The Great Poet Kill Off

 

Check your television page and watch a few hours of Wagon Train.   It's a cowboy western series from the beat era.   Post jazz-age cattle drives and mass migrations.  Very different attitudes among people.  On the television show, as compared to people now.    Yet people were always missing a few spokes.  Troubled.  Dealing with conflict that was either carried in, or that attacked from behind a bush.    In so many ways, people are a danger to themselves and others.    There were no therapists on Wagon Train.   Only conflict, resolution, and attractive cow personage.    Let's aspire like rattle snakes under a flat rock beside a cactus.

I'm making an innocent proposal.  The federal government should kill 98 percent of all people who claim to be a poet.     The surviving 2 percent can be absorbed into institutions, whatever type they belong in.  Universities.  Jails.   State hospitals.   Free nymphomaniac therapists.  An audience on demand when you need to recite your latest work of genius.   An orgy.   It would be great.   The end.

Rant

 

'Neutrality' is a nice ripe weasel word for clamming up about politics.   If I said I was a disinterested party with regard to fucking near anything, it means no prejudice in the matter, supposedly.   Being unable to provide assistance isn't all but is some of a basis for docile, smiling jocular isolationism.  It might be another matter in cases of people who have authority or power with which to take action.  It would be sweet about now to specify what action, but I'm too far removed from the Land Of OZ  to comment on the poppy fields this year.  I feel as if I've retired from discussion on world, national and local politics.  The latter thing, though, gate-crashes into idle chat at the bus stop sometimes.   No worries.   I'm Irrelevant.

My Great Big Slant On World Affairs

I'm still keeping my trap shut as much as possible about the subject of politics.   Speaking only for silly little old me, it seems social politics is taking its course independent of what pedestrians do.  Does this mean wander around with one's thumb up...no, no, no.   Opinions can be rendered in itsy bitsy sound bites, obscured in loud throbbing dance music.   No one will give a shit what is intended.   They will be dancing.

I keep forgetting to blow smoke about my theories pertaining to entertainment.  To encapsulate, sort of, it's highly influential.  People are more responsive to music, television and film than they are to pure reason.  The greatest service people may provide one another could fun, fun, fun.   Jokes.  Singing.   Skits.   Dancing, for fuck sake.    Q:  What goes through a billionaire's mind when his submersible implodes?   A:  Plankton.