Saturday, April 17, 2004

ONE BULLSHIT PLANET

Friday night in Hollywood, and the cars cruise past beyond the windows (yes, stuffed with eyes) and pulsing with hip-hop bass. I swear a new generation of the stone deaf are being created. And if that wasn’t enough, the LAPD choppers circle the building, like it was 1969 in Saigon, annoying the drunks in Plummer Park with their sunguns, and drowning out my TV with that recurrent Doppler bass boom. Whomp-whomp-whomp-whomp-whomp-whompity-whomp-whomp.

Meanwhile, hearing the news today (oh boy) I learn that an HIV vector and maybe actual test-positive infections have closed down the porn industry in the Valley, or is this just some Justice Department black-disinformation op that has stilled the cameras in Chatsworth? The next advance of oppression after Janet Jackson’s Reichstag tit?

Meanwhile, a GOP propaganda web site features a game where players can be President George Bush killing terrorists who have invaded the White House. (No, I ain’t giving you a link to that.) So are you of anything approaching sound mind – you out there in Middle America, where you all believe Monkey Boy is some kinda John Wayne and doing just great? As a good socialist, I have defended you to friends and acquaintances. You the People simply can’t be that stupid. But listen, now you’re making a monkey outta me, and I cannot tolerate that. I look bad. This shit has got to go, or I turn violently elitist, okay? As I recall, the last world leader to accompany his troops personally into battle was King George II (I think), who led a quick safe cavalry charge during the War of Austrian Succession (maybe) but then headed swiftly back to his tent, his mistress, and several nice bottles of vintage port.

Maybe it’s just that it’s the nominal end of a long week, but -- despite Patti Smith singing good, but looking like Willie Nelson’s sister on Letterman, and Lenny Kaye healthy with a green Fender -- this seems like one bullshit planet right now, and I want out. Intelligent life? Forget about it. Have the greased Scotsman beam me up. Like, with some urgency?

MAKE THE PIE HIGHER!

This is a short poem made up entirely of actual quotations from George W. Bush. These have been arranged, only for aesthetic purposes, by Washington Post writer, Richard Thompson. It’s come via Roger in Scotland, where GWB is held in low estimation, laddie.

I think we all agree, the past is over.
This is still a dangerous world.
It's a world of madmen and uncertainty
And potential mental losses.

Rarely is the question asked
Is our children learning?
Will the highways of the Internet
Become more few?
How many hands have I shaked?

They misunderestimate me.
I am a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity.
I know that the human being
And the fish can coexist.

Families is where our nation finds hope,
Were our wings take dream.
Put food on your family!
Knock down the tollbooth!
Vulcanize society!
Make the pie higher!
Make the pie higher!


CRYPTIQUEIn the sky with Elvis.

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