Wild Bill Hickok was an abolitionist.  John Brown, also.   The latter may be the harder of the two to see as a model of humanity.  Very recently, people engaged in progressive politics have been outspoken about the advancement of African American People.   Much as I know, from the evening news, attitudes in the round differ from those of Brown and Hickok.   Also, from cold war era Democratic liberals that were engaged in civil rights.  Abraham Lincoln was an abolitionist, and his bag was disparate from modern Gucci and Louis Vuitton baggage.    

The unpleasantness on college campuses.   New ideas?   New methods?  Masses of people in identical mind sets, calling for harm to persons in  the Family of Man?   It's a repeat performance.  Maybe young people feel cheated out of the past.  They didn't get to hang with Che Guavera.  Or protest the Vietnam War, like their grandfolks did.   Those people were exiting.   No one under age seventy five used LSD made by Sandoz!  Our youth deserves a chance to make up for all those things they can't do or have now.  I understand.  When I was kid I used to watch the television show Room 222, and could totally relate to Pete Dixon.   Haven't I done enough to help?

Ideas.   Methods.   An ad hoc committee is formed, it works it's agenda, and disperses when results say, 'enough.'   Thanks for reading.

Tone Poem: Why Are We Dookie?

 Marginalized people fill the columns and talk shows like mosquitos on a humid dog day.

And no one drops a grande mal dookie.   The great divide:  A-list.........B-list.   Matters.  Doesn't matter.

And the B-list stays sick desperate

To get rich and liked

Poor and dowdy

poem reading with fretless electric bass

 

Indications the Westview Plaza  is in decline:  in 1998 you could still buy a shotgun at Kmart. It closed, and now the space is a self storage unit brokerage.   The 2nd amendment has been in a slip and fall case for a while now.   Residency changed from fixed to variable.  Belongings travel space and time to their newest sheet steel sugar shack.  

Coffee shops were removed from Kmart stores,  blue light specials wandered back to an origin, 

Then they stopped selling guns.  The Wild West sacheted backward as civilization changed for the worse.  Managerial science, practiced in Kmarts everywhere, gave its tie clips and cufflinks to the  Salvation Army.   

I shopped there with my heart.  Clearance sales eased my troubled mind.     I felt one self storage unit safer owning a shotgun.  Home invasions were getting to be a bore.  Still are.  More so.  The decline of the west is enervating.  Live well and prosper.

 Greetings.  I hope some day to be a close up in Cecil B DeMille's urn.   Chillax, bro'.  Kidding.  Did you ever want to be a member of an important person's entourage?  It's fessing up to being lower on the B list than Leon Trotsky, but it's better to  be seen with a famous person than to be seen with an unattractive pauper.  Being seen chatting with Leon, could, if happened,  be bad for a person's social standing.  

Okay.  I'm  a rut.    Warpage in the wagon wheels.  Goes with getting old.   The goal post widens across the field of vision.   The illusory peace pipe circles a game full of native spirits.    There remains infinite possibility of gratification.   Where success was formerly a word, pleasure hop-skipped-jumped into primacy.    Necessity:  secundo     Meaning:  tertiary.    I'm blithering.  Thanks for your patience.

 I'm a crank, but you already know that.  I've been forthcoming.  People who put their minds into description can be a pain in the ass.   Ask the Mob.  But that's not what I'm carping about.

There is a group that's been convening downtown for years running.  They have a PA system, a flip chart, and tables stacked with supporting paper non-valentines.   There is public address machine preaching, and the premise is:  Modern Jews are fake, some cheesy, crummy ethnic group from Asshole, Europe, and the real Jews are Black.  They use the flip chart to support their claim.

Handwritten in neat carpenter's pencil, left hand column in descending order, the names of the 12 tribes of Israel.  There was listed on the right column the names of native African tribes, with a horizontal line connecting the tribe of Israel to a tribe of Africa.  The real Jews descended from the right hand column.  To the left, folks were assholes.   Honest to fuck, I remorse the way I think and regret having become a cynic.

I'm a prick, and I think silly things.  It can be hurtful.   I began equating the tribes of Israel, for example, Cohen, with the Ike and Tina Turner Review.    The tribe Levi is the Isaly Brothers.  

I'm a silly goose and had a bar mitzvah, 1971.  It's been a cheesy stretch of manhood, all the more when you supposedly begin at age 13.  Soon as one has one's bar Mitzvah, one is a constipated, overworked, unpopular  adult.  By age 14 we own insurance distributorships, and have ulcers.   Male pattern baldness begins at conception.  

Not to freak out, not to go reactionary scumbag over what's happening, I have a gerbil's fear people may be trying to steal 6000 years of advanced civilization and productivity.  People may feel entitled to the net worth of that time frame.   Two shitty things happened before, and can do so again:  stolen property and stolen intangibles.  Feel free to chat over which of two matters more. In either case, it's swag.  Thanks for reading. 

snukarama

spoken word/music I was like Sandra Dennis in a famous movie

 Do you know why people are making chipped ham out of each other with big, lurid weapons?  It's because of digital sound.  Alarms.  Artificial warning signs.  Series' (plural) of annoying beeps to alert people a cement mixer truck is about to puke wet cement into a plywood form, and stupid pedestrians need to stay the fuck out of the cement and quit sticking their stubby moronic fingers in it.   Quit writing your names in other people's wet cement!  Then the cement people wouldn't have to annoy everyone with their beeping.

I've been using the same sixteen inch gong for thirty years.   Gongs are a great way to get people's attention. It sounds natural.   

Don't beep.  Gong.  Thanks for reading.

 

Honest to fuck, I truly wish not to be a blowhard or pompous, sanctimonious asshole.  I wish not to be a Bible thumping asshole, with equal conviction  "Why bring it up, then, asshole," I would forgive you for asking right now.    Why now?    Why that stuff?  There's  this quote from the Bible that has been doing what slogans and platitudes are hoped to do.   It's is a quotation from the Bible that shoved a hot pepper up my ass, forever.   "How terrible is wisdom when it brings no profit to the wise."

It's a teasing sentiment.   It could mean, "it sucks being you."   Or, there is no hope for the future because stupid, greedy, lazy, recalcitrant people pissed the future away.   Some assholes are aware that there may be a direct relationship, both directions, better or worse, between common ethics and the quality of life.  Theists are known to see a direct correlation between sin and poverty. or between morals and prosperity, especially in the long term.  This is one of many minnows swimming in aquatic conservative thought.   

I grew up among thinking, free market  intellectuals.  This beefaroonie right here has to do with the way grass roots politics doomed itself with  excess hostility and contention.   Submission to trending mass stupidity, also.   Failure to resolve.   Failure to keep the peace.  When Trump was president, Dems were determined to get his fat ass out of office  by any means possible, honest or no.  Groovy.   Now, at grassroots level, voters have nothing left to work with.   Easy to destroy, hard to rebuild.  It's another basis for conservative thought.  Dems should have sought common ground with GOP voters and should have kept the subject of basic rights alive.  As it all went down, Dems got Trump out of office, and lost reproductive freedoms to the asshole currently anti-abortion Supreme Court.  How terrible is wisdom, knowing the voting public is too short sighted and shitty, too dishonest, too, to sustain both ethics and and civil rights.    

In the 1960s liberal intellectuals were rigorous thinkers.  Not fucking lately.  Back then people applied free market economics to the task of advancing human rights.   The small business owner can form political action committees.  To help.  To give back.   To establish charity and education.   With money earned in business and industry.    "Back in the day,"  the United States was in a vicious cycle of success.  So advanced of the political left to put an end to it all.   Thanks, assholes.

 

 Come next election voters will choose between  two clear plastic bags of formaldehyde.

"Well preserved" is an enjoyable and out-moded way of saying a person is over the hill and not a total embarrassment, yet.   

It would have been the thing for Democrats and GOPs to coalesce against the Federal Reserve a few decades ago.   Too bad voters  were busy getting 45 out of office while the banking biz was puking all over the poor.  Raising interest rates to reverse inflation.  It's your fault people are homeless.  Returning to the DT...    Not saying he's a  prince.  I don't vote GOP, but my loyalty to the Democrat Party feels, right now, like a bulging inflamed carbuncle.  On the ass.   All politicians remind me of a festered ingrown hair.  That's not attractive.

I don't support Trump, never did.   It was a waste of time  explaining to people there were more important things  than getting Trump when he was first 'in' and then 'out' of The White Rabbit Hole.  The disposition of real estate, e.g. affordable housing should have been front burner, and wasn't on the  Big Hot Amana Stove Of Middle Class Goodness.  The voting public is a danger to its goddam self.   

 

I divorced myself from humankind decades ago.  I am not a person.  At the moment, I am a rabbit.  A big one.   135 pounds.  I wonder if rabbits are well hung?   I should have looked into that before performing Santeria this morning.   No matter.  Peace.  Joy. Health.   Love.  Try to get you some.  I gonna' try ta' get some too.   Far Fucking Out.

I'm a man and I'm going to have my baby. You don't have to shove Roe v Wade up my ass. I'm a man and I'm knocked up.

 I'm a man, and contractions are coming two minutes apart.    Male pregnancies.   I'm doing one right now, and am asking people I haven't seen in years, or never met at all off the internet, if they would kindly pool resources.   We all benefit in the long run from people who are having babies.    Males, especially.   Babies born out of men.   It is widely believed God is cool with this.    If you have a few spare million bucks, please cut me and my fetus a bountiful trust fund.

Let me clarify.  I'm a man, I'm knocked up and facing an anal breech birth.   the little one is still growing inside, up my ass, perfectly normal for a male pregnancy.  Except for the breech birth position.  That's going to hurt.

Women are invited over for play date.  Bring your brats.  I am in no way hostile or discriminatory towards women who had babies twat-wise, after banging the hubby.  That's fine.  But could people please stop lying?   Men can impregnate themselves.  Men, me included, are hermaphrodites, and few are ready to come out of the closet, shoot jizz up their ass, and contribute to over-population.   

Maybe it's time we all fess up: vaginal sex is a pain in the ass, and men achieve pregnancy all on their own by pumping sperm butt-wise.  

Gentlemen, all any of you need to do is jerk off into a turkey baster, shove the small end up you ass and give a jaunty squeeze on the rubber bulb at the end.

people are always searching for a reason to shove things up people's ass.  I've identified the Jungian origin of proctology.   The myth of the ruby studded sigmoidoscope.  You can find literature on that.  The ruby studded butt-scope.   Some shitty where under the rainbow.  

3 18 2024

College: Institutional Deception and Racketeering

Bass, snare drum, 16" gong

anti natalism rant with guitar riffs

spoken word rant with guitar work

Andy Warhol and the Concept, On Its Lonesome, of Fame

 Hello.  Relax.  I gonna' wing out a precept or two, if that's alright, and talk about some things people may disagree with.  No worries.  Any impact at all can be converted to fluff with few lazy words.  That is why this is happening in frivolous quiz game format.   Question:  Was Andy Warhol an (a.) white savior, or (b.) a hoary looking dildo?  The former thing, white savior, could be illustrated by Warhol's help in making artist Jean-Michel Basquiat famous.   The young artist gained fame, as intended, and his paintings sell for a load of money these days.  People have quazi-religious faith in the importance of the work and the individual.

For readers who feel that Andy Warhol was, in any or all ways, a dildo, Basquiat passed from a heroin overdose at age 28.  This old cow hand does not consider that to be Andy's fault, but one could cite an unwholesome environment attributed to Andy Warhol's Factory.  The house band, The Velvet Underground, was not famous for mental hygiene.  More the opposite.  Lou Reed was no beacon of safe, harmonious living.  He was a famous junkie.   This may all seem like a broad, abstruse heap of cereal treat material, those confections made from puffed rice and sweet  quazi-edible binding materials.  I may have to mitigate my position on fame and Warhol.

Fame.   He's gonna' live forever.  Fame.  It was a tool, an aegis and applied philosophy, a strategy, maybe a few other things.  Warhol was vocal about the power and wealth people are able to achieve  by making themselves, and others, e.g. persons associated with Warhol's Factory, famous.   Jean-Michel Basquiat.

Warhol deliberately and methodically made  Basquiat famous, and in short order increased the market value of Basquit's paintings.  Everyone living and breathing is welcome to agree or disagree that Warhol may have been in part responsible for Basquiat's untimely check out.  Are you not intrigued by this supposition?  Do you care that the word 'supposition' reminds me of 'suppository?'  Tangential, but perhaps we are all taking news and information up the ass.

No?  Sure.   Now I have to let the dogs out.  Your fault.  You are making me do this:  What if people are becoming school shooters out of a perverse, desperate need to achieve fame?  They get their dimpled little mugs on national news, their names are named thousands of times on the news and on true crime shows, all Crab Nebula of stars, one for each evil scum bag who does a mass shooting because some dildo wants to be famous, and can't do it by way of musical acumen.  They don't have it to paint pictures of Campbell's soup cans, or Brillo boxes.  Their only way to be famous is to kill, kill, kill.  Sick, sick, sick.  But Warhol did some cool art work.  We got a museum named after his white, white, white, white albino Campbell's soup eating ass.  He got famous.  He's gonna live forever...

Jizaraga parables and music

Euthenasia, Lobotomies on the cheap, more Thorazine, please

 

Folks of all stripes and feathers differ in their opinions on Vlad the Impaler.  Considered by some to have been a vicious sadist, or maybe a common megolomaniac in the imaginations of people, people like me, who have a  habit of ratiocinating.   I can't help it.  I am a ratiocinating fool.    And it may be important and necessary to compare differing interpretations of similar what-the-fuck-evers. There are I.Q. tests to see who the fuck can deal like a champ with analogies.   Me.  Huckleberry.  It's an initiative to achieve greater understanding of what the fuck ever.

 Divination is just such an initiative, by Jove.   It's a job for we metaphoric fuckers.   Fuck me for interloping, but it could be said that fucking Watson and fucking Crick discovered the ass-humping DNA molecule by process of divination.  Of a search.  Their search for what ever,  hot, like a pack of trained dogs, on finding the origin, the processes all trillion of them, that make plants, animals and us what they fuck it all fucking is.   The scientific methods, naturally, a fuck load of the goddam things.    I'm canine in a similar, comparative way, in coming to grips of Vlad the Impaler.  There is a golconda of things analogous to Vlad.

Let's not get off on the wrong sharpened pole.  We all know people have more in common than not.  This is a pop unifying principle whipped out virtually everywhere in feeble attempts at making life better than it is.   Here we have Watson, Crick and Vlad the Impaler, all compared to one another, and to the remaining billions of smiling, farting stupid Earthlings.    The limitless capacities held by great people are as prone to ruckus same as is life for dim, low, drooling morons.  I wish to extend reasonable thought to Vlad's way of dealing the chickenshit lousy people.   In some regards, in not all, he appears to have made a wise decision in becoming an impaler.  Thanks for reading.

Maybe all megolomaniacs, modern ones, too, are Vlad in sheep's clothing.   Gates.   Musk.   Bernie Madoff,   But let's limit chat to deterrent tactics.  Of interest here:  leaving dozens of poor dead souls run through and gruesomely suspended from long young saplings, cut and shaved for making a gruesome spectacle.  It scares the living shit out of trespassers, sabateurs, foreign meddlers, and most all all, any disrespectful classless piece of shit who annoys people.  Vlad had the right idea about people.  They are shitty.  Thanks for reading.

My Three Ketones flash fiction with music. all original 2 13 2024

Flemburgher: a poem and music

Psychological Trauma Results 2 9 2024

Beagle Puke a story in a zillion short bull sessions, with music

poem reading with music: Slumdweller 2 7 2024

 Society, with all its individuals and groups, can be rather primitive, in spite of a few centuries of social progress.  People care about justice, and violate it.  People resort to doing wrongful things out of a nervous, skittish need for justice.   I watched a news show about the woman who is going to jail because her physically unattractive son is a convicted school shooter.  She’s accused of not preventing the tragedy.

Too often people go nuts looking for a guilty party.    Hell.  Our court system is announcing, by mainstream media, that not only should school shooters go to hell, their mums and pops should also go to hell.    That lady who just got convicted of negligent homicide, she going.  She going to Hell.  Her stupid, ugly kid is going to hell for committing homicides, and his mother is going to Hell for spawning that ugly piece of shit.

School shootings are a copycat crime in all cases.  In all cases the shooter is imitating what shooters, past, did.   With innovation and a sense of culture, the culture of school shooters.

I believe that shooter’s mother was just convicted of murder in lieu of a conviction against the mainstream media.  The mom was at worst a shit head in the matter, and it’s not against the law to be stupid in the US.   No one went broke underestimating American taste.   There’s  a sucker born every minute. Losing gracefully is like getting kissed by your sister.   Show me a graceful loser and I’ll show you a loser.   All that said, steer clear of witch hunts where possible.  Don’t burn portly  women for having a lousy piece of shit for a kid.  Blame the mainstream media for the epidemic of violence.

Institutional Racism and Resulting Trauma 2 4 2024

I took a picture of some of the healing crystals I’ve been buying lately.   Differing types of quarts, agate, hematite, and whatever else cures everything from hangnail to decapitation.  Germs fuck off at the sight of green aventurine.   Healing crystals communicate with germs and pathogens.  They say to them, “You get your ass the fuck out of here, asshole.”

RSV germs, they listen, and fuck off.   All strains of N1H1 shit themselves with remorse and fear when you walk towards them wearing  amethyst.  

Antibiotics are  fine for common mortals who have no power over illness.  But how fucking stupid to subsume the supernatural.   Was the Spanish Inquisition some pussy’s idea of a prank?  Or… are people serious about their superstitions?   Ever watch a Tarzan movie?  Remember Jerry Falwell, Jim and Tammy Baker…    Healing crystals.   Only the inferior take pharmaceuticals.  

 

What Whacked Grass Roots Politics 2 2 2024

 

What's the deal with intellectuals?   Are they all jerks?   Am I a jerk?  Am I really an intellectual, or a jerk who thinks his theories are as valuable and important as other people's theories?   

Yours truly is not associated with a university or long standing non-government agency.  This means that no university will validate a word of anything that enters my little head, or that I self-publish.  I don't get paid to produce art objects or recorded music.   I am not recognized as an oppressed minority in spite of being one.  My brand of dysfunction isn't drawing charity.   What does a person have to do these days?   

Live like a mouse, on a string, in someone else's kitchen, scurrying among baited mouse traps.   Survival of the happiest.  There's always room to get smaller.

Why I Feel So Blue support marginalized writers. me for example

Philosophy Up My Sleeve

 

I like the new way of being.   Triple, quadruple thinking, but fewer errors dealing with people.   It's like baseball (ha ha,)  forced and unforced errors.    People get put off.  But more difficult these days to meet the need, one has to filter out anything stressful from conversation.  One always converses as if the medical establishment wasn't performing slow genocide collateral to the normal run of medical services.   Or that the government is containing nearly all aspects of pedestrian daily life.   Futures are being converted from limitless to singular.   Monotony is what comes out the back end of voracious government control over people.  So what.  Learn to love boredom.

High Rise 1 -29 2024

an arrant rant with improvisational music

 We will be talking pecking order.  Social class.   Let's traipse o'er the illusory mounds of guano.  In one regard, there are only two social classes, depending.   One strand of fringe is binary:  there are Brahmans, and Nobodies.  If you must perceive three social classes, fine, here:  Bahmans, middle class, and invisible ugly pieces of crap.    In this view, the middle class is desperate to curry favor with Brahmans, and have no respect, extending no honors, to Nobodies.  

Let's change the world, linguistically.   The new word for the local middle class is 'middlegets.'   Etymology:  middle class plus midget.  Tiny people who spend their lives sucking up to the A list.

 

Above freezing, scant snow in wet strands, otherwise, wholesome bright  winter sun.  Anticipation preceding my lead water line replacement, I had no idea till I hiked right up  to it.  The water company said they were going to replace the water line leading from my front sidewalk to my basement, where the water meter blinks and rats to the authorities whatever my use of water tells the thought police.   They neglected to say when they were going to do it, so it was a lovely Roald Dahl-like serendipity when I came upon over a dozen workers, myriad large trucks equipped for Himalayan  disaster relief, and several smiling warmly dressed people from the waterworks, there to deal with fucked up people, me too, whose poison heavy metal water conduits  are rotting everyone's weak little brains out.  They needed my permission to enter my house. 

How democratic.   They had already demolished one square yard of  sidewalk and were six feet down it, a fellow in the hole with steel appurtenances oscillating and plunging, and  there was an oblong hole in the street about six by eight feet, ten feet down,  showing wide shitty corroded pipes in several directions, like the Jolly Green Giant's heart after he smoked a carton of unfiltered Lucky Strikes a day for sixty years, like since birth, as is common around the North Side.  There was a person in that hole, working away.   I knew this was coming, but realities deserve a medal for their inventiveness.  It was so different from my mixed anticipations.  

Did you ever read William Faulkner's book As I Lay Dying?  At the end of it, a character, after a novel full of hardship and loss, gains a victrola, or, primitive record player.    I got a free water shut off valve in the basement, and I'm so happy about that I could pleasure the load of people who replaced my water lines, assuming everyone takes a bath, first. It's a good thing that won't happen.   It would not be near as serendipitous if everyone had to blow the water works.   In other news...

The electric company sends me emails reminding me that I am a  little puke for using more energy this week than last.  That don't give a flying fuck about my woodworking project, they know it's my table saw,  only pricks like me run that many amps in what normal customers  use as a spare bedroom for their relatives, and the thought police are aware no one visits my hovel.   Commissars are scratching their heads, wondering why a zero like me would use more watts than a common shit kicker.    I'm trying, trying damn it, to explain, to make their lives easier.  

Experimental music: Old Hyena 1 22 2024

rant 1 21 2024

 Here, like 'eurkea!,'  the Perry South district, was a wonderful place a long time ago.   There is a vacant, mostly disused marble institution for shitheads a few blocks from where my ass is planted, the eleventh floor of a subsidized highrise apartment building.  A great building, that school that taught thousands of stupid children how to be less useless to society.   It's been a long time since great people were anywhere fucking near it.  It's a fossil of an animal that went extinct...the collective talents and morals of people who lived and kicked the bucket in what is now more an occupied territory than a neighborhood.

Across an alley from the school there is a long puritanical brick building built in small, tiny, apartments suitable for housing dirt poor school teachers or nuns.  There are still big stone seminaries and friaries.  I contend the soul went out of here a long time ago.   People are alive and without souls.   

 

Hey, get Milton.   You heard me, pal.   Milton Fucking Friedman.   That short, pudgy late Nobel Prize winning ass motherfucker once popular among  academics and a diverse libertarian fringe.  Unregulated free markets.  Global ones.   Solely domestic ones, too, you know, like for reasons of security, like where you don't want foreign enemies pulling shit.  You wanna'  keep some of the economy and what the fuck ever else safe from outside fuckers.  But we're in a huge bat shit global economy.   Free trade, if we call it that in all fucking reality, with pals of ours like China, for fucking example, is a grubby little entanglement.   Let's bunny hop to the basics.

Essentially, free trade is any and all goods and services exchanged, cash or credit, a cash flow model usually discernable by owlish regulatory agencies and the CIA.   This at once a simple and complex process, we fucking hope, is not being dictated by the government, it's is a system of exchange among privately owned and operated happy manufacturers, retailers, the prostitutes fat assed executives frequent,  all the single malt scotch fat rich piggy men can swill down, and commerce.   That's people, earning money, free of government intrusion or influence.  Commies, damn-it-to-hell, favor complete government control of the economy, usually resulting in manic greed and pervasive peonage.   They have a habit of going genocidal.  People in academics, the Marxist leaning ones, tend to gloss over that unpleasantness when bragging like a cowpoke about what they believe to be both truth and sophistication:  Capitalism is terrible, socialism is a low budget worker's Emerald City, like in the film The Wizard of Oz.

More shit about dynamics of social and private economics, macro, micro, big, grand, shitty, what the fuck ever...   read this fucking blog.  I'm a sage ass mother fucker.   Thanks for reading.

Rant/Lecture/Nonsense 1 19 2024

 

One hundred dip-shitty years of social science, and people are still primitive jerk-offs.  Most of that time cowardly milquetoast academics were blaming everything wrong with people on a blanket causality, fat greedy libertarian economics.  Hail Karl Marx.   That pudgy bearded wonder will solve everything.   

The problem is not capitalism.  Even communists forbid people jerking off in their open cublicle, visible to passersby.   Where have we been as a species?   The sexual revolution of 1960s produced now terminal VD and rounds of hatred among men and women.   Men are killing for pussy.  Women are fucking for dominance.   Then, on a greasy, vile time line,  post-AIDS epidemic, woke culture has pumped gender dysphoria and sex change surgery, with pharmaceuticals for life for everyone.    All that wonderful progress, and people are not allowed to masterbate in front of each other in their corporate work places.  

It’s hostile and  discriminatory, defamatory for fuck sake, to allow this job discrimination against people who need to whack off.   PWNTWO are a highly productive and horny interest group.  Few of us care who is watching when we do it.    I, for one, have a nice cock.  Thanks for reading.

 Have people become a mass of un-chivalrous motherfuckers?  Self-sacrifice used to be popular among some religious ethnic groups, but isn't really the preferred American archetype.  What I'm driving at is that there are two political parties, and neither party is supportive of the other's position.  Dem's oppose everything GOPs do or stand for, and vice versa.   While 45 was prez, Dems opposed everything he did, irrespective of merit.   This was harmful.   

Chivalry is hating 45 as intensely as it gets.   You are honored to hold  a 9.5 on  a scale of 10 for unsullied  fulminating revulsion, yet you acknowledge that it was common sense to impose tariffs against imports from China.  Suppose you admit an agenda favoring private small business could benefit a few dumb lucky little pedestrians. 

Suppose, as well, a plan to shift power from the federal government to state government could enable a more vital democratic process and possible fairer disposition of resources.  Or not.  That last thing could suck, bad.  The point in coughing it up is that I think it's worthy of unbiased consideration among other points of view.  It is chivalrous to consider opinions that may oppose your own, and those you care about.   No one in this happy hovel is suggesting anyone sell their kids and granny up the river for a tax break or paid vacation on the corporate arm.  Chivalry could be happy, cheerful, honest, friendly bipartisanship.  Chivalry was known, thought,  to exist in that past.  Or the fucking whole matter is a goddam fairy tale.  I'm just hucking it out.  There may be a purpose in discussing chivalry.  Maybe I'm not wrapped to tight.  Thanks for reading.

I am providing a Sunday Sermon. A shitty one.

 The European Enlightenment fizzled out in the United States, like a wet firecracker.  It was we who fizzled it.  Well, shit, maybe our forebears.  Maybe modern people had, passively, their thumbs up their ass while people around them devolved into stupid, unprincipled crapola.   People are out of their element through no fault of their own.  Forced to work for telemarketing firms and food service holes, people become their jobs.  They become shitty.    In the 1950s the narative, the book title, The Ugly American defined Americans as rude, inconsiderate, abusive, narcissistic, greedy, duplicitous, cowardly and willfully cruel.  They are.   And I am one.   Sorry, folks.   I feel disgusting.  I feel at one with a collective revulsion for self and society.  Join me.  It is sunny, freezing outside, like a witches mammary gland, like Satan's wife's best friend.  Happy Sunday.  Who cares how fucked up things are.   Join me in rejoicing:  Far Fucking Out.

 The humor is really picking up here.  What do you call a mailman who lost his job?..Just some dude!  Hilarious. It's a way-homer.   If you think about the linguistics, the semantics, the fucking semiotics for fuck sake, you can't help comprehending the humor that is being offered to you, dear people, and you should be shitting yourself with intense, uncontrollable laughter.   I told a joke.    Some folks find it funny when a person breaks wind.    Anything.  Laugh.  Like the opera in which an ugly clown makes this miserable show of emotion.   Yock it up.   No sense being a ass-fucking stupid sour puss.   Thanks for reading.  I feel closer for writing this to Dale Fucking Carnegie.  I'm fucking nearly Will Fucking Rogers.  Thanks again.  Big ones.

3 Bed Bug Haiku (with guitar) 1 11 2024

 Are people spending enough time, in public, or on video, in a fetal position?    I believe we, as a society, may have lost our place as complete, total non-persons.   It used to feel good on the fringe of society, un-athletic,  self-ritious and neurotic.   Playwrights created shitloads of annoying, helpless, emotionally desperate characters from Blanche Dubois to Felix Unger of the beloved Odd Couple.  Annoying sickly people were in their glory, each a Mr. Mojo Rising.    People should quit going to therapists and let their freak flags fly.  As for my needs, I'm one of those rare geniuses that curl up on the floor sideways and play an electric bass.