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THE OUTER BOOGIEVisit our Wonderland of Topiary Trees
TABLE OF MALCONTENTS:
ABOUT AMERICA'S FAVORITE PRETERNATURAL PLAYGROUND
Dear Reader:
If you are as sick as I am of waiting 15 minutes for
this page to load, you will be delighted to learn that
THE OUTER BOOGIE is moving to Yahoo 360.
All of these world famous entries will be there,
some already are, as well as a few new (short) ones,
ready to eat as we speak (These are: "Heathen Grace",
"Moon Candy" and the mysterious "Giant Green Pianos
of Forgotten Love", already nominated for the "Outer Boogie
Mysterious Title of the Year" award by the readers of "The
Pluto Bugler" )
________________________________________________
BE SURE TO VISIT
BEFORE THE GOVERNMENT CLOSES IN
SEE YOU THERE
_______......________
The Outer Dealie With Different Stuff On It Every Day
_________ Welcome Mat ___________
On behalf of the entire TOB staff,
be you old friend or accidental tourist, welcome indeed to The Outer Boogie,
America's favorite altergalactic observational contra-wing prayer recipe bulletin.
TOB is a non-prophet bastionary transmogrification of ideas and denial solely
and wholly dedicated to the furtherance of confusion and paranoia. And it's free!
________________________________________________
As most of the communications from the countless armies of TOB loyalists are in the form
of email, this space, which used to be The Outer Guestbook, will serve as an ancillary and
dedicated daily dose of non-specific something or other to ease the anticipatory anxiety so
often and widely suffered in the long weeks between the authors surgically precise entries.
Be it a quote, a daily meditation, a link, or a painfully witty observation, you will find every
day an offering that will hopefully serve you. On days it does not, consider our cover charge.
As always, your interest is truly appreciated, and your thoughts are always welcome.
You're all I've got. But I guess that's my fault.
Boogie, Chillun-
Wes
_________________________________________________________________________________
Next entry in ___ days: "Tug Of Peace"
Proof positive that a connection between war, the Discovery Channel, Jody Foster,
Al Gore and southern Baptist ministers is possible in a fevered mind.
______________________________________________________
THE OUTER DEALIE WITH DIFFERENT STUFF ON IT EVERY DAY
entry for 08/25/2007:
since it's the maiden voyage, you get two
a gift: http://www.youtube.com/v/luOBN4Xl-Rk
One of the zillions of remarkable and unexpected things revealed to me during four decades of
complete dedication to music (and in your life's passion too, I'll bet) is the commonality of pain and
shocking disaster. The list of tragedies in every personal flightpath is long; but it seems to me- unbiased
as I am, of course- that musicians can fly the flag of what-the-fuck-was-that-about with an extra measure
of senseless loss, because so often the very best this precious art has to offer is either paved over so the
league of silk suits upstairs will have a place to build the latest pop icon mini mall, or their names go up
in smoke behind the dreaded artist temperament, bad pilots or bizarre mishaps. There's an awful number
of damp and dusty tombstones in rock n roll's epic graveyards, but only a few tell a story as heartbreaking
as that of Randy California, an extraordinary guitarist and a man of peace who never received anything
approaching the recognition he deserved. After a prolific series of records that exemplified his predilections
more than his prowess, he drowned in the Pacific ocean, a place he loved, while saving his young son from
the same fate. His body has never been found.
The link above will take you to a video that beautifully demonstrates what made Randy a gift you
should open. For a list of some of his best work, simply drop me a line. In the meantime, turn it up, and
wish you were there.
..and a thought:
'Absolutely everything should be acceptable to everyone, unless it's wrong".
- Johnny Rotton
__________________________ 08 / 28 / 2007________________________
I briefly considered testing my persuasive mettle by trying to convince you your calendar is a misprint, but I didn't want
to give the impression I'm the kind of person that might typically indulge in such mischief. The fact is my calendar was
broken during a strangely unreported North Carolina seismic event near the TOB offices, and I can't get over to Wal Mart
to replace it because of the whole martial law thing. Really.
consider this during the next you tube presidential debate (now there's an idea who's time has gone):
'Politics: (Noun.) Strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles.'
- Ambrose Bierce ..so get out those absentee ballots...
'The world is more like it is right now than it has ever been before.'
- Dwight Eisenhower
____________________________________________08 / 30 / 2007______________________________________________
Ok, ok... so I don't always know what day it is. There, it's on the table. So think of it as "The Outer Dealie With
Different Stuff On It Sometimes". Admit it, you forgot to check in yesterday anyway. Just read it and move on.
I was perusing an online dictionary and found this sentence. It didn't help, but that's not the point.
"Constructed by using an auxiliary word rather than an inflected form; for example, of father is the
periphrastic possessive case of father but father's is the inflected possessive case, and did say
is the periphrastic past tense of say but said is the inflected past tense."
Alrighty.
______________________________09/03/2007___________________________________
Everybody wants to go to heaven,
but nobody wants to die.
09/11/2007
Welcome to the Eleventh of September.
Wish you were here.
______________________09 / 13 / 07_________________________
rehab wisdom.
"I like my women like I like my coffee...
weak, and in a styrofoam cup."
- Leprechaun Ron (a friend)
___________________09 / 15 / 07___________________
OJ SIMPSON IS INNOCENT!
Sure it's crap. But I figure if I put the words
OJ SIMPSON IS INNOCENT!
here, there's a better chance TOB will turn up in more internet searches;
and if more people find it, more lives can be saved.
(It's free, people.)
___________________ 09 / 18 / 07 ___________________
My next entry has proven very difficult to edit. Worse, I've been having some weird
technical issues with Spaces, which I'm sure have more to do with my complete lack of
mechanical chops than anything else. TOB IS NOT DEAD - it just smells weird.
Please check again soon- it's coming. Thanks.
-Wes
____________________09/ 27/ 07_____________________
A word about "Tug of Peace"
Anyone that's read TOB in any kind of real way surely, I hope, knows that I am uninterested in your personal
poop. You can dance naked in the street for all I care. But if you are easily sucked into the vortex of dumb, it
is unlikely you will get invited to dinner at my place anytime soon. More importantly, if you are a murderous
psychopath, I'm telling your mom. Period.
_____________________________10 / 10 / 07__________________________
Next entry in ____ DAYS: "Season of Nether"
Outhouse of the rising sun.
______________________________
_________10 / 15 / 07_________
HAPPY OUTER BIRTHDAY EMILY BLAKE
EVERYTHING IS GONNA BE AS PERFECT AS YOU DESERVE
FOREVER
It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see. _____________________________________________________________ 11/ 20/ 07
My apologies to the state of Virginia. I meant to say Vermont.
I'll take "States that start with a V" for 500, Alex.
____________________________________________________________
have a swell day. |
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October 01 TUG OF PEACE
TUG OF PEACE
"From life alone to life as one
think not now your journey is done;
for though your ship be sturdy,
no mercy has the sea!
Will you survive on the ocean of being?"
-Peter Gabriel
-Alex Harvey
For Hunter
"We don't see things as they are.
We see things as we are."
-Anais Nin
_______________________________
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.
The creator of all space and time wants to get a message across, and letting Christ be tortured and murdered
is his best idea? I'm just a shmoe halfway to my return to dust, but I think it would've occurred to me to a least
try passing out some flyers first.
Ok, obviously this kind of stuff isn't that simple. I know that, you know that, all God's chillun.......
Well, maybe not all of 'em.
The stats are staggering. This planet is crawling with theists. God, and I mean every single one of Him,
knows when you've been sleeping, and knows when you're awake.
scroll down to the photo on this page and take a look at me. I am 47 years old. I think it would take a vivid imagination to think of me as something even similar to mainstream. I once quit a job 1 hour into my first day because I realized how boring my boss actually was. When I was a little kid I fell in love with my best friends older sister- not so much because she was lovely, but because she liked Mott the Hoople. I've never owned a suit. I've owned 3 cars in my lifetime- all very used, all given to me (One of them I sold for 50 bucks to shorten the list of hassles during a hastily conceived relocation, and another one I lost the keys to- unfortunately they were in the ignition at the time. I pretty much gave up looking for it several years ago). I've consumed so much Southern Comfort in my time that major stockholders would send me christmas cards if they could find me. I've taken so many drugs that kissing me might sedate you. I buy my clothes at thrift stores. My favorite jacket is a cheap velvet blazer with a torn lining. I would rather have a great conversation than find a hundred dollar bill. I could eat plain spaghetti or McDonalds double cheeseburgers every day for the rest of my life, without complaint. I like to play guitar, watch the circus roll daily by, and ignore ringing phones and doorbells. I don't care about power, politicians make me sick, and if more people were familiar with my life story they would officially name the path of least resistance "Wesley Way". In other words, I am the Anti-Square. ________________________________________________ I tell you all of this because I want you to know who's telling you all of this. I tell you all of this because I want to tell you all of this. _________________________________________ START THE REV-ILLUSION ________________________________________________ I saw an anti-war protest yesterday on television. I like television. A lot. It's pretty much the only place most people can see stuff like anti-war protests. Unless you live in Berkeley, of course. Berkeley is my favorite place in the country. I plan to die there. In Berkeley, anti-war protests are the State Bird. Berkeley is so weird, they have their own Monopoly game. That's true. I once saw a cop there in full cop regalia leaning against a building playing an acoustic guitar, with a burning cigarette stuck behind the strings on the headstock like I often do. I told him I'd never seen a cop in full cop regalia leaning against a building playing an acoustic guitar with a burning cigarette stuck behind the strings on the headstock like I often do, and he said, "What's your point?" I thought it was a fine question, and said so. I'm pretty sure I look to you like a person who has no problem with dissent.
Trust your instinct. But protest is supposed to make sense; if it doesn't, it's not a protest at all. It's just a bunch of people spending perfectly good energy wasting perfectly good noise about something
they've apparently perceived ass backwards.
Anybody with pubic hair that's interested enough in the world to have picked up a book has probably seen the famous photograph of a hippie at a 1967 peace march putting a flower in the gun barrel of a National Guardsman.
During the anti-war protest yesterday, one of the peace loving hemp heavy heartstringed whippersnappers told a reporter, who works for a network widely considered "right wing",
that if he didn't leave he was going to get his ass kicked. Another one, considerably older, told the same reporter he might not get out of there alive. C'mon people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together, try to love one another
right now.
I think we all remember Woodstock 99, where 3 days of peace and music revisited
ended up with thousands of people in giant short pants setting fires, having fights and
generally destroying everything in sight to the contemplative musical messages of The
Offspring and Metallica.
There's no such thing as a peace riot, guys. Kicking ass for peace is like serving cupcakes at a Stop Obesity fundraiser.
It's very similar to another example of whirled peas in my home town, recently
in the news; a gay pride parade advertisement featuring a- parody, I guess,
though I always thought parody was most effective when it was parodic, of
The Last Supper, showing a bunch of muscle bound sex fans around a table of
enchanting sex devices popular with people who like plastic stuff in their butt.
Honestly, you can't imagine how little I care about your sexual antics. Fact is,
my sexual resume' would make Annie Sprinkle choke on her Cheerios.
My observation is about the effort. I'm no activist, but if "Insults for Tolerance"
is the best your spokespeople can come up with, seems to me it's time for a meeting.
But since insults and tirades are the new pink in American discourse,
let me be frank.
Leave it to the new mass of Old Navy fat-free double mocha college hotties to fuck up a peace (or a get-a-piece) movement. I know it's unromantic, kids, but the Middle East ain't Vietnam. I know it's boring, but pissing in the Holy water
ain't gonna get the Catholics on the leather chaps and butt-less blue jeans band
wagon.
All of which boils down to a single, reasonable question.
Who are you fucking people?
Changing the world doesn't happen every time there's a new societal bent, folks,
even if you try real hard. Revolution is not a fad. None of you wants the shooting
stopped more than I do, none of you. It is the most pathetic kind of earthly crap.
But a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse. America has foreign policy that is
so incredibly ill conceived that every fingerprint on it should lead to criminal convictions.
But if you think I'm gonna support an apology over it that will result in my little neice
having to wear a hockey mask and a parka every time she needs to go get some milk for
her future children because somebody's God thinks women are trash, you're out of your
mind.
Do we belong there? Absolutely not.
Do we have to be there? I think its pretty obvious to anyone paying attention
that religion is the natural enemy of common sense. It's always been annoying, but since 9/11
it's potential for being number one with a bullet (or an airplane) on the international pain-in-the-ass
chart is -finally- fully and inarguably realized among people with a grip on mortality. Strangely, the punch line of the whole thing- peace on Earth- is never the result of it's practice. I
said never. In fact, in the most religiously effusive places on the planet, you're a hell of a lot more
likely to get shot over it than saved by it. It baffles me that this fact has no effect on the legions of
squeaky clean hat-passing Sunday morning sectators that fill the worlds churches. And let me break
the bad news if no one else will: trusting the Untied Nations to keep an eye on fanatical factions is like
asking Stevie Wonder to drive you home.
I want nothing to do with politics. Your politics mean as much to me as your
shoe size; and me, I couldn't find Iceland on a map if you threatened to beat me
to death with a brass sextant. But even though my working knowledge of whatever
it is that keeps the trains on time makes Don Ho look like Eddie Van Halen, I know
when something stinks.
And stink- the kind that is only a relative of smell- is a mighty thing. When it's bad
enough, like the smell of death and politics and greed, it's tangible. You can taste
it. It sticks to your skin, like a black and humid southern night.
THE SATAN WHEEL________________
The eleventh of September is here again. There's something to be said for anniversaries.
We've all heard it said that if one forgets the past he is doomed to repeat it, but I don't think
that's clear enough to be a curative measure. A recovering alcoholic will tell you insanity is
doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, and that's a bit
closer to our collective folly; but it's rhythmic, and a rhythmic phrase is soon like an expired
drug.
We all remember the past. Our problem is that we too often add elements of our present
in a way that connects them falsely, or we embellish in a way that paints the truth, or, worst
of all, our memories become simply the words that describe them, and the power they have
to teach us is lost.
A state of vigilance is imperative to remembering the past. We must not confuse memory
with regret, or it's value is destroyed. We must avoid holding it so tightly that we reshape it,
or worse, squeeze it to death. Like everything else, it's a circle, and equilibrium is a fragile
thing. If you're constantly spinning around to look behind you, your balance goes out the
window; but if you don't do it at all, eventually you're bound to get a kick in the ass.
None of which means a goddamn thing to those who can find reason in driving a car bomb
through a McDomivahd's during the Islamist lunch hour; those who don't just spin around too
often to look at the the past, but actually still think we live there.
THE BALLAD OF WILDER STILL____________________________
Some practices and cultures are mysterious even to those who jump around
the world studying them, and that's good news if you're a National Geographic
Channel program director or a bored graveyard shift gas station guy with a
12 inch tv. But the truth is the bottom line on much of that stuff is as simple as
dirt.
Chopping permanent designs in your face and putting a bone through your
nasal septum as a passage to "manhood", or gathering around a fire beating
drums with a bone and painting your pet boar with chimp shit to wake up
the ovulation genie is a pretty good indication there's not a hell of a lot
of libraries in the immediate vicinity.
If one side of the world is riding a rocket to deep space while another side is
pulling out childrens fingernails to inspire the rain beasties because... well,
because that's how you get the rain beasties attention, I guess, then it's pretty
obvious the latter was in the bathroom when the bus left about a thousand years
ago. Beyond echoes of what great-great grandparents have said, what they know
of life on earth is prehistoric. That has nothing whatsoever to do with whether or
not these people are bad or good, because in that department, they're just like you
and me. But it's 2007 (as I'm fond of pointing out), and the lifespan of these people
has the same finishing line as a plumber in Poughkeepsie. And that means
these people are being robbed, and they don't have to be. Of course you on the phony
"right" would think we shouldn't suck up the cost, because it would be too hard to figure
out which special interest would be able to siphon kickbacks. The government doesn't
play well with the Departments Of Public Education.
Let's say Ted Nugent, on one of his hunting sprees, found a guy in the woods wearing
a loin cloth and boiling a virgin to get rid of a headache. It's not had to imagine that
people would come apart at the seams to "civilize" him; he'd be on a tour like the
monster in Young Frankenstein, listening to everyone ooh and ahh as he demonstrated
his new and hard earned prowess with a can opener, singing "You've got a friend".
And why? Because leaving him stupid and running on pure instinct would be wrong,
that's why. Of course, the tour would be sponsored by Bud Light and quickly rot like
every other instantaneous flash-in-the-pan (in a year his mug shot will be on TMZ after
his 3rd D.U.I.), but the initial motivation would be the idea that teaching him something
about what most of the world has learned is the right thing to do. And if you on the phony
"left" wanna argue about that because Jodi Foster made you cry in "Nell" or you believe
it's wrong to infect his simple nature by teaching him to be part of the greedy western war
machine, then we'll argue. Give me a call after you get the kids off to school.
MESHES FOR CELESTIA_____________
From The Outer Boogie, "Interview with a Housefire":
'As far as I'm concerned, the only only aspect of this that I can consider right now is that
thousands of people from my neck of the world who have no idea I even exist are living in Bedrock and sleeping with a rifle, just in case I do. Tom Robinson said "If left is right then right is wrong; you better decide which side you're on". I'm on their side.'
The weirdest aspect of the "war on terror" is that Americans aren't just on different pages,
we're not even reading the same book, and that doesn't make any sense at all in a situation
like this one. While there's room for debate regarding strategies and leadership, treating the
issues behind this thing as though you're talking to the mayor about potholes on Main street
is not just embarassingly stupid, it's infuriating to those of us with a fondness for the absence
of tanks in our neighborhoods. I have yet to hear one 'anti-war' democrat or Hollywood atten-
tion whore even hint that they might have some idea about who this enemy is. Tim Robbins
(and every other social injustice junkie) is worried sick that the west is infecting an ancient
culture with our greed and decadence, shouting from the moon-roof of his limo to anyone
that'll listen that the only reasons we're there are to keep a political agenda alive and to line
the pockets of right wing rich guys with oil interests. Imagine that! Politician's with a war
time agenda. I say it's shocking. It's shocking, says I.
Dear Hollywood,
Everybody knows there's nothing rational or humane about a nation like ours, or any nation
that imagines decency, selling weapons to countries that are several centuries behind the times
and at least an age behind the truth. It is the shittiest kind of earthly nonsense. If one family is
hungry in a world of prosperous nations, giving a dime to murderous, hyper-religious cave trogs
is a sin, and should carry a penalty that makes the noisy parts of the Book of Revelations look like
home room detention. Who are you fucking people?
I don't need to consider some clandestine purpose behind this chunk of history, because
whatever it may be that's leading the White House, the course of action to make it work is to shut
down people who are indefatigably focused on setting America's hair on fire. The agendas will
live long after this is in the archives. Even if the people who died in New York only had husbands
or wives, that number is roughly 6000. When you factor in the children, parents, Grandparents and
friends of those 6000, we'll probably never hear the head count of people who's lives were strip-
mined in that attack. Right now, I could care less about fat cats and basement business. Right now,
we don't have time to pretend we can stop the freight train to Weirdsville that is foreign policy. I
don't know about you, but most of us saw that day going down, and most of us get that the reason
it went down is that a small number of maniacal "leaders" have a large number of fanatical cave-
men convinced that killing people who eat pork gets them a backstage pass to Elysian Fields and
all the fermented mango juice and finger-cymballing 12 year-old belly dancing Betties they can eat.
Don't tell me it's not that simple. They prove it is every time they open their mouths.
Somebody said if you're not a democrat when you're a teenager, you have no heart; and if you're
not a republican when you're an adult, you have no brain. Lemme tell you something. If you're either
one, the only person you're kidding is yourself, and the only people you're serving are rich celebrity
history majors that not only know you're a sheep, they count on it.
Mr. Robbins has every right to be a fuck sandwich; the annoying part is that he and others
like him not only seem to believe they're teaching people something, they are also vigorously
participating in a defective uprising by a bunch of pan fried zealots that is solely based on the
ignorance and prejudice of an ancient and irrational religious practice that has a very real shot
at making the world my little neice will grow up in a pretty shitty place to have dinner. Not only
are the similarites to the age of gladiators and crucifictions being ignored by petition waving
party zombies like Sean Penn and the state of Vermont, suddenly- after four-plus decades on the
planet- they've decided it's a shameful crime that we haven't been providing our long suffering
Islamic neighbors the trinkets and toe-rings they need to effectively catch God's ear at the airport.
The radical left, whoever they might be, go out of their way to ignore the televised beheadings,
the kidnapping and/or murder of missionaries and journalists, the recruiting of children through
cartoons designed to brainwash and prejudice, the idea that women are property, the use of child-
ren as explosive devices, even the promise of perpetual attack unless we wise up and get on board.
And they don't seem to know that the people they think they're protecting wouldn't think twice about
using Nancy Pelosi's eyeballs for ice cubes. And why? The pulse of the nation, of course. And a lot of
the nation is so busy avoiding identity theft and programming their blue-ray music mind chip that the
brief glimpses they get of the war on tv leads them to believe some party spin about the state of the
conflict.
The cold truth is that if 99% of Americans were totally behind stopping the insanity of the extreme
muslim faction even if it means cleaning their clock, Hillary Clinton would be waving the war flag as
high as everyone else, because that would be where the votes are. Do people really not get this?
It's astonishing.
I don't believe for a second that Bush does anything agenda free. For the super-rich, that stuff
is in the handbook. People at the top of the political food chain prop up dangerous governments
and cash in on chaos; it's part of the game. Both parties make my skin crawl, but the right wing
seem to be the ones that understand that this monkey see, monkey do enemy is too prehistorically
motivated, and too mindlessly determined, to ever quit. They see this as the final showdown, and
they are not going anywhere. Right now, people- at this moment- there's a room full of these mud
hut maniacs composing a plan to kill a batch of filthy Americans. It doesn't matter who. And if they
wont stay in their own yard, as profoundly tragic as it is, our only hope of avoiding having to deal
with this shit for the rest of our lives is paving their playground. They've seen what most of the rest
of the world has learned, and it's unlikely that the far middle wing teaching them to use a can opener
is gonna soothe the savage breast. Unlike Ted Nugent's virgin boiling rain doctor, they know there
is a more civilized world. They're just not interested.
Nobody could quote John Lennon- or Alex Harvey- as much as I do and still sleep at night after even
considering war as an answer. It's not. I don't believe for one second a political victory behind war has
ever been a human one. But I'm not an idiot, and it would be a lie to suggest war has never resulted in
a residual human victory. That doesn't mean war works; it means that sometimes, in spite of mankinds
best efforts to make the life experience as impossibly shitty as we can imagine, the right thing seems to
rise from the ashes. Often this right thing is simply keen hindsight, which is certainly potentially curative
but never, obviously, the initial objective. But sometimes the right thing is liberty itself, and let's let reason
ring; nobody even bordering sanity can submit a rational treatise on the evils of human freedom.
I don't know a goddamn thing about the Jewish religion, the Muslim religion, or even the Catholic
religion, and don't want to; as I've said, it's pretty hard to take this stuff seriously when it's most respected
minds think dumb hats and gruesome trinkets are important realities in the Divine Plan. It means less
than nothing to me what you pray for or how you pray for it, in part because it seems unlikely to me that
the Higher Power needs your insight on how next week oughta turn out; but more tangibly because it's a
hell of a lot more convenient for me to stay out of your spiritual jumping jacks than it is to worry about it.
I do think prayer for others is an example of peoples finer tilt; in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous
(a great read even if you haven't tasted wine since religious people sliced off your foreskin so the guy in the
bad hat can give you the passcode to the Pearly Gates parking garage), it's suggested the purpose of prayer
is only to ask for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry it out, which so far is the best argument
for practicing prayer that I've come across.
Simply, the spiritual quest of the aborigine next door means nothing to me. I'm just not interested in a take
on time and space from people who are apparently easy with swallowing the silliest kind of caveman bongo
banging whiplashery. My neighbor can burn all the incense, ting all the triangles and boil all the tree bark his
hunger for salvation commands if it doesn't use up all the hot water in the building and delay my shower.
Because that's how freedom works, and because that just makes sense.
John Lennon said "God is a concept by which we measure our pain". I would argue, if he wanted to
debate it (which I doubt), that God is also an excuse. Not in the scheme of things past or to come, but in the
human mind. There is one reason and one reason only that those indulging the weirdest religious practices
on the planet cannot exist in harmony with those who do not practice religion at all: because one of these two
groups are indulging the weirdest religious practices on the planet. The place you are most likely to find "God"
alive, well and on the clock is in the dark and horrible cavern of human stupidity and fear. It isn't the pro-choice
crowd that's bombing anti-abortionists, and it ain't agnostics that are strapping bombs to their children and treating
women like diseased chickens. These are the mindsets of fanatics and lunatics, and there ain't a psychiatrist on the
the planet with a big enough couch to work through the problem. It's these maniacs for whom God is an excuse, or
worse, a weapon. They are the predictable result of living by ancient religious ritual in a modern age; in terms of
snake handlers like the taliban- one example- these practices promote stupidity and psychopathy. Because these
extremists are exclusively male dominated, violence and megalomania are textbook reactions to any theoretical
challenge. Because these extremists are hyper-religious male dominants, their version of taking their ball and
going home by statute has to feature some hats, some swords, and of course, some exposed and bleeding gizzards.
There are few things more dangerous than a megalomaniac under the impression somebody has figured out he's
completely full of shit.
I once said if the world in which we live is comfortable with the fact that revolutionaries can own birdcages
without losing an hour of sleep, someone isn't telling the truth. What I meant was simpler...
who are you fucking people?
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
A MOSTLY COLDER SUN_________________________________________________________________
"Its a tug of war. Though I know I mustn't grumble."
-Paul McCartney
__________________________________________________________________________________
Leave it to the new strain of coffee torn shoppe sweater liberals to fuck up an ecology movement.
Choppy chin hair and a "Go Green" t-shirt may pass for new ways of thinking to people who own Oasis
records, but you should know that smart freaks laughed when Johnny Rotten snarled "Never trust a
hippie" because we knew what he meant. Look, if you wanna let Al and Tipper Gore lead you to a
cooler future, lace up those earth boots. Me, I'm not getting in line behind anybody who took Judas
Priest seriously.
It will be a wonderful thing if your great great grandchildren inherit a planet that still has polar ice
caps, even if the experts determine their biggest advantage is that they make pretty screensavers
and bears like 'em.
But if you're losing sleep because Al Gore says San Franciscans should stockpile aqualungs, you're
confusing politics with postulating. Lemme tell you something. If Mr. Gore had wound up in the oval
office, the number of white house backstage passes would be the same. Only the recipients would
change. America is the hippest game in town, and that's just a fact. But no one that might read this
has ever voted for a politician that has anything to do with that.
It's never a bad thing when people with influence bring attention to something advantageous to the
masses. Just don't imagine Mr. Gore's concerns are wingless. The fucker would torch every tree in
Tacoma if he knew it would put a democrat in the drivers seat. There are plenty of reasons global
warming oughta be in the paper. Selling Al Gore DVD's ain't one of them.
If every young 'un in the nation bought a Pearl Jam record and marched for wiser light bulbs, and we had
time for it, no one would like it more than I would. But America has a weird problem with "movements".
The participants become an island. It's us against them before the paint on your protest sign is dry. And
if in time your cause- assuming it's a good one- makes it all the way to a segment on the Oprah Winfrey
show, you've just graduated to pushing tampons and toilet wands like every other lip gloss lemmings
in a limousine. Normally, that would just be blog fodder. But until we figure out how to get the God
people to stop cutting off heads between prayer meetin's, it's attention we can't spare. And as long
as we can power a Who concert with Al Gore's back-up generator, you're never gonna convince me
he's anything more than another expensive blue suit.
THE AGORACHRISTIAN PANTY CIRCUS HALF-MOON PARACHUTE COWBOYS OF DESTINY
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Leave it to the new strain of airbrushed conservatives to fuck up a military action. Still, unless Mr. Gore
accidentally proves the answer to Middle Eastern bloodlust is a colder sun, smacking those people around
makes a hell of a lot more sense than drawing up new contracts, because they wont take them seriously
even if we bend and let them be signed in chicken blood during the Holy Half Moon. Paint me a river of
tears about liberty; as long as these savage psychopaths are gonna argue that cutting off American heads
is God's idea of taking care of business, reasonable human beings are gonna make the ugly call. This crap
sucks, in every imaginable way, and in even in ways that have managed to shock us. But the fact is, we're
debating foot baths in our airports as a show of religious tolerance, and they're stoning women to death
that are sick of wearing face masks. My G | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
