Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Tragic Frozen Tree

JG Tree

Tragic frozen tree,
Will bough break with heavy ice
Forgetting Spring's warmth?

From The Haiku Monk

Monday, October 17, 2016

How To Be A Bored Billionaire

FW Building8

Good deeds won't get you into Heaven.
- Proverb

Budget about an hour's time to get from Dallas to Fort Worth. Unless, of course, you're trapped in the living hell of rush hour, the most concrete proof yet of the futility of capitalism. No free people would choose to live like that. But it's only assholes like me who get to call the shots in a world of sheep and sycophants. And nobody I know is going to change a damn thing. Anyway, don't know how I got off on that tangent. But am I the only one who sees we're on a sinking ship?

Fort Worth is where I go to hide. Who or what from? Well, nothing and nobody to tell the truth. It's just the idea of someone looking for me. Their intentions can not possibly be honorable. Sometimes I just feel exposed here in Dallas, like I'm walking around with me fly open. At this point I've pretty much separated from everyone I used to hang with. I'm tired of hearing the same old arguments, same old fears, same old same ol'. Think what you will, bitches.

One thing I can't help is rotating through my cars. I like to drive and I like different experiences. I guess you could call me a car womanizer. A trip to Fort Worth allows me to do a fair bit of driving without ever leaving the comforts of civilization. But if I'm not trying out a new car I'll go full incognito: Honda CR-V, jeans and sneakers. Just an ordinary slob! Takes away the worry of someone sucking up to my many millions hoping they'll get a slice. It's way more obvious than you think, folks.

Hides Cowtown chic

Turns out traffic bit me even with driving in midday so I turn off I-30 north on Beach which I knew was a major thoroughfare. Since downtown Fort Worth was blocked off I decided to try Belknap instead which is a good back door. First I had to pull over into some tool rental place parking lot and text the real estate guy I was going to meet. When I did, I heard the most god-awful grinding sound like I'd never heard before.

This part of east FW is very much lower working class. I was glad I wasn't in an Aston Martin wearing my Bontoni shoes. So when I looked up and saw this rundown burgundy two-door car stopped on the street I wasn't surprised as I noticed the driver's side front wheel had literally fallen off, sitting slanted outward from the disabled car. Jesus Christ, what a day from hell that must be. Then I thought I might do something good even though I am not good.

These sort of situations from the outside you would think would be clear cut but a million things race through your mind. Your first instinct is always live and let die. But another part says we're all in this together. And still another part wonders of your true motives. That's a lot of headwinds to fight through as I approached the stranded vehicle with its hazard lights flashing in the middle of the street.

"This is for you. A man inside said for me to give it to you."

It was a black kid and he was naturally suspicious. I had to be quick with my lie.

"What's this?" He fondled the sealed envelope and checked it front to back.

"Search me. I'm just bringing it out like this guy asked. Some guy in a suit in that Sunbelt Rental building." Bite, dammit, bite!

He tore it open to find it full of hundred dollar bills. It amounted to ten thousand but he had no way of knowing that.

"You gotta be kidding me. This some kind of set up?"

"You'll need to go inside to ask that. Hey, if you don't want it..."

He moved the envelope away from me, smiling and grateful as hell and even shook my hand. I felt a bit guilty about lying about the source so I ran back to my car and got away fast as I could. I'll never know if he tried to go inside and find the mystery donor. That's a tad frustrating but I couldn't take the chance of feeding a stray animal and having it come back to me over and over.

Square 2
Sundance Square

So I didn't have the earnest money for the real estate guy when I met him. With no cash and dressed in my crap clothes I was cursing my good deed that stripped me of credibility. The real estate in question is an abandoned garage building I found near the very hip 7th street that connects downtown to the uber hot museum district. I'd passed by it before and made a mental note of it and thought what a great place it would be to stash some cars and to have some in FW as well as Big D. Life can never be too convenient!

One of the great things about Fort Worth is their love to keep their heritage which gives it a vastly different feel than crush-and-rebuild Dallas. One of the apartment complexes on 7th refurbished an old Firestone Tire store and use that for their leasing center. Taking a cue from them, I'm going to refurbish this garage as if it were a working garage from the thirties or something. I'll do some of my own research before I throw it over the fence to an architectural firm. This'll be a real fun assignment for somebody.

So that makes two good deeds, I guess (or at least something that can be considered constructive). I don't want to be stuck being Pharaoh going around making - or refurbishing - buildings because I simply have nothing real to do, but I see now that's exactly what I will be without true purpose. Damn.

Garage 1
See the potential in this? I could make it part of the retro-cool scene!

I have various places in Fort Worth to stay according to my mood. One is a fabulous B and B I found called Etta's place cater-cornered from the famed Reata restaurant where you can dine on their rooftop and watch the flashing lights of downtown (but watch out for the reflecting sun in late afternoon!). Etta comes from the name of the traveling companion to Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid whose gang stopped in Fort Worth to have their picture taken, hence Sundance Square being the featured place of downtown Fort Worth.

I liked Etta's unique rooms so much I have one permanently reserved. There's a private courtyard that's just magical on a cool workday morning listening to the slaves hump it on the streets outside, like being in your mother's womb. I also like views from on high when it suits me so I bought a condo in the Omni tower at the other end of downtown. Great storm watching up there! My third place is from a set of townhouses off 7th I saw being constructed that I really liked. That's my private place.

Easy place to miss, which I also like

Reata Reata

FW Building4
I almost never stay in new hotels

FW Building3
What new hotel would have this??

FW Building5
There is some new stuff, though

You know, I went on the lam to San Francisco for a while without telling anyone. I figure there are two places to blend in if you have money: there and New York. I just barely have a billion. Those places have multi multi-billionaires (so does Dallas, technically). I wanted to check out the geek crowd and get away from these oil assholes and their radical right wing world view. I thought SFers would all be walking around with Spock ears and phasers but not so.

The geeks are sort of considered an occupying force by many and the geeks themselves live in this fantasy world of everyone competing to be Steve Jobs. Problem is, not even Steve Jobs was Steve Jobs - or the image of who they believe he was. There's this whole technological religion/myth they seem to think will supersede Nature. You can see the excitement in their eyes and hear it in their voices. It's the dying of the light in the world.

I returned home feeling only more useless and empty. I woke up the other night covered in sweat from a bad dream (as happens more and more). The directors of my company demanded I become involved or they'd quit. They said I couldn't just keep on having everything for doing nothing. The night janitor called me "motherfucker" for no reason other than he knew my name. It was the end of the worldly charade. Oh, my.

Square 3

If I die, I want it to be in a place where I'm not known. That's why in my townhouse off 7th I have a Therapy Noose hanging from a second floor walkway railing. I get on a chair and place my neck in it and God, is it ever wonderful. Just kick the chair and all agony ceases. No more guilt or blind confusion or aching emptiness or lies. It's my only place of hope. I can't stand being around the rich crowd. I'm not capable of any sort of career. And I don't belong with the cool people like the Woman Of Fabric. I'm so, so tired of killing time. It's time I killed me.

Friday, October 14, 2016

A Junkie's Voice Is Never Heard

No child is safe from adult hate

[Joseph had only one certainty in his life: That of all the things God may or not be, or could be or should be, or will do or won't do, he knew with absolute certainty God did not give a single, solitary shit about him.]

"Get in the corner you goddam piece of shit! You're the most useless piece of shit I've seen in my everlovin' life. Goddam, why do I have to have a pussy bitch like you for a son? "Queer bait, motherfucker". Is that what they called you? Maybe I ought to give them your address so you can't hide and get your goddam ass beat like you goddam deserve!

The alleged father paused to wipe the spit from his mouth.

"Keep your nose against the wall! I want everyone to see what a worthless piece of shit you really are. No girl is going to want you EVER. What did I do to deserve a failure like you? How am I supposed to face my friends when they hear about what a complete loser you are? Running your ass home hiding in the closet. Maybe you'd be better off dead. Maybe we'd both be better off with you dead!

"What's that? You trying to speak? Who the hell gave you goddam permission to speak, you little shit? Nothing that comes out of your mouth can possible have any value. Oh, look. Now he's going to cry! Cry like the little bitch you are. Goddam, I'm sick of you! You'll never amount to anything. You know why? Because you are nothing! Do you hear me, boy? NOTHING!"


Joseph never finished high school. He drifted in and out of fast food jobs, Walmart stocking, factory production work. He never could keep a job because someone was always "out to get me." Fear kept his chronic chase alive and he kept running. In his permanently rattled state, when he reached into the pantry to pull something out a can of beans fell on his foot. Joseph yelled at the can.

"Goddam you! I can't believe you did that! Stupid fucking shit can! Who the hell needs you?"

He grabbed it and slung it across the room of his tiny apartment. When he saw the dent it made in the wall, he cursed it again. "Asshole!"

Joseph lived up to everything his father said, fulfilling expectations. Every bone in his body wanted to die - deserved to die. His veins surged with a raging rage of frustrated emotion giving no quarter. To talk to someone was suicide: then they'd know who he is. They would yell at him all over again just like his father. To feel good alone was impossible. Then one day he found a friend.
There is nothing on this planet more euphoric than sticking a needle into my vein, watching the blood register like a snake slithering quietly before it strikes its prey, slowly pushing down on the plunger, feeling the warmth moving up into my shoulder, exploding into a head-to-toe rush the instant the white liquid hits my heart. It’s without a doubt, a hundred times more exhilarating than that millisecond right before you explode in a massive orgasm.
I’m in love. Nothing can stop me from getting heroin. I will rob you. I will manipulate you. If my mouth is moving, I am lying. I don’t care who you are or what kind of history we had together. You are nothing to me. Heroin is my god.


"I'm going to tell you how much I really care - right after second breakfast."

"What do mean there isn't any? There has to be, you motherfucker!" But no matter how hard Joseph begged, the heroin could not be made to magically appear. He'd been living for this moment, dying for the escape that sets him free. But it was not to be.

His apartment took the brunt of it. "Goddamit to hell! I did everything I was supposed to! I got the goddam money! Now be there for me!" He grabbed his pillow, screaming curses into it to muffle himself so the neighbors didn't pound on his door like before. But whatever he did in his life, it was not enough. Everything Joseph needed was beyond his control, helplessly eating him alive. No one had time for him. No one had room for him in their life. No one knew or cared he even existed. Goddam piece of shit, as expected.

Too terrified to ever get a driver's license, Joseph had no idea what he was doing when he jumped into the running car at the convenience store. All he thought about was trading it on his next fix. All he felt was uncontrollable rage at his life ruled by forces out of his control. All he cared about was stopping the pain. It didn't take long in his crazed, speeding outing to crash, T-boned into the driver's side door killing him. But before that he'd hit a pedestrian, so the deaths were two.

"I hope you're goddam happy, God!"

Standing with the parents of the dead pedestrian, the politician made hay under the blinding sun, salivating as he always did when able at last to appear morally superior. "We stand here today with three more victims of illicit drugs. Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher grieve their innocent son killed by a crazed junkie. We must put an end to this if we are to be safe. We need harsher laws, harsher sentences if we are to remove this scourge from society. Once we make the penalties strong enough, they'll stop ingesting these hideous drugs, believe me. Let's take a stand together and lock up every user until none are left to roam our streets!"

The Judas Paradigm

"Don't let them kill you!"

Judas asked that this conversation be held away from the others even though they were to be a group without secrets. Jesus complied.

"You said to enjoy the light of the world and I do. It's wonderful and euphoric and bliss. It's a debt I can never repay and this feeling of gratitude I have knows no bounds. But something happened at the temple today."

"Tell me."

"When you were cleaning up the temple and throwing out the money people I thought it was hilarious and healing and was laughing riotously. To show we can live free of money was so liberating I thought everyone would join in and celebrate. Instead, a furious fellow grabs my shoulder from behind and begins to berate me for laughing. At first, for the life of me, I couldn't imagine why."

Jesus was well-versed in the arguments of the world but asked what the man said.

"He said I was jeopardizing his banking livelihood and the lives of his family. He said that's no joking matter and that he found my laughter highly offensive. His face was boiling red and his eyes murderous."

"And what did you say to him?"

"I was speechless. He was a man so deceived he sided with the false hope of money, as if that would save him and not doom him. He didn't trust any of your actions or stop to ask the truth of your beliefs. He said you were a madman who must be stopped, that you suffer from "unrealistic idealism" and are a member of the "professional left" who do nothing but criticize."

"Do you believe any of that to be true?"

"It's absurd, a complete perversion of reality. But I can see now if you keep pushing they will kill you. It's been bothering me for some time and I've finally been forced to face it."

"What would you have me do?"

"Don't let them kill you. Don't let them take the light out of the world. If you stay, in time they will be forced by the light to see the folly of their ways and we can live in peace and harmony like we want. Is that not the goal?"

"We must let Nature take its course to keep ourselves free."

"But that too leads to death. Life must have meaning! Life must have a point. If the light in the world cannot be allowed to exist then there can be no life. So why be put into a doomed situation? Why even create us to begin with?"

"Have I not spoken of the divine intervention to come? Of the time when tears are no more? Your love will not be wasted, do not do like most and deny yourself the gifts that you deserve. I can see that man broke your heart today. But do not abandon life because fools rule the world."

Believe they have won in both Heaven and on earth,
will be educated otherwise

"To abandon you has never crossed my mind. But I thought your words were so self-evident and your joy so overpowering there was no way we could lose. All that has been accomplished: the miracles that changed our consciousness forever, this conquering truth that has been unleashed - and you will let them kill you? This I cannot accept. You ask too much."

"But where do you think the future lies? Not in this world but in Heaven. The Light will not cease. The future remains the same. Have you not listened to the good news?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Then rejoice we are not limited by the darkness of this world that must one day perish forever. We'll be living as brothers in the Light, of our own free will. You know this to be true."

"I thought that was what we were accomplishing now. Can we not win both here and in Heaven?"

"Judas, my friend, you were born with more faith than rest of the others combined. You also have no faith whatsoever. You must pick which kingdom you choose to serve."

As is well known, Judas sought refuge in the world, not the Word. He went to the religious leaders as they were posed (falsely) to represent God in this world and pleaded with them to "wake up" Jesus and not let him be killed. Judas hoped that when faced with such mealy-mouthed and murderous men Jesus would alter course - just as he had. The elders assured Judas they too did not wish to see Jesus die and would ensure he did not endanger himself.

This put Judas in a giddy (though still uneasy) state. He would have his cake and eat it too! The money he got was a fig leaf for his motives, to convince the elders he was a man of the world like they so they could trust him. Judas thought he was being slick but the elders were laughing at him all along - for they knew they were not to be trusted. This fool Judas would serve as their useful idiot. At last one of Jesus's own would renounce him! This was the break they'd been waiting for.

When Judas watched Jesus be turned over to the death sentence that was the Romans, he was terror stricken, disillusioned as to the self-fulfilled prophecy he'd just achieved. "If only I had kept my mouth shut! Now I'm left with nothing, separated from what and whom I love!" He flung the useless coins aside and found the nearest hanging branch, literally drowning in the irony that everything he had done, he'd done in the name of not making his life unbearable.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

How To Remove Putin From Power

NOTE: This is an intellectual exercise only.

Morons always support other morons

"It takes a village of idiots to elect the village idiot."

It's easy to blame the bad guy at the top for a nation's ills. And it's unquestionable among the knowing that Putin is both a betrayer and traitor to his country. But who do we have to blame for that situation? The Russian people as a whole. With the fall of the wall, a chance was given for a new direction. Instead, oppression only morphed into a new form, just as with the revolution of 1917. Damn.

Russia has self-sabotage ingrained deep in her psyche. In this world, there will always be those who desperately seek to take advantage of a situation for they have given themselves no legitimate way to life. Russia wallows in the darkness of her self-pity like a hog in mud. Yes, one hates the mud but eventually must claim to love it to deflect from one's foolish choice. Next thing you know people are muttering at what an enigma you are when really you just want out of the fucking mud.

So just like in our illegal and immoral invasion of Iraq, removing the monster at the top only worsens the situation. Same would be true of Putin. Jackals are just waiting in the wings to swoop in at the merest hint of a power vacuum. That would not lead to an improvement in conditions. Like I said, that must come from the grass roots, from the people themselves.

Forces of light

It's been written that Russians love a "strong man" for a leader - but only if it's a lie. Russia loves to constantly claim she is being persecuted by enemies who are the cause of her woes. This truly is one of her favorite pastimes. They know it's a fiction but it's fun. The idea of real enemies and real harm terrifies the Vodka out of them, just like when Stalin crawled into a bottle at the beginning Germany's invasion in WWII.

Same is true for the "strong man" myth. They really like crybabies like Putin, partly because it allows them to feel morally superior to the head bitch and partly because it's less threatening for someone to be role-playing a strong man than actually be one. It really is sort of a collectively sad symphony. But how to make the music stop? Assassinate Putin, of course.

Now, I've taken a vow of non-violence even though the impulse to assassinate is still there. The horrible, terrible solution is the age old one of waiting for the justice of God. But there are those who correctly believe we were not put here to suffer. Acting out of that conviction, one can be guided to continue life by killing the killers. Those people are very, very rare, though.

To effectively remove Putin, he must be made to look weak. If that could happen through outside pressure causing him to publicly blink before the Russian people, that would be sweet. One could argue that Russia's escalation of its Syrian involvement is to hide her economic woes of running out of money. And as we all know, money is a gun and politics is knowing when to pull the trigger. But for the sake of argument we'll assume no outside pressure will cause Putin's demise.

So that takes us back to assassination. For Putin to be killed it would definitely be a blow to the Russian psyche. Daddy is always supposed to win! It would give them pause and reflection. How much reflection would be determined by the manner of the moron's death. For this, I would suggest poison.

Exiled Russian Alexander Litvinenko was poisoned by Putin by way of one of his temper tantrums that someone didn't like him. The obtaining of that poisonous radiation particle could only have been done by the state. To have the Russian leader die by his own sword would send a message of vast weakness, corruption, and ineptitude like shockwaves across the country. "We put our faith in that weakling??"

Put your faith in this Russian!

A healing hint of "We might ought to grow up some" would be planted in their minds. No more wholesale wallowing in negativity. "Maybe life is better than we give it credit for." That sort of sober thinking would disallow future Putins or Stalins from rising to power ever again. And who knows, one step in the right direction could lead to more and more.

The problem comes in executing the act itself. It cannot be done by anti-Putin forces nor those who say they are doing it for Mother Russia when really they serve only themselves. It would have to be a completely selfless act, done by someone whose convictions are stronger than those of Putin's. Otherwise you end up with the boondoggle like in the failed attempts at killing Castro and Hitler. One must be in accordance with the universe or run into what the deceived call "bad luck."

Does this person even exist in our corrupt world? Who knows. One thing I do know is we all have to answer for our sins sooner or later. God knows I have.

Monday, October 10, 2016

All The World's A Debate

I was on foot (as usual) walking along with Wilkins. It always feels so out of place to be without a car in these big shopping centers. Only good way to get here is by highway so everyone knows what a loser you must be to have humped your way over in the Texas sun. Then I look down over by the highway and see a car stopped with smoke rising from it - but no one was noticing or stopping.

I turned to Wilkins and said, "We better get down there. Looks like it's on fire."

"What for? I don't see a fire."

"Yeah, but there's smoke so something's on fire."

"So says you."

"Are you coming or not?"

"Hell, no. None of my business."

"What the...?" I mouthed to him as I ran down the slope. Wilkins yelled after me.

"You always want to play the hero."

Even if that's true, how does that dis-obligate one from helping? By the time I get there, a tall plump man had stopped his car and was standing there watching.

"We better get that girl out of there," I coaxed as he was clearly stronger.

"What for?"

Not this guy too! "Because the car could explode any minute."

"That's your world view, not mine. I don't subscribe to that sort of negative apocalyptic outlook."

"You idiot! This is physics, not philosophy!"

"Name calling won't help. I'll have you know politeness goes a long ways and you'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar. My grandmother always said -"

By this time I was struggling to get the stuck car door open. "Fuck your grandmother! Give me some goddam help!"

"I think you must be one of the worst people I ever met in my life! You have absolutely no sense of right or wrong!"

I was covered in smoke and sweat but my efforts were futile. "I don't know what to do..."

"Well, don't look at me, I'm an idiot."

It was then I noticed a crowd had gathered round and they burst into applause with the big idiot's response. "Touché! Great comeback!" "Such language! There's no place for rude people like that man." "It's easy to see who the responsible person is here."

Unable to open the door myself and with no one willing to help, I started to put some distance between me and a possible explosion. The big idiot pointed to me and said, "Look at him! Selfish bastard thinks only of himself!" The crowd started booing me.

"You better move away from the car. It could blow at any minute!"

"As I stated before: I'm an optimist! Everything is fine just the way it is. You keep on with your doom and gloom and see where it gets you."

Seeing an audience, a pollster showed up and having taken tally I did not get a single vote. That's when the car blew up, killing the idiot and the girl inside. A cop showed up asking what happened. The crowd was an eager informant.

"It was that guy there! See how he's covered in smoke? He was messing with that car and next thing you know it blows up. And he was cursing out that big dead guy there right before it happened. That self-serving bastard!"

I tried to explain to the cop but then he too declared me a self-serving bastard. Dragging me in handcuffs on the way to the squad car, the officer stopped to check with the pollster. "Will I get to keep my job?" The poll came back 100 percent 'Yes'. I was doomed.

I kept trying to explain myself on the way in to jail but all he would say is, "I have mouths to feed. I could care less what you have to say." Ah, yes, it's a beautiful world we've made.

In court, where the judge is presiding but the truth is not, I find presentation is everything. "Well, looky here at Mr. Orange Jumpsuit. He's killer-diller when he's dressed to the hilt."

I don't know what stunned me more: being reprimanded for my enforced jail wardrobe or the obscure Beatles reference (Fucking Baby-Boomers are in the positions of power now. Apparently they mistakenly think song references make them less assholes than the assholes they replaced.). My first instinct was to reply in kind and say, "Yes, you could say I was attractively built." Looking back, I should have considering all the good a "proper" response did.

"I didn't ask to be put in this jumpsuit! You people did it."

"I didn't ask - you people -", mocked the judge. "It's always somebody else's fault. You're never to blame. Well, I won't tolerate that behavior in my kangaroo court!"

At that point I just wanted to yell out, "YOU DICK!" At least that's what they heard in heaven. His Dishonor continued.

"Clothes make the man. I would never trust a man dressed like you. Without proper clothing a man is incapable of speaking truly. In that outfit it is impossible to win an argument."

I was even more shocked when the jury was seated as they too were all in orange jumpsuits. They were booing and hissing at me as they entered, a jury of my jeers. Lovely.

If debates were performed in clown outfits
would they still be as relevant?

When my attorney stood up all I could think of was the woeful absence of Emily's sanity-tethered presence as I sat there like a Ping-Pong ball bounced into outer space. "Your Honor, I wish to point out my new shoes: Bontoni Tancredi's, fresh from Stanley Korshak. They take ten weeks to make, handcrafted in Italy. I would argue they are the finest shoes in this courtroom."

"A very good argument!" applauded the judge happily.

My attorney looked at me and winked. "Your case is going well," he whispered. Then he looked at the judge and said: "The defense rests!"

WHAT?? Then I thought: Who knows? Maybe this kind of argument will "win" in a place where appearance trumps reality. One thing I knew for sure: Whomever wins the debate will be deemed the most moral.

I actually did feel a glimmer of hope as the opposing attorney looked down at his inferior shoes in dismay, worrying of his credibility. "No cross," he said, clearly sulking. "But the infallible institution of our state has evidence of its own!"

"First, I'd like to submit a photo of the girl who died in the car. As you can see, she is blonde-haired and blue-eyed!" The court gasped. "It's not like this monster killed a nigger or a Muslim. This is a white girl who counts: one of us!"

The court got rowdy but the judge did not even try to quiet the room. My lawyer shrugged. "It's the truth. Can't argue with that."

The State confidently continued, even allowing his crummy shoes to show. "I also have further evidence in these scientific journals that the moon revolves around the earth. I have expert witnesses lined up to verify this along with many Wiki articles. Does anyone dare deny this fact!"

I urged my arguer to object. "For God's sake, say it's not relevant." He told me that would only make it worse but I said do it anyway.

"Your Honor, I would like to be objectionable to that as to relevance."

"But it's the truth! Are you to say truth has no relevance in this courtroom? This is the church of truth! You don't want the truth because you can't handle the truth!"

It helps the jury decide when you come out pre-labeled

Then came the final nail in the coffin, the true crux of the matter. "Lastly, I'd like to point out no one else was near the car that exploded. This self-serving bastard in his hideous jumpsuit has laughably claimed he was trying to help but if that was true then what does that make the bystanders? Are you to tell me everyone else was wrong and only he was right? Does that sound reasonable and prudent? Are we to convict the world based on the word of an ill-mannered, ill-dressed man? That, sir, would be to invite chaos and destruction. If the glove fits you must convict!" Wilkins laughed.

It was then I noticed the jury was in fact made up of those very same bystanders on the highway. And that speech showed me they know the truth if only to rig the outcome of our debate. I got sentenced to fifteen years (the judge said it would have been twenty had the state had better shoes). What could I do? It's like I've always said: When people vote they always vote themselves to be Jesus. You can try to debate that with them if you please.

Sunday, October 09, 2016

Jobless Again, Naturally

"I say it here, it comes out there."

Perhaps you've heard of the World Economic Forum at Davos, Switzerland. It's where the alleged movers and shakers meet to collude in mutual self-delusion to set policy on such things as public masturbation, mass immolation, and shoe licking. The total tonnage of their ignorance could sink the universe. How effective it is seeking the approval of your fellow human to rot one's mind.

Dishonest words spoken in earnest fashion will not save the world - or me. Time has come for me to breathe the not-so-free air and rip off the chains of the world. My mind, my health, my sanity are on the verge of collapsing. I have to pray the streets cure me as in the past but every time my tolerance diminishes. I need rest on another planet.

On this planet I see no hope. For those of you who claim you've found freedom in chains, don't come bitching to me when they inevitably yank you and yours down the toilet. Those Davos devils will tell you why all the yanking is "necessary" as they wage violence through poverty. Alleged leftists and pseudo-liberals claim they are trying to make the system that inherently enslaves the world to be a just one. It's this delusion they are doing good that allows the conspiracy of evil to continue unabated.

Not even the richest man alive can afford to hear my screams as the rent collecting Terminator terrorizes me in nightmares. Why? Because he fears his own fate. It is the voices of the unheard who will determine our fate. Ignore them at your peril, suckers! Vote your goddam ass off. See if anything changes. Those Davos dummies are simply the end of the pipeline, like a windsock pointing the direction of a wind that's already blown.

Every day, every decision, every choice is a vote for something. Only in the Alley am I free. And yes, you fuckwads hate me for my freedom. It reminds you of what you've given up - and can't live without. It's not like I don't know the feeling too. It crushes me every time I hold down (or rather, am held down by) some crap job. Back and forth I oscillate like a yoyo, slowly succumbing to the life-ebbing friction.

Jobs are like having your head held under water. You can stay down only so long. But each time you come back up for air there's a little less of you. We the un-bribed suffer a long, drawn out death. Yet, our ranks are growing larger by the day. We the hopeless will tear down every single living institution, because, why not? Why prop up shit that only fucks you? Those who live their lives in comfort on the wage slaves below them will helplessly watch as that once blissful existence disintegrates right below their feet.

There is no doubt I live in fear. A life on the run is one of the worst forms of misery. PTSD sets in over time, jumping at every little noise. You can't remember what it's like to not hurt. My fellow inmates deal with this in all sorts of ways, from drugs to incarceration to obsequious supplication. The umbrella term is "mental illness". I've been diagnosed with multiple syndromes from my constant state of being perpetually broke, horny, and futureless - as would anyone.

The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.

CODA: The magic is gone from the air, only echoes from a parallel universe. Whatever spiritual bank account I'd been drawing upon is empty now. My chance to fix that died with Emily. In odd moments I find my heart pounding, perhaps because there's no place I can rest and the mental space in which I live keeps shrinking. What's the right move to make? Is there even a move left to make? All I see are the angry hordes roaming the countryside looking for blood. Just a matter of time before no one's safe.

Sunday, October 02, 2016

Aw, Shoot!

Most of us never stray too far from the daily bubble world we know. But when forced into the streets such as I, one comes across a variety of characters that inevitably challenge your world view (which is why we avoid them in the first place!). It's up to you how to deal with them.

"Hey, It's Mr. Do-Gooder! How's it going?"

"I'm so frustrated!"

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you! Sympathy is so rare for me."

"Sympathy for the do-gooder," I mumbled.

"I see so many people doing the wrong thing when the right thing is so obvious! We've got to set these people straight."

"Indeed! Something must be done!"

"My thoughts exactly! This world needs saving!"

"But what can you do?"

"I document their dastardly deeds in my blog while proposing positive solutions to incur public pressure for reform. I got that from an article on Huffington Post."

"Most commendable! Has this grassroots effort of yours bore any fruit?"

"Not yet! Not yet! But just you wait. Once enough voices join together change will happen, you wait and see."

"I doubt nothing you say. But perhaps someone in authority might help?"

"That's the goal. Once our voices are loud enough, they can't ignore us."

"It's your lucky day, then, because I have an actual Authority Figure right here with me. He tells me you sound like someone he can use."

"Yes, please use me! Yes, please!"

"He says first you have to put this blindfold on."

"What for??"

"To prove your faith and unfailing trustworthiness. Nothing can be accomplished unless we trust one another."

"True dat!"

Standing blindfolded on the street corner was how I left him. As I walked away I mused upon the power of one simple word, that its omission or commission can be the difference between life and death. It's true: poets, priests, and politicians have words to thank for their positions. I am none of those but I too know their power. Had the Do-Gooder been on the side of life he'd have spotted my fraudulence and shooed me away.

Nothing can be accomplished unless we trust one another. I strung him along with honest words - right until the end. Nothing can be accomplished unless we CAN trust one another, that's the true phrase. I suspect had I used that phrase on my nefarious friend I would have been put off, accused of cynical treachery. Instead, he stood there quivering with excitement, the anxious whore waiting to be instructed. This is how you get Jews loaded into ovens. Good riddance to him.

The Authority Figure wasted no time. "Follow me!"

Do-Gooder snapped to attention, filled with longed-for purpose and direction. I could hear the questions and fervent replies as they marched down the street. "How loyal are you? Are you really prepared to make the world a better place? How do I know I can trust you?" He was leading him alright - straight down the garden path.

Later, the Do-Gooder's antics made the news. The Authority Figure had given him a gun and ordered him to fire - while still blindfolded. The sound of a body dropping and pained wailing was heard. The Do-Gooder was told he'd just made the world a better place. But now, having become evidence, he was led deep into the dark forest, to be left there to die. "Stand here. Keep your blindfold on. Wait for my return."

This Do-Gooder still had a scrap of forbidden self-respect left, though, and took off his blindfold the minute he thought he was alone. Lost, having no way out, he screamed. But his screams were not heard, were not wanted to be heard, and were not allowed to be heard. Then he heard voices heading for him. "Sounds like a complainer of his fate! Let's take his ass out!"

Damaged, deceived, and dumbfounded, the Do-Gooder scrambled his way back to the city streets. He tried to tell his tale of woe but was drowned in derision. Both used and used up, his mind snapped. Still armed with his gun, the Go-Gooder shot five Authority Figures. Sanctimonious speeches soon swelled.

"We must do more for those in authority. What happened here shows the threat of the unjustifiably Discontented in our society and how we must root these people out if we are to be safe. Let's join together today to give our Authority Figures more trust and more faith. Together, we shall overcome!"