Saturday, May 19, 2018


A Date With Gina

Equality is a many splendored ideal.   It has a nice ring to it, as might the  Liberty Bell.  The bell, last I heard, has one big crack in it.  Egalitarianism has a shitload of smaller ones.

  Among cracked liberties, equality is sometimes seen as equal status granted people who are incompetent, to the annoyance of people who  know what they're doing and can find their ass in the dark.  At least in the area of invention, few people are equal to Edison or Tesla.  Both Prince and Hendrix played guitar a great deal better than I do.  What if Jonas Salk's vaccine had been passed over for reasons of affirmative action? 

Forced equality can have a stunting effect on progress.   Great leaders aren't selected like cans of Campbell's soup.  Equality means equally dim.   People, through their rosy hipster glasses, may view it as a good thing that opportunities are granted to poor hopeful jerks.   And it can, in a whole other frame, mean that men and women are  about equally perverse and despicable.  I'm dreaming of Gina Haspel.

She's probably the new head of the C.I.A., soon enough the lass will get a bouquet of roses,  a gold diamond studded cattle prod, and a tiara.  Here she comes walking the runway, blowing kisses to tyrants and sadists everywhere.  Wealthy, infuriating ones.  She has a face like any of many black widows on Forensic Files.  If she wasn't committed to a lucrative, fulfilling career in 'rendering,' torture, mind fucking and Christ knows what fucking else, she would  be poisoning her eighth or ninth spouse by now to collect the insurance.  She's a creep.  A sadist.  Men are known to be sadistic criminal scumbags.  Lesser known, yet painfully true, women can be filthy perverts, too.  I wish that didn't rhyme. 

It's been policy here for the last I don't know how long to not get too fucking upset about all the disturbing political crap that is going on.  I'm not.   It helps, in a pestilential little way, to know that men and women have achieved equal status.  Equally dreadful. I want to air my theory that Gina was appointed expressly to scare the living shit out of potential terrorists.  Trump made a televised speech insisting that, contrary to popular humanism, torture works great for getting info and or squelching enemy activities.  Who the fuck knows, our new CIA personage may scare school kids out of doing their little mass homicides.  The new appointment may even be a first step to dismantling the spy organization.   She's a scorpion.   She might kill all her bunk mates.  This whole fucking thing might be fun.  But on the return trip to reason, this is some scary shit.   She's a sadist.








Saturday, March 31, 2018

New Blog Feature: A Little Common Sense With Bruce

I've given the matter a lot of thought, and I have the solution to gun violence in public schools.  As many  manic Appalachian folk have shared with me,  the truth is so simple no one thought of it before.  Sports.   The javelin.   An often under-rated field sport.  When was the last time you got horny over a really stacked javelin thrower?   That's so wrong.   Javelin throwing is a graceful sport, and for some reason I feel as though it is the activity of the hour.  The epidemic of school shootings.

 A lot of inner city schools don't even have track and field sports.  They're not insured against human imperfection.  So troubling.  I propose public schools everywhere revitalize the sport, and stock all class rooms, like trout in a cement pond, with javelins which can be thrown at school shooters.  Some nut case comes in the room with an AK, everyone grabs a spear and goes to work.  Hall monitors could get in formation and say, "Halt, who goes there."  This could really raise a lot of positive school spirit.

Shooters can  be teamed up on by school kids wielding modified sports harpoons in a spectrum of bright candy colors, much like those lovely rifles athletes shoot during winter Olympics skiing rituals.  Kids can be encouraged to charge in like Zulus and spear the assailant to death.  And holy jeepers, nothing works better than a common ordinary stick when you need to disarm an asshole with a gun or knife.   The SOBs have been known to work wonders.   Bashing people over the head with sticks has been carried off successfully many times, many places.   It makes me gag the way people are immune to the obvious.  

And never forget, football is a military sport.   That's all for A Little Common Sense With Bruce.







Monday, March 26, 2018


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Sunday, March 25, 2018

Readers, bloggerites, I am obliged to divulge that I have been having Elvis sightings, right here, my place, my space.    The last one happened three o'clock this morning, I had dined earlier on twelve fried peanut butter, bacon and banana sandwiches with extra Crisco, I awoke from slumber flatulent, and as fragrant molecules permeated the bedding, Elvis transfigured his corpulence from out of the texturized drop ceiling over head. It was a message from the Great Beyond.  "Ya'all quit whining like a hound dog, Bruce.  You just hush your mouth and compose frivolous entertainment features, like your doggone Fashion Report you do on facebook.   And shut the fuck up about politics."

Right on, Elvis Presley.   Things are so urgently fucked up here on Earth that he transported his flabby butt all the way back here to inform that people are giving themselves and everyone else a pain in the ass.  Political activism ain't nothing but a hound dog these days.  Cryin' all the time.  

Right before he left the building, sparkling  off in his powder blue dream-mobile, he said a few parting words.  "Goods and services.  Produce the motherfuckers.  It's more ethical than protesting shit you can't find your ass the long way around in."   

You can see why I have to share this crap with everyone.  It came from Elvis.  He means it.  Quit obstructing and get to constructing things.  Widgets.  Invest in a Quick Lube fanchise.  You will do well.


Saturday, January 20, 2018

All poets should allude to old situation comedies.



Abstaining


I will never vote again
till the Martians take over and then
I will choose the buffoon  who is prettiest
wear slogans for the goon that is fittest
for the job of reigning has-been

Not the type to use force
nor am I a work horse
it leaves me the need to meditate
to claim ability to levitate
to josh with the locals, of course

I will no longer endorse
anything more assuming than a horse
I will watch old reruns, of course
I'll watch Mr. Ed till the end

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Rhyming All Over the Place!

 Talking My Situation Rag
thrumming a tune in the mauve lagoon
bubbles forming nipples, taking air
zither with slide whistle
imported from Saskatoon
comes up with pelts and hair

raucous party below will be ending soon
been talk of liberation gone slow
chartreuse balloons rising from the party tunes
dancing with dance hall octoroons

friends and relations grown immune
to sun and sky and moon
living it up below
one minute before terminal noon