jpaulgorman

  The art was empty, void of creativity and void of cool.  Nothing could be seen beyond 3 shades of purple.  Dark purple to spoil, purple purple to make it rain, and of course, the insecure, envious shade of lavender, the weakest shade, the shade with no soul, the flimsy shade.  No heart art is all purple is, ugly art.  Boring art. Not worth the price, not worth the time, not worth the attention.  Port-A-Potty art, complete with flies on stink.  Bad breath art, stay 10 feet away.  Soft art, you catch the drift.  Blank art, like it's not even there.  Loser art, the kind that doesn't matter. Let others paint with purple.  Let others admire its lameness.  Let others fall for its scam.  Let others chase its bland tint.  Let others care about purple.

  While the young die, the old congratulate themselves and claim courage.  For geopolitical reasons or some other crucial and brave action.  The money men and women make hawkish or doveish remarks and are hailed as fighters, so brave to rip everyone off as they're ripping them off.  Takes gall, grease, and guns, these are dirty people. Created a dung dynasty right before our eyes.  Full of debauchery and shameless souls.  Built on the backs of pigment pimps, like the pigment pimps of the past.  No surprise, the High Tech Lyncher leads them.  His brain decayed long ago of rot thoughts, his hands crave the grope, his nose knows a good rejuvenating conditioner when it sniffs one. All this is known, the real suckers are the suckers; the following, wallowing mass of whiners, blinders, and five-and-dimers.  The poor ole me's, the weak in the knees, the tics and fleas, the pricks and sleaze.  Glowing heads in baby beds, agents, officials, and...

  Yep, free and clear, on our own.  Nobody to say nothing about nothing, nobody to tell, nobody to point.  A good reminder in the middle of summer.  Imaginations running wild, a disaster around every corner, a price tag on each one.  Shake, shake, shake it down, sway over here, moonwalk over there. Closing the government, trading markets, and banks is the least we should do.  Take a break from the games, trivial and lame.  Hydrate, do what you want, meditate, free up your mind.  The clutter is stuck to your brain transistors, the gruel is self-induced, the confusion is intentional.  Thoughts that soak are thoughts that float. No trifling, no pity, no shame.  A reminder of the sound of chains, let my people go.  The demand of our nation.  Freedom is cheap now, it's free, it's ours to take.  Paid in full.

>>Comparison of Used Cars and Used Dads.  A lot in common... ^^Used Dads are beat up, dented, scratched, scarred, and sputtering. ^^Worn out, worn in, broken, smoking, and hoping.  "Lord, just get me there." ^^Used Dads are familiar with rejection and neglect, it's an important skill.  Some sit idle for months, years even. ^^Bad spark plugs, cracking belts, bubbling tint, dents, missing rims, and bald tires. ^^The golf course is the junkyard of Used Dads, not many New Dads around.  ^^Used Dads have great stories--roadkills, hydroplanes, burnouts, bugs, skid marks. ^^ No big deal being a Used Dad, nothing that can't be replaced, or fixed up, or taped up, or polished up, or waxxed up.  Or, ignored. ^^Run long enough and a Used Dad might become a classic.  Find himself in a parade.  Live in a garage. 

  The people with no courage were easy to identify.  They were the loudest, but they were the weakest and the whinyest.  They showed their ass over and over.  Without end.  Buttholes, basically. They stuttered cliches and spit when they talked.  They denounced pigment color and hated men for some reason.  Even the men with no courage hated men, a twisted mind fuck if there ever was one.  So twisted, people everywhere started cutting off their private parts at a record pace.  Even worse, licensed doctors actually did the cutting. "Whatever," I said, "And nevermind, too."  Nirvana is in your own mind.  Your own thinking is enough, courage follows conviction and conviction is created by knowing.  Courage is handling the truth. You knows what you knows, light's a cold blooded truth teller.

  'What if it was true' fuels the charade, the boogie story, the shutter, shutter, shutter.  Land of the ruled, home of the cowards.  We tilted over, we took on water, the life boats were deployed, the captain is nowhere around.  Jumped ship way back, I ain't sinking to the bottom.  Went cast away, went floating, saving my life for some other final fate. Not here, not now, not like this, all the sellouts making out.  Walking among the ruins, all teeth, all glitter, all rot.  It was imaginary all along, the Yankee Doodle Dandy.  It was blah, blah, blah.  There is no Spirit Of '76 left, the scoundrels have sucked it dry. A liberated mind thinks it out, hysterics and hope have no place.  Hissy fits are for chumps with dust in their eyes.  Outrage is for maniacs addicted to mania.  Conclude what you will, not what you're told, the mush has no taste.  Trendy is out, as always.

  Like a bolt, the truth gets out.  Tell it like it is, tell it like it was, the past tense is appropriate, unfortunately.  The old way was better, respect and taboos, dignity and shame.  God or country?  It's no contest, line up the fools, the patriot parade is over there on the patriot parade field. Any union must be both ways, the governed and the government, implicit trust and light, to the end, without escape, without injury, without betrayal.  By the book, out of the grey areas and mushy middle.  Have some courage, these proxies are for cowards and tools.  The downside must be harsh, otherwise, it's too easy to abuse power.  Might end up funding a dubious Eastern European War or might solicit bribes or might become a pigment pimp. Our baseball is boring.  Our apple pie is sour.  Our Chevrolets suck.  Let's be real, reality ain't taboo no more.  Nothing is.

Pride, pride, pride, pride, pride.  Aww man, such a complicated emotion.  Too much, you get full of yourself; too little, you get run over.  Given or received is what matters, solicited or unsolicited is critical, look at me, look at her, look at him, look at Jim, look at slim, point, point.  It's exhausting, Francis. Make your parents proud, dangit.  Be what they want you to be, and more importantly, what they don't want you to be, either way, or both ways.  Keep the embarrassment down, don't embarrass your parents, for God's sake and the sake of other possible supernaturals.  Pride is dignity in a way, protect your own, don't act a fool.  Don't be a dick. Flags, schmags. Who cares about a flag?  Burn em, churn em, get em off the poles.  Flags never done nobody no good ever, can't remember a flag doing anything for anybody, mainly shouting and shooting and scamming.  Never follow a flag, it's not worth your pride, it's not worth ...