks at this issue without the homophobic taint that is also part of our culture -- did you know there was a time when gays were totally accepted, in all kinds of cultures all over the world -- from the native americans to europe? This is a cultural affect. Our closest living relatives, the Bonobo's, a matriarchial tribe that has orgies before eating so everyone is in the mood to share, simply fuck whoever is closest of whatever sex).
I know the human condition is a bit more complex than the apes, or at least seems to be (actually, the bonobo's are being wiped out by all the wars in the congo, and they do not do well at all in captavity -- they are approx. 99.7% the same as us on a genetically level -- so they will probably extinct soon). However, this is somewhat decieving. People think they change because of individual ideas, but no... we are like a huge organism that agrees to use words certain ways, which makes certain behaviors bad and praises other. This is something un--intuitive to us about seeing our behavior as part of something larger, but this has been known and used since time immemoriable to destroy other cultures and promote mindsets that fit into whatever particular government is in control (the Hitler youth come to mind, but also america, a few hundred years ago, when most southern whites believed that blacks were inferior).
What does all this mean? I think it means that Hillary Clinton should be president. Or maybe it just means I should go live with the Bonobo's? Oh, if only I could....
GOOD SHIT
You may notice I have begun using the word shit a lot. I do this because shit is something we can all agree on disliking (and if you don't, I don't want to know you anyways); it isn't like arab and jew and black and korean and cat or dog or sheep and lion. So, I think that the new pc way of cursing should be limited to shit. I mean, we all say fuck, but it isn't a bad word all the time....shit is. So, let's hear it for shit!
"For shits a jolly good fellow,
for shits a jolly good fellow,
for shits a jolly good fellow
which nobody can deny,
which...."
"For shits a jolly good fellow,
for shits a jolly good fellow,
for shits a jolly good fellow
which nobody can deny,
which...."
CHICAGO'S MAYOR IS A CROOK.. OR AT LEAST HE KNOWS A
HELL OF A LOT OF THEM.... ACCIDENTLY? And as we sleuths of the human geography know, there are few real accidents, and certainly, when a pattern is developed over years and years, the idea of accident is long dead and gone--mental garbage that only the young and ignorant and stupid believe.
People know the Mayor is corrupt and accept him as some kind of necessary evil. And he does his job exceptionally well sometimes. He does so by raising taxes that pay for the fraudulent practices his people are always up to -- like inflated no bid contracts for all these mafia connected people who Mayor Daly 'accidently' ends up doing business with all the time. And he is the funniest mayor I have ever seen, cracking excellent jokes -- like during the first invasion of Iraq, when he tried to get bush to invade chicago too, so we could get some of the money he was spending to stop the wars in our streets. It was so funny. He is also authentic. He can say what he means without worrying about offending anyone, because he is firmly in control -- virtually untouchable in an election.
This is a mayor whose father rose out of a street gang that basically took over city hall and ran the town. They controlled a vast political machine of unions and other mafia connected organizations -- not to mention, all the guys the mob can gather to political work, then end up getting plum jobs from where they then eventually end up in jail for taking bribes or whatever.
78 of Daly's co-horts have recently been busted and prosecuted by the FBI's Operation Silver Shovel, which taped lots of these fools taking bribes. I can't tell you how many times I saw Daly on tv saying that he 'had no idea this was going on.' His ignorance of such things, over and over, would be enough to get him out of office in a town less accepting of criminals. That is the root of why he is in office, too -- people here put up with him, talk about how he made the city so much safer (that was the FBI, actually, who came storming in one year and seemingly changed the streets forever, making them much cleaner and sans all the drug dealers on the corners -- I witnessed this as a cab driver, and won't never forget; made me an fbi fan).
People think because Daly is slightly or more criminal, he can cut through red tape, get things done. I'ver heard, over and over from friends and the backseat's taxis, voices citing this and that new sculpture or flower pot or whatever, and acting like an honest man could not have done the same.
Where do these urban myths come from? Accident? IS there a master propogandists pulling hidden strings? This probably is just a chance collision of myth and reality.
Daly's victims come in the form of 3.00 taxes on cigarettes and a buck something on gas -- poor taxes. If you are a big company who wants to make money here, Daly will actually give you money and not charge you taxes--they'll just tax the employees to death. THis is the only town I've ever lived in where the Democrats were as evil as the elephants... oh, well. The flowers are in bloom and a party awaits ahead...
To give Daly the benefit of the doubt, and play devils advocate with my own thinking, I did once end up being an honest man in a dishonest environment, when I drove cab, for about four years, for a mafia family. They even had the brother was a lawyer. I lived just a block from the garage, is why I took the job there. I had no idea about their background, but I learned soon enough -- when I got my first ticket in chicago and asked my bosses advice on how to take care of it, he told me the right guy to give fifty bucks to get the ticket erased. I later saw cops pulling up and taking bribes from them for I know not what?
I thought there was a good side of this when I got in an accident that I should have paid hundreds for, and these mob guys covered me. I was thankful until a couple of years later, I was having a conversation my boss and said something shitty about the mob, who had just taken over the cab union and were doing nothing (I went to one meeting and it was being in the Soprano's -- big goons talking in gangster voices actually ran the thing).
He responded by telling me that I should be thankful for them, because they covered my ass in the accident, by blaming it on someone else. Hearing he had made some poor guy pay for my mistake made me feel sick -- I didn't want someone else to take the hit for me. There is a real lesson in here somewhere, about how even the smallest crime creates a victim somewhere....
So Daly's really a ... Again, only time will bring the truth to light.
People know the Mayor is corrupt and accept him as some kind of necessary evil. And he does his job exceptionally well sometimes. He does so by raising taxes that pay for the fraudulent practices his people are always up to -- like inflated no bid contracts for all these mafia connected people who Mayor Daly 'accidently' ends up doing business with all the time. And he is the funniest mayor I have ever seen, cracking excellent jokes -- like during the first invasion of Iraq, when he tried to get bush to invade chicago too, so we could get some of the money he was spending to stop the wars in our streets. It was so funny. He is also authentic. He can say what he means without worrying about offending anyone, because he is firmly in control -- virtually untouchable in an election.
This is a mayor whose father rose out of a street gang that basically took over city hall and ran the town. They controlled a vast political machine of unions and other mafia connected organizations -- not to mention, all the guys the mob can gather to political work, then end up getting plum jobs from where they then eventually end up in jail for taking bribes or whatever.
78 of Daly's co-horts have recently been busted and prosecuted by the FBI's Operation Silver Shovel, which taped lots of these fools taking bribes. I can't tell you how many times I saw Daly on tv saying that he 'had no idea this was going on.' His ignorance of such things, over and over, would be enough to get him out of office in a town less accepting of criminals. That is the root of why he is in office, too -- people here put up with him, talk about how he made the city so much safer (that was the FBI, actually, who came storming in one year and seemingly changed the streets forever, making them much cleaner and sans all the drug dealers on the corners -- I witnessed this as a cab driver, and won't never forget; made me an fbi fan).
People think because Daly is slightly or more criminal, he can cut through red tape, get things done. I'ver heard, over and over from friends and the backseat's taxis, voices citing this and that new sculpture or flower pot or whatever, and acting like an honest man could not have done the same.
Where do these urban myths come from? Accident? IS there a master propogandists pulling hidden strings? This probably is just a chance collision of myth and reality.
Daly's victims come in the form of 3.00 taxes on cigarettes and a buck something on gas -- poor taxes. If you are a big company who wants to make money here, Daly will actually give you money and not charge you taxes--they'll just tax the employees to death. THis is the only town I've ever lived in where the Democrats were as evil as the elephants... oh, well. The flowers are in bloom and a party awaits ahead...
To give Daly the benefit of the doubt, and play devils advocate with my own thinking, I did once end up being an honest man in a dishonest environment, when I drove cab, for about four years, for a mafia family. They even had the brother was a lawyer. I lived just a block from the garage, is why I took the job there. I had no idea about their background, but I learned soon enough -- when I got my first ticket in chicago and asked my bosses advice on how to take care of it, he told me the right guy to give fifty bucks to get the ticket erased. I later saw cops pulling up and taking bribes from them for I know not what?
I thought there was a good side of this when I got in an accident that I should have paid hundreds for, and these mob guys covered me. I was thankful until a couple of years later, I was having a conversation my boss and said something shitty about the mob, who had just taken over the cab union and were doing nothing (I went to one meeting and it was being in the Soprano's -- big goons talking in gangster voices actually ran the thing).
He responded by telling me that I should be thankful for them, because they covered my ass in the accident, by blaming it on someone else. Hearing he had made some poor guy pay for my mistake made me feel sick -- I didn't want someone else to take the hit for me. There is a real lesson in here somewhere, about how even the smallest crime creates a victim somewhere....
So Daly's really a ... Again, only time will bring the truth to light.
HORNY VOLES
I am of course fascinated by what makes humans tick. A life long study, for sure, that could only be disrailed by digging in my heels somewhere and declaring that I have the truth. Well, I am not that dum, okay?
I once put together a bunch of quotes and pictures from old encyclopedias showing scientists and politicians making statements that were taking for the truth at the time, though now we know better. Anyone who reads of went to college knows that knowledge is forever being replaced, but still, since we are pattern makers, it is difficult for most people to see beyond their education. Noam Chomsky says there is no revolution because people are too tired when they get home after work, and I think this applies to the intellect as well -- there is no time for revolutionary thoughts in the usual life.
That is why no one seems too up in arms right now about this new study, which was done on two species of voles, one monogamous and nurturing with children, the other wild and polygamous, doing the old 'wham bam thank you mam." and leaving the little lady voles to raise the children. The monogamous voles even kissed and carressed their partner after sex, though the polygamous moles were all hit and run.
Scientitsts were able to isolate the genetic difference between the two, and then injected the 'free love' voles with the 'indentured love' voles genes. This was done by merely introducing a virus which caused a slight change.
The voles who were before all out for themselves, suddenly changed into nurturing family voles. Now, how and why this applies to humans is beyond the scope of my stupid little blog, but the implications on the theoritical level are vague enough for me to stick my head in and have a look around, at least.
It seems that this may transfer to humans, or I wouldn't be writing it. This means that the predatory males out there who think sex is only for fun, are actually missing something that family men have (or, you could look at it visa versa, but I prefer to think we are evolving toward more emotional connections, rather than less; I could be wrong, we could all be headed toward the emotionless stoicism of sociopaths).
I can see the prenupts of the future involving this virus to transfer monogamous genes. And what does this say about us? The future will have lots of evolving answers, but the implication seems clear -- some men simply are not 'cut out' to be monogamous, caring partners... John Wayne Gacy was our worst chicago serial killer --
I actually went down and hung out around the prison the night he was killed, heard the crowds scream in midieval triumph, the protestors standing in a cirlce praying around a candle. He obviously could have used this virus.
If any women read this, you should think long and hard about voles before going out with another jock/romeo.
I once put together a bunch of quotes and pictures from old encyclopedias showing scientists and politicians making statements that were taking for the truth at the time, though now we know better. Anyone who reads of went to college knows that knowledge is forever being replaced, but still, since we are pattern makers, it is difficult for most people to see beyond their education. Noam Chomsky says there is no revolution because people are too tired when they get home after work, and I think this applies to the intellect as well -- there is no time for revolutionary thoughts in the usual life.
That is why no one seems too up in arms right now about this new study, which was done on two species of voles, one monogamous and nurturing with children, the other wild and polygamous, doing the old 'wham bam thank you mam." and leaving the little lady voles to raise the children. The monogamous voles even kissed and carressed their partner after sex, though the polygamous moles were all hit and run.
Scientitsts were able to isolate the genetic difference between the two, and then injected the 'free love' voles with the 'indentured love' voles genes. This was done by merely introducing a virus which caused a slight change.
The voles who were before all out for themselves, suddenly changed into nurturing family voles. Now, how and why this applies to humans is beyond the scope of my stupid little blog, but the implications on the theoritical level are vague enough for me to stick my head in and have a look around, at least.
It seems that this may transfer to humans, or I wouldn't be writing it. This means that the predatory males out there who think sex is only for fun, are actually missing something that family men have (or, you could look at it visa versa, but I prefer to think we are evolving toward more emotional connections, rather than less; I could be wrong, we could all be headed toward the emotionless stoicism of sociopaths).
I can see the prenupts of the future involving this virus to transfer monogamous genes. And what does this say about us? The future will have lots of evolving answers, but the implication seems clear -- some men simply are not 'cut out' to be monogamous, caring partners... John Wayne Gacy was our worst chicago serial killer --
I actually went down and hung out around the prison the night he was killed, heard the crowds scream in midieval triumph, the protestors standing in a cirlce praying around a candle. He obviously could have used this virus.
If any women read this, you should think long and hard about voles before going out with another jock/romeo.
JACKOFFYOURSON DESERVES TO DIE... so there.
Does anyone believe this who isn't on that freaks payroll?
Michael jackoffyourson is at the top of my Psycho Killer's Hit List. I mean, if you are one of those people who is going to go out in a blaze of blood and glory and bullets, why waste your effort on a Mcdonalds? Go kill someone who deserves it. Like this child fucker. Your family and friends will find your dark deed easier to live with, and your prison art will be worth a lot more.
I'm not advocating that someone kill this freak, really.... no, actually I am (in a joking manner). If your predilections are more toward a slow, torture kill -- can you imagine how that freak can scream? With those vocal cords of his these could be some of the most blood curdling, pleasing screams you have ever heard. I'm just saying....
Michael jackoffyourson is at the top of my Psycho Killer's Hit List. I mean, if you are one of those people who is going to go out in a blaze of blood and glory and bullets, why waste your effort on a Mcdonalds? Go kill someone who deserves it. Like this child fucker. Your family and friends will find your dark deed easier to live with, and your prison art will be worth a lot more.
I'm not advocating that someone kill this freak, really.... no, actually I am (in a joking manner). If your predilections are more toward a slow, torture kill -- can you imagine how that freak can scream? With those vocal cords of his these could be some of the most blood curdling, pleasing screams you have ever heard. I'm just saying....
BITCHES AND BLING...
. . . are VERY, VERY, BAD WORDS!!! Picture me pointing right between your eyes and shaking my finger as I yell, "Bad words! Bad words! No! Bad human! Bad!"
Yes, these are bad words for the planet or your sister and, most importantly, of course, my dog. Bitches is one of those words with a lot of weight, and a lot of dark meanings to anyone who thinks in the least bit intellectually. To use this word demeans a lot of people, but like I said, much more importantly, it uses the name of the noble female dog, including my beloved siberian husky, Ruby Ann, as a curse!
I don't care what you humans say about each other, but now the animals are all intangled in your language games. Just because you want something to mean something, does not mean it does. Animals are not 'pets' or 'stupid' or deserving nothing beyond a bowl and a chain and a cage.
So, stop using this word bitch to mean anything beyond a female dog or I will hunt down every last one of you and kill you like a fucking fly... should I find the time, of course.
I mean, what does bitch mean? Since your writer is too lazy to get a dictionary out, I will tell you how this word is 'used', which is more important than the page of some fucking book anyways (according to wittgenstein, sort of).
1) someone who is being repeatedly raped in prison (is that really how you should refer to a woman? If you happen to think so, go kill yourself with a large rock.)
2) any woman referred to by a rapper and their problem adding adeherents.
((( I have had to come back awhile after writing this, because I should add that this is not everyone who listens to rap... as should be painfully obvious, but seems to be so only to me, judging by the letters reacting to this stupid peice of shit of an entry))).
3) the mothers and sisters and teachers of suburban white 10 year olds who listen to rap and get all ghettoedout.
4) the mothers and sisters and teachers of suburban black 10 year olds who listen to rap and get all ghettoedout.
I know the ghetto, alright? There is not a damn thing that is cool about it -- even the weed there sucks.
This is politically correctness that I am explaining. . . A good movement. You probably slam it. Do you know why? I bet you don't. It took me a lot of effort and classes to get this stuff and you are probably way too fucking stoned or lazy to do something like that.... that's fine, mind you -- you can just read me.
Bling is another word that hides a lot. Bling means anything that makes you look like a material success; a signifier saying to most that you are ostentatious and naive, is taken by some minds to be good. Again, I have to go back to some rappers, because they are an easy target and I'm feeling lazy, and say that their diamonds hide selling crack, moving whores, breaking into my car, etc... on some fingers.
The fingers of the millions of criminals who listen to rap, as opposed to the hundreds who get rich that way. I don't want the criminals to think they need diamond rings to look cool. I want them to feel okay about being poor. After all, it isn't a fucking sin, and it frees you from a lot of the supidity of trying to consume as much of the earth as possible before the inevitable collapse.
Yes, these are bad words for the planet or your sister and, most importantly, of course, my dog. Bitches is one of those words with a lot of weight, and a lot of dark meanings to anyone who thinks in the least bit intellectually. To use this word demeans a lot of people, but like I said, much more importantly, it uses the name of the noble female dog, including my beloved siberian husky, Ruby Ann, as a curse!
I don't care what you humans say about each other, but now the animals are all intangled in your language games. Just because you want something to mean something, does not mean it does. Animals are not 'pets' or 'stupid' or deserving nothing beyond a bowl and a chain and a cage.
So, stop using this word bitch to mean anything beyond a female dog or I will hunt down every last one of you and kill you like a fucking fly... should I find the time, of course.
I mean, what does bitch mean? Since your writer is too lazy to get a dictionary out, I will tell you how this word is 'used', which is more important than the page of some fucking book anyways (according to wittgenstein, sort of).
1) someone who is being repeatedly raped in prison (is that really how you should refer to a woman? If you happen to think so, go kill yourself with a large rock.)
2) any woman referred to by a rapper and their problem adding adeherents.
((( I have had to come back awhile after writing this, because I should add that this is not everyone who listens to rap... as should be painfully obvious, but seems to be so only to me, judging by the letters reacting to this stupid peice of shit of an entry))).
3) the mothers and sisters and teachers of suburban white 10 year olds who listen to rap and get all ghettoedout.
4) the mothers and sisters and teachers of suburban black 10 year olds who listen to rap and get all ghettoedout.
I know the ghetto, alright? There is not a damn thing that is cool about it -- even the weed there sucks.
This is politically correctness that I am explaining. . . A good movement. You probably slam it. Do you know why? I bet you don't. It took me a lot of effort and classes to get this stuff and you are probably way too fucking stoned or lazy to do something like that.... that's fine, mind you -- you can just read me.
Bling is another word that hides a lot. Bling means anything that makes you look like a material success; a signifier saying to most that you are ostentatious and naive, is taken by some minds to be good. Again, I have to go back to some rappers, because they are an easy target and I'm feeling lazy, and say that their diamonds hide selling crack, moving whores, breaking into my car, etc... on some fingers.
The fingers of the millions of criminals who listen to rap, as opposed to the hundreds who get rich that way. I don't want the criminals to think they need diamond rings to look cool. I want them to feel okay about being poor. After all, it isn't a fucking sin, and it frees you from a lot of the supidity of trying to consume as much of the earth as possible before the inevitable collapse.
WHAT IF IT WAS YOU????? OR MERCENARIES, SMURFINARIES
You are an ex navy seal, trained into a deadly machine that was sent out to roam the african plains slaughtering armies of drugged kiddy soldiers.
You know your training has kept you alive through some deep shit. Civilian life is boring and you never make the kind of money you wish you had. This war in Iraq breaks out, and you know they are going to bring in all kinds of mercenaries and shit to protect the economic infrastructure of the fledgling governement.
You call someone you know at the CIA, or the NSA, or the NAVy Intelligence, or just plain old Military Intelligence.... They tell you that the 25 million dollar bounty is one hell of a nut, and speculate that the lucky bounty hunter who catches that camel shit breath is going to buy an island and live THE FUCKING HELL OF HIS LIFE. Or something else that pushes your buttons.You go to Iraq. Maybe spend your own buck on the weapons and flight --"An investment," You tell your girlfreind.
You now have to get information from a population that can't be seen talking to you and expect to live out the month. Even the ones who agree with your politics are dramatically more concerned with staying alive at the moment.
You are tough, beyond giving a shit if an enemy cries out. You are all about the mission. Your focus is to find the mo-fo's who bombed the trade tower and were conspiring right now to blow you and yours ass right off this little rock in space. You do not feel the pain that you inflict on an enemy. They are a tool to complete the mission, no more a cause of mercy than his a wrench.
You have been trained, by the government that you faced death for, to torture. You have been told to get thsi information by any means -- and that came straight from the fucking president. He signed a paper telling you," Go ahead and cut up those sand niggers."
You spend a few days watching the streets, seeing if you can spot someone from the other side. When you start thinking that doesn't work, you decide to grab some of them arabs and make them talk. IF you find the right one, you will get 5, 10, maybe 25 million... you can be elmer fudd and buy a mansion and a yacht. A cab driver seems like someone who knows who is who.
You and your men wave him down, have the cabbie drive you right to the safe house -- his prison. You tie his ankles with scratchy rope and hang the target upside down from hooks that you put up in the ceiling.
He tells you about some guy who you know the cia will want, you shoot your way into a compound, take out an old man and a couple kid-soldiers. You know the target by a picture the military passed out to all the 'bounty hunters' who had come to iraq. You turn him over to some marines and collect a clean and clear sixty grand. You and your me n celebrate, drink to how totally fucking rich you are going to be.
Now, you can't let the cab driver go, or someone is going to talk to him from some goddamn newspaper or whatever the hell...copywrite john scott ridgway 2004
You know your training has kept you alive through some deep shit. Civilian life is boring and you never make the kind of money you wish you had. This war in Iraq breaks out, and you know they are going to bring in all kinds of mercenaries and shit to protect the economic infrastructure of the fledgling governement.
You call someone you know at the CIA, or the NSA, or the NAVy Intelligence, or just plain old Military Intelligence.... They tell you that the 25 million dollar bounty is one hell of a nut, and speculate that the lucky bounty hunter who catches that camel shit breath is going to buy an island and live THE FUCKING HELL OF HIS LIFE. Or something else that pushes your buttons.You go to Iraq. Maybe spend your own buck on the weapons and flight --"An investment," You tell your girlfreind.
You now have to get information from a population that can't be seen talking to you and expect to live out the month. Even the ones who agree with your politics are dramatically more concerned with staying alive at the moment.
You are tough, beyond giving a shit if an enemy cries out. You are all about the mission. Your focus is to find the mo-fo's who bombed the trade tower and were conspiring right now to blow you and yours ass right off this little rock in space. You do not feel the pain that you inflict on an enemy. They are a tool to complete the mission, no more a cause of mercy than his a wrench.
You have been trained, by the government that you faced death for, to torture. You have been told to get thsi information by any means -- and that came straight from the fucking president. He signed a paper telling you," Go ahead and cut up those sand niggers."
You spend a few days watching the streets, seeing if you can spot someone from the other side. When you start thinking that doesn't work, you decide to grab some of them arabs and make them talk. IF you find the right one, you will get 5, 10, maybe 25 million... you can be elmer fudd and buy a mansion and a yacht. A cab driver seems like someone who knows who is who.
You and your men wave him down, have the cabbie drive you right to the safe house -- his prison. You tie his ankles with scratchy rope and hang the target upside down from hooks that you put up in the ceiling.
He tells you about some guy who you know the cia will want, you shoot your way into a compound, take out an old man and a couple kid-soldiers. You know the target by a picture the military passed out to all the 'bounty hunters' who had come to iraq. You turn him over to some marines and collect a clean and clear sixty grand. You and your me n celebrate, drink to how totally fucking rich you are going to be.
Now, you can't let the cab driver go, or someone is going to talk to him from some goddamn newspaper or whatever the hell...copywrite john scott ridgway 2004
THE USE OF DISPOSABLE BUT MONKEYS MUST BE STOPPED... MAYBE?
The plight of disposable Butt monkeys should be a call to arms for anyone who likes animals. Why I am the only one who seems to be objecting to this trend? Could larger forces be at work? Surely, but that is not my concern. What is my concern is my solemn vow to help you elf shits make sound purchases on anal related products.
Unless you have been living in a cave on pcp for the last two years, you have heard of or seen or read about the highly successful commercials with one of those rich old looking actor dudes from law and order asking a group of gorgeous looking rich people, "Isn't it time someone else wiped your ass?"
The scene then switches to a friendly, perfumed, luxuriouslyconditioned but monkey, shown switching through the various pastel colors that they come in, sliding up and down on a fake plastic butt, and then drowning itself in the bidet and flushing itself down with it's last breath. The voice over sounds cognac smooth and cigar rough, has the weight of years and grandparents. "The latest trend among the trendy wealthy following trends? Using specially trained disposable but monkeys, so they can have their pampered bums safely wiped without having to touch their own shit, like a peasent. These monkeys clean your rectum until it actually shines. And lord knows, in your hectic, fast paced day, you can use the smile you'll get when your but monkey's flush themselves down and drown in an altogether comical manner."
The camera then shows a boardroom with all the employees sitting around a table introducing each other. One of the employees has shit all over his hand and everyone is disgusted as they shake with him and get feces all over themselves. Finally, this shitty hands guy tries to get the boss to slap palms, but the boss, who is portrayed as a bright leader, refuses the shitty hand and says, " If you are still wiping your own ass, don't shake my hand.... in fact, get the hell out of here, you are fired." Then all the other employees pull boxes of but monkeys out of their pockets and start laughing ... and the boss, who has remained serious during the whole commercial, takes out his own box of but monkeys and joins in the laughter, too. This is very effective advertising, there is no denying that.
I mean, I am criticizing them now, but when I first saw the commercial, I too wanted to order some but monkeys. I was impressed with all the colors they came in, and they are cute. Like everyone, I know that the present method of wiping off our bums with dry paper is hardly sufficient, and as a result, diseases are spread... I too hope that one-day science will come up with something like but monkeys, but this is not the one. No, this is not the savior all our asses are practically calling for, though I have to admit, the commercial certainly makes them look like they are, and the special holiday edition but monkeys in Santa and elf outfits are pretty damn cool looking, I know, I know...Now, you will probably call me a crazy protestor for taking this stance. I 'm not, though. I mean, if I came across monkey meat at the supermarket, I'd take it home and deep-fry a few of their hands, or however you eat them.... The but monkey craze, however, involves a lot more jading of the mind than I have. I mean, it's one thing to buy a dead, nicely packaged monkey paw... but once you've seen them all alive and acting all friendly, how can you then deal with the thought that their life has been reduced, through conditioning, to the point that these simians think their whole existence should be spent being the perfect employee, even if it does involve having one short, shitty life?
Okay, maybe I am going out on a limb here for coming out against but monkeys. I know the trend is too big for me to ever have any effect on ... and, you know, I might just be missing something? They do have one that is a shade of red that would great in our bathroom. And they do save the trees, like the commercial said, so they are like half eco-friendly, and half evil. . . I guess they come out of the box all friendly and smelling of nice colognes that are supposed to be, according to the commercial, 'Stronger than your most powerful blast of gas.' You know what? I guess I should try one before I write anything else. I am always doing that you know, having an opinion on things that are based on how I think and what I know, rather than any actual experience. I think I'm going to get the one done up like Rudolph, with the nose painted all red and the little plush, absorbent horns?
NOTE FROM J, PAIN.... I laughed over this one as I wrote. Yes, laughed maniacally I did, then I hopped around the apartment naked, trying to pee on the startled, running and dodging cats, and the next thing that I knew I was running through the halls of our apt building with my freed weeny a wagging, screaming at the top of my lungs, 'Chaw! Chaw! Chaw!' over and over again. My Barton Fink-ish moment of celebrating the successful birth of the butt monkey's died when M. decided that she had to once more get out that damn tranquilizer gun... While I was immobile though still awake and able to feel pain, she put a bar of lavender soap in one of my few tube socks and beat my stomach and thighs relentleesly... I feared I was going to die, believed I had only one chance of getting better, so when my lips could move again, I began mouthing, "Boo boo kisses, boo boo kisses?" Like Kit Carson used to tell the tin horns after regaling them with a tale of being chased by hundreds of Indians that ended with him stranded in a tree, ". . . and then . . . I died."
Unless you have been living in a cave on pcp for the last two years, you have heard of or seen or read about the highly successful commercials with one of those rich old looking actor dudes from law and order asking a group of gorgeous looking rich people, "Isn't it time someone else wiped your ass?"
The scene then switches to a friendly, perfumed, luxuriouslyconditioned but monkey, shown switching through the various pastel colors that they come in, sliding up and down on a fake plastic butt, and then drowning itself in the bidet and flushing itself down with it's last breath. The voice over sounds cognac smooth and cigar rough, has the weight of years and grandparents. "The latest trend among the trendy wealthy following trends? Using specially trained disposable but monkeys, so they can have their pampered bums safely wiped without having to touch their own shit, like a peasent. These monkeys clean your rectum until it actually shines. And lord knows, in your hectic, fast paced day, you can use the smile you'll get when your but monkey's flush themselves down and drown in an altogether comical manner."
The camera then shows a boardroom with all the employees sitting around a table introducing each other. One of the employees has shit all over his hand and everyone is disgusted as they shake with him and get feces all over themselves. Finally, this shitty hands guy tries to get the boss to slap palms, but the boss, who is portrayed as a bright leader, refuses the shitty hand and says, " If you are still wiping your own ass, don't shake my hand.... in fact, get the hell out of here, you are fired." Then all the other employees pull boxes of but monkeys out of their pockets and start laughing ... and the boss, who has remained serious during the whole commercial, takes out his own box of but monkeys and joins in the laughter, too. This is very effective advertising, there is no denying that.
I mean, I am criticizing them now, but when I first saw the commercial, I too wanted to order some but monkeys. I was impressed with all the colors they came in, and they are cute. Like everyone, I know that the present method of wiping off our bums with dry paper is hardly sufficient, and as a result, diseases are spread... I too hope that one-day science will come up with something like but monkeys, but this is not the one. No, this is not the savior all our asses are practically calling for, though I have to admit, the commercial certainly makes them look like they are, and the special holiday edition but monkeys in Santa and elf outfits are pretty damn cool looking, I know, I know...Now, you will probably call me a crazy protestor for taking this stance. I 'm not, though. I mean, if I came across monkey meat at the supermarket, I'd take it home and deep-fry a few of their hands, or however you eat them.... The but monkey craze, however, involves a lot more jading of the mind than I have. I mean, it's one thing to buy a dead, nicely packaged monkey paw... but once you've seen them all alive and acting all friendly, how can you then deal with the thought that their life has been reduced, through conditioning, to the point that these simians think their whole existence should be spent being the perfect employee, even if it does involve having one short, shitty life?
Okay, maybe I am going out on a limb here for coming out against but monkeys. I know the trend is too big for me to ever have any effect on ... and, you know, I might just be missing something? They do have one that is a shade of red that would great in our bathroom. And they do save the trees, like the commercial said, so they are like half eco-friendly, and half evil. . . I guess they come out of the box all friendly and smelling of nice colognes that are supposed to be, according to the commercial, 'Stronger than your most powerful blast of gas.' You know what? I guess I should try one before I write anything else. I am always doing that you know, having an opinion on things that are based on how I think and what I know, rather than any actual experience. I think I'm going to get the one done up like Rudolph, with the nose painted all red and the little plush, absorbent horns?
NOTE FROM J, PAIN.... I laughed over this one as I wrote. Yes, laughed maniacally I did, then I hopped around the apartment naked, trying to pee on the startled, running and dodging cats, and the next thing that I knew I was running through the halls of our apt building with my freed weeny a wagging, screaming at the top of my lungs, 'Chaw! Chaw! Chaw!' over and over again. My Barton Fink-ish moment of celebrating the successful birth of the butt monkey's died when M. decided that she had to once more get out that damn tranquilizer gun... While I was immobile though still awake and able to feel pain, she put a bar of lavender soap in one of my few tube socks and beat my stomach and thighs relentleesly... I feared I was going to die, believed I had only one chance of getting better, so when my lips could move again, I began mouthing, "Boo boo kisses, boo boo kisses?" Like Kit Carson used to tell the tin horns after regaling them with a tale of being chased by hundreds of Indians that ended with him stranded in a tree, ". . . and then . . . I died."
1400 Dead Soldiers...
I just heard on the news that over 1400 soldiers have died in Iraq since america invaded. This figure does not include all the civilians killed on both sides. The horror, the horror... as Joseph Conrad wrote in the novella, The Heart Of Darkness.
I had coffee with an ex marine last night, a brilliant guy named Talib Morgan, who writes and raps. He just missed going to Iraq. Listening to him talk last night, I couldn't help but think what a waste it would have been if someone like him had been killed. He is a tall, handsome black guy with dreads. I don't use the word brilliant very often, but this cat deserves the monicor. Our conversation went all over the place: diasporas, colonialism, the crusades, numerous writers and philosophers, a lot of obscure stuff about christianity . . . For a guy who hasn't had much college, he has done a remarkable job of educating himself.
He has performed twice at my show. Once with a buddy, who did music while Talib did improvisational poetry. He was incredible. They played for the entire week before the fucking election that kept Bush in power. I was like their only fan, going down everyday to listen to them, and then inviting them to be the showcase at my show on friday. The guy who works at the cafe, Stan, couldn't stand thier music. It was very different, a clash of sounds; they were trying to show the horror of the world, and make a strong political statement, and the discordant clash of sounds produced by their synthesizer, saxophone, and god only knows what else was transcendent. Talib's words were incredible. He has sent me a couple of his rap songs, which read like dense, very deep poetry.
I'll ask him if I can put one of them on the site.
I wish I could do something to make people like Talib survive the war and become warriors in The Good Fight. Talib and I both consider ourselves at war with the dark forces trying to manipulate our culture, which is why we hit it off so well. Well, that and we both could see that the other was an intellectual seeker.
Running the literary reading, the elves attic, has put me in touch with some incredible people. All writers should do something like this, or make themselves a regular at readings. It really helps me in other ways too, especially with the comedy... hearing people laugh and gaffaw at my work opened a new world for me./
I had coffee with an ex marine last night, a brilliant guy named Talib Morgan, who writes and raps. He just missed going to Iraq. Listening to him talk last night, I couldn't help but think what a waste it would have been if someone like him had been killed. He is a tall, handsome black guy with dreads. I don't use the word brilliant very often, but this cat deserves the monicor. Our conversation went all over the place: diasporas, colonialism, the crusades, numerous writers and philosophers, a lot of obscure stuff about christianity . . . For a guy who hasn't had much college, he has done a remarkable job of educating himself.
He has performed twice at my show. Once with a buddy, who did music while Talib did improvisational poetry. He was incredible. They played for the entire week before the fucking election that kept Bush in power. I was like their only fan, going down everyday to listen to them, and then inviting them to be the showcase at my show on friday. The guy who works at the cafe, Stan, couldn't stand thier music. It was very different, a clash of sounds; they were trying to show the horror of the world, and make a strong political statement, and the discordant clash of sounds produced by their synthesizer, saxophone, and god only knows what else was transcendent. Talib's words were incredible. He has sent me a couple of his rap songs, which read like dense, very deep poetry.
I'll ask him if I can put one of them on the site.
I wish I could do something to make people like Talib survive the war and become warriors in The Good Fight. Talib and I both consider ourselves at war with the dark forces trying to manipulate our culture, which is why we hit it off so well. Well, that and we both could see that the other was an intellectual seeker.
Running the literary reading, the elves attic, has put me in touch with some incredible people. All writers should do something like this, or make themselves a regular at readings. It really helps me in other ways too, especially with the comedy... hearing people laugh and gaffaw at my work opened a new world for me./
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