The Vote Joke

Chain yank day.  A lister and his mass mooning.  Water is a slow mover, like ozone, and glaciers, and acid rain.  Ignore the rules all around, mosquitos must die.  They must be demoralized, isolated, and suffocated.

Trials and courtrooms. Accused, but never convicted, the gonzo life.  This seems like a gulag experiment, and America seems cool with it.  Time for some new days, some new ways, and a new phase.  Ruler rules, the easiest of all rules to break.

Send this poll back, make it indicate something else, need it by Sunday.  The tabulators are fine, they tabulate in perfect math, decimal here, ratio there.  Code, code, checker board.  The vote joke.  It's on you.

On This Day

 

Ain't no smiles around here no more.  Despondency and resolution, the quiet skies.  Mysterious brown vans and evacuations, cheering in the Arab streets.  Grounded at zero, the liberty show must go on, music must prevail.  Taps.

Tyrants always denounce tyranny with their forked tounges.  Deception is a virtue in their twisted heads, they slur hollow, self-righteous words.  They wrap themselves in false glory.  It always ends the same, without exception.  Ugly.

Quit talking during God Bless America, Max Headroom.  Shut your face, quiet!  The politicians sully the day, the racial spoon must stir something always, they should be muted on this day.  Let America reflect on its own, let America remember in peace, with righteous rage, leave America alone.  On this day.

That Little Devil Whispering

 

Toss out the independent minds, things can't be thought.  Thinking could take us off the path, rationality has already been considered.  That letter won't do nothing.  Mash it in a boiling pot of potatoes, the scum floats to the top, this is Harvard's doing.  Empty are your degrees, lame are your decrees.

Research in the name of hatred, enabled by envy and greed.  Dividing tools of hell.  That little devil whispering in your ear, freedom is an old idea, freedom is not your choice.  A new freedom list will be updated every Friday.  No time for questions today.

The Shame Of Kabul.  Dusty brain rot, the skin greaser.  Color yourself pale grey, plug the head follicles with modern plugs.  Get some new teeth, you can't chew up America with those gums.  We won't hear you.  Freedom Of Mute shall never be denied, as the old saying goes.

Paper Skin

 

Economic access is double edged.  Drink this poison of leverage and speculation, the slow killer.  Captured addictions and routines, expectations and equity.  Invest in it all, stay busy.  Project, influence, hustle.

Squash the privileged, they are privileged, dangit!  How easy they breathe, how luxurious they eat, how much fun they have, how they are adorned.  We've seen the ads.  They are smiling.  How dare those little devils smile.

Smirkers are not allowed around here, the smirked can't take it.  Dishers, whiney dishers.  They got no take.  They got paper skin, thin and brittle.  The weakest kind of skin.

The Quarantine Bar

 

Hung out at the Quarantine Bar last night.  Lots of weary, bored travelers.  All wrapped in bubble wrap.  Keep everything wrapped up tight, for protection of the wrapped, and others.  Couldn't really hear much, but it was good nodding and waving, gesturing, pointing.  Better that the Quarantine Box.

Nothing but WiFi and four walls.  A makeshift toilet next to a makeshift sink.  Small refrigerator, a mini microwave, and a little portable camping burner.  Food items delivered every other day by the Quarantine Security Officers (QSOs).  Their mission, they keep telling us, is to protect, feed, and release clean.

Slipped one of them a hundred to bring me an extra sleeve of soda crackers and a jar of Vegemite.  Amazing how easily a QSO can be bribed.  I was flush with vacation cash.  Dumb Suckers.  They'll miss me when I test out. 

That Marble Drip

Writing the truth in the middle of the messy show.  Books of the shadows, within the words, in form, the equal and greater reaction to the cheap illusions.  Bought for nothing, they sought it out, they craved.  Through boredom, through envy, through greed.  It doesn't matter, they took the bait.


And the literal bullshit is coming, cows must be done away with, their slaughter must end.  We got almonds for milk, we got the beef cooked up in the labratory.  According to sources, it's a bit rubbery, but tasty.  I'll trust what sources say, my grandparents were ranchers, gotta have that ribeye texture, gotta have that marble drip.

Days of hot sun and motorcycle jumps, huge noon lunches with gravy on the side, cold soda pops in the afternoons, sweets late at night.  Orchards and gardens that produced.  Burn outs and skids, workshops and barns.  Big fields and woods and mesquite trees. Tanks.

His Standard Rate

Declare victory from the scenes of treason.  The dirty dog, who leaves the war dogs behind.  Along with the women and children, along with the guns, along with the choppers, along with the hummers.  This demoralization is complete, we are demoralized no longer.  We are lit.

The incompetent move aside, these 13 should be alive.  Roll your eyes, bastard.  Laugh it off, slime.  You are not courageous, you are not a hero, but you got serious nerve.  Seriously, you got some sick nerve.

Shuffle on, groper.  Slur some more.  Drool on your mask, comb the oily strands of hair back.  Ten percent of the buck stops with the big guy.  His standard rate.