Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Rambo Smokes A Joint

The Texas Sheriff’s Association, one of the oldest law enforcement associations in the nation, claimed that considering the legalization of marijuana in Texas is reckless and irresponsible despite 26 states and the District of Columbia currently having laws legalizing marijuana in some form.

"We have never allowed it, and we never will,” the Sheriff’s Association continued. “Our children are the future of our state, and it is irresponsible for us, as adults, to play fast and loose with their minds and their futures. They are not of an age to make these decisions, so it’s up to us to make the right choices."


South Dallas is not Dallas. It's a third world of despairing decay and rejected rot abutting a revitalized downtown with its million dollar condos and skyrocketing rents afforded only by the very few. In contrast, parts of southern Dallas can be mistaken for 1950's rural Mississippi complete with gravel roads. So desperate is the neglect of this part of the city, one can literally be eaten alive by roving packs of dogs.

In this place of forgotten people sat a forgotten man in a forgotten multi-story building. This man himself was also trying to forget. John J Rambo had come back from Vietnam with his body intact but with many parts missing. He could never again be the person he was before he left for the hell of the jungles whose clinging vines still wrapped his soul in tightened torment. The journey out of hell had proven more perilous than the hell itself.

The first step had been denial, to strive to be the whole person he was before. That brought rage. Then came despair, deciding to succumb to the hell and let it devour him. That brought sorrow. Slowly, painfully, over the years he let the regret seep in and the grieving begin. He oscillated between chastising himself and chastising a world he'd never trust again. In time, one thing else became clear: he needed help on an unforgiving planet.

Help came in the soothing inhales of THC-laced smoke. Like every man who'd warred he hungered and thirsted above all for peace if he were to keep his breath. He would not be the whole person of before, he would not be a patriarch to ensuing generations. In fact, he didn't know exactly what he was. But this ancient plant wound between his fingers put Rambo in a place that whatever it was he had turned out to be, it was OK. That brought peace.

As it turned out, fighting for peace was much harder than fighting for war. In peace, he was attacked by guilt and doubt that never plagued him during battle. These enemies scoured his entire consciousness looking for every weakness. The only way to win this battle was to realize his self-worth. Of the wounds he suffered in these conflicts he spoke to no one. But now having found a place of peace he knew he had to protect it - or lose his soul forever. Rambo wasn't about to lose another war, and so gradually, bit by bit, he'd become a warrior for peace simply by virtue of remaining alive.

He'd also become a criminal in the eyes of the law-bred. And when law enforcement authorities were made aware of this criminal they knew they must act!

"Listen, men, today we are fighting to protect the future of our children! Either we eliminate criminal activity or it eliminates us. One person violating the law is a threat to law everywhere. So not even the slightest infraction can be tolerated. People start fucking around with the law then all hell breaks loose! Let's go, boys, and save the day!"

With hoops and hollers the armed mass departed to uphold the thin blue line between civilization and utter chaos. For if that is not the fruit of their blind obedience then agents of chaos they truly be, to be reviled as mindless dogs when the final history of mankind is written. The officers wallowed in the force shield of approval that in their minds made them invulnerable on their way to inflict the law at all costs.

"It's so great being the good guy! We can waste these lawbreakers any way we please!"

"Especially when we go to the poor side of town. So much less stress dealing with people who don't count."

"Got that right. You'll never see a #poorlivesmatter campaign!"

"Yeah, man, I heard what the new AG said: Good people don’t smoke marijuana. We'll get this dirtbag and clean up this country of these degenerate pot smokers."

"Lot safer than going after real criminals or Wall Street traders, that's for sure. I was at my Holy Hypocrites Of America meeting last night and we made damn sure it was OK for us to persecute pot smokers even if we do it ourselves, just like that asshole Obama."

"Know what you mean. At my Anti-Christs For Jesus rally last week we pretty much figured out we're the only ones who know what the truth is. We gotta get this country back on the straight and narrow."

"Amen to that, brother! I hope he has a nice car we can seize."

Rambo was in a particularly mellow mood when his radio crackled with a long forgotten voice. "Rambo! This is Col. Trautman! You're surrounded! Drop your joint and surrender before it's too late!"

"Heeey, Trout-man! How's it going?"

"Rambo, this is serious! Look at the odds. There's over 200 men out here."

"Sounds like you're serious enough for the both of us. Don't mess with my wa. Ain't going back to the jungle in my head or in my heart. You were right. It's over. You wanna come in and smoke some ganja, help yourself. You wanna take my peace from me I'll give you a fight you won't believe."

"It's useless I tell you, Rambo. Come on out and I'll fly you back to Bragg. You can't fight over 200 men!"

"You send that many, don't forget one thing."


"A good supply of body bags."

"Hey, that's my line!"

"Suit yourself, Colonel."

Thus the signal was given to raid the house. The first group, however, did not fare that well as they were blown to bits by buried Claymore mines. "He can't do that! We're the good guys!" Reflexively, officers in the streets began to riddle the house with automatic weapons fire. But this only drew a response from radar activated nested machine guns on each floor that tracked the flashpoints of the gunfire to guide their aim (ideal for home defense!). Dozens of men fell in the surrounding streets wailing in pain.

Rambo peered out a slit in the building. "Guess they'll need some more cop guys." Then he took another toke.

Chaos ruled on the crime scene. Amid the confusion and flashing lights and approaching ambulances a decision was made to break out the heavy artillery. Attack helicopters, LAW rockets, and the explosives laden robot that killed the police sniper descended on Rambo's location - but to no avail. A series of interconnected drones overhead fired in coordination nullifying each potential bombardment. "Hey, he can't use drones! Only we can use drones! This is, like, so totally unfair! Might is supposed to make us right! Just look at all the death and destruction that joint caused."

"Fuck it. It's Twinkies time. Just don't
ask me how I got the munchies!"

Tired and beaten, the police sulked away, the dead and wounded too many to count. The press reported that the situation was only contained due to the skilled law enforcement techniques of the officers. Chief Brown responded, "I find that the mind is the greatest weapon. We'll outsmart him and pick him up in a couple weeks working at a car wash in Oak Cliff - like we could have done in the first place."

Rambo could only shake his head as he looked at the casualties being carried off on this war on people who use drugs. He settled back into a comfortable spot, still with so many tears left to soothe. "Why is it people just can't mind their own business?"

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

The Abortion

Dear Oliver,

It's been many years since we've talked yet I sense your presence every day. Your absence has been keenly felt as I ramble through life disconnected. You once told me you were "really just a big, fat nothing". I'll never forget that moment. It was like I was punched in the stomach and I felt a complete fool. All I know is I don't feel like being funny anymore. The joy is gone.

I still believe in us as an act - or at least what could have been. It's a fracture in my heart time cannot mend, an eternal woe. I stumble along in small clubs, drifting in the echoes of my dreams. You insisted we were deluding ourselves, that everyone thinks they have a great act and will be stars but the odds say differently. You told me you didn't see yourself as anything special. I don't know. Maybe apart neither of us is anything special. I can certainly say the magic I once felt is painfully gone.

I admit I had stars in my eyes. I too was scared. I thought our names would live forever. It seems so real! Looking back, perhaps I really was playing the fool but I still don't want to accept that. You say the pathetic mediocrity of my solo career proves we did the right thing by breaking up the act before we made fools of ourselves before all the world. But an even bigger fear has begun to consume me from the bottom of the pit of my stomach.

What if, in someplace where all truth is known, what truly makes us fools is the fact we didn't try? What if angels are weeping at the loss of what would have been greatness for the ages? Maybe that's the reason we walk around overwhelmed with a feeling of failure. Maybe the failure was in  aborting the act, not because we believed in the act. I feel we have condemned ourselves to the very fate we were trying to avoid!

You keep popping into my head on occasion when I think a funny thought I know you'd love. I want to share it but you're not there. And no one else speaks our language. So the thought dies, unheard and un-laughed. What would people think if they knew of this loss? My punctured soul drips in sorrow, draining all the funny out of me. Nothing terrifies me more.

I have to live in the supposed world that you were right and the act was wrong. What else can I tell myself? If only I could stop these questions from swirling around in my head! Sometimes I suppress funny thoughts to keep from believing I have talent, to show my life has not been a waste. I live my life now as seen through the eyes of others. My own eyes can't bear to face we've committed a crime against humanity.

I've also found I can't hold a relationship anymore. I keep wanting to tell her I'm not worth her time, I'm only a fraud. I'm so desperate to prove aborting the act was an act of integrity that it has pervaded my entire life. I do not see a way out of this spiral. An ignorant fool told me to "just find someone else for the show" but it doesn't work with someone else! "Oh, so he's like the greatest comedian of all time? He's the only good one? Then how come he didn't become a star on his own?" I am truly in hell and cannot stop thinking about what once was.

I'm sorry, Oliver, but I will always know your name and always know your funny. Maybe your funny and my funny don't mean much apart. You said if we were really talented and deserved the success we dreamed of then we'd have successful solo acts that would prove that and we could rejoin. But it's not who we are apart that matters, but who we are together. What I do know is this weight in my heart is bringing me down. I just want to quit and hide for the rest of my life. I don't want anyone to know I can be funny. I can't stop believing that the only reason we failed is because we didn't try. Maybe in a way that really does make us the frauds we feared to be.

Your friend,

Stan Laurel

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Downtown Dallas Blues (Photo Essay)

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I rambled through downtown on the anniversary of JFK's death, the day democracy died (one could argue RFK's death was the final nail in the coffin). We will never again have an honest person in our top office as we continue our sad parade of losers to lead us into oblivion while protecting the deified greed that destroys us. But even outside of the anniversary I am feeling the blues as the walls close in on me, wondering when I too must exit.

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The day was appropriately overcast. The expected crowd was loitering and exploring Dealey plaza, posing by the infamous X in the road. Worst part of all, though, is we hate and persecute truth-tellers like Kennedy more than ever. We see them as enemies of the state and traitors to our way of life. But those who are loyal to our way of lie and proclaim it holy from the mountaintops are the true traitors, agents of destruction, our typhoid Mary. Our current messiah in office has proven he would violently damn JFK as a member of the "professional left". Never was our President's anger and conviction stronger than in making that statement.

His finger too was on the trigger that terrible day in 1963.

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When Jesus was on the cross, no one was able to release him, even if one knew it to be the right thing to do. Why? Because all assassinations are conspiracies. Certainly nothing physical stopped anyone from releasing him. Only by a concerted effort of the whole did he remain there. Were anyone to change their mind on the killing of Christ, he would be betrayed and killed in kind. No one had to sit around a table and stipulate that, you just knew it. The soldiers answered to their superiors, the superiors answered to Caesar, Caesar answered to the public, the public answered to the Romans - around and around it goes as one humans feels justified in doing wrong because another human told him to do it.

Gee, wonder how that will work out!

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The more apparent it becomes we're on the wrong course, the more you hear the cry, "We've done this before! We'll be fine!" But you can only stick the needle in your arm so many times. We either die in mutual betrayal or survive in mutual support. Believe as you wish, this will happen regardless. All the guns and bombs in the world won't save a soul. Once we realize that, that's when we'll beat our swords into ploughshares and have true peace. In the meantime, try to have the courage of Kennedy and say "No" when they tell you to load Jews in the oven, a request that never stops, in all its hideous forms.

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Click here to see the entire set.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Eddie Bacon's Rest Stop

It hits you when you stop.

Eddie hungered for human companionship on his flight from prison. It struck him he'd actually be safer nestled in a crowd than staying a lone object to be easily spotted. So he strayed towards a highway rest stop with a curious sense of exhilaration but ready to flee at a moment's notice. Though self-conscious in his ill-fitting stolen clothes, Eddie took respite in the fact no one gave him a second thought.

Look at those two kids over there. Hard to believe life was like that. It's true I've never felt innocent. Maybe all I ever was is ignorant of the nightmare to come. Now...I'm outside everything. I belong nowhere. I'm out of prison but the feeling of despair is even deeper as I sit here watching the lives of others. Man, this sucks. I just want to live!

The cool late afternoon air was refreshing. Eddie hadn't realized how much he'd been laboring in his run. But the fresh air, the sight of playing children and families vacationing served only to sting him deeper on the pangs of his predicament. He thought back to a girl he knew long ago, the only one he'd ever considered marrying. Would he be in the same plight if he'd been more honest with his feelings to her? Still, the only way he knew how to make money was dealing pot and had he stayed with her he'd of drug her down with him.

I don't even feel human, like I'm an alien barred from life on this planet. I can see no way I can survive. This really isn't much of a plan after all. If, if, if. That's all I really got. One little thing goes wrong and I'm fucked for life. Dear God Jesus, what have I done? Life is unbelievably hard and cruel. What if I can find no cash jobs in Crockett? Then what? Shit, I'm looking at having to turn myself back in just to fucking eat. Maybe I really am the fuck-up everyone says I am.

Eddie's escape had been done in a blind rush. He fed himself cursory answers for his doubts about money and eventual survival, but now having paused in his journey he was forced to face them head on. Just how was he going to earn a living? The taste of freedom had so intoxicated him - the very idea of it breathing life into him - that he never stopped to consider just how realistic his plans might be. He kept thinking life couldn't be as bad as it kept turning out to be. But it was.

These soul crushing thoughts isolated him even further.

Don't stick out. If you're going to do this, do it right and don't get caught. Don't act like you don't belong. They can't know about your broken heart or this killing despair or they'll see something is wrong and suspect you. It's so hard! I just want to scream for help! If they knew I was an escapee they'd hide their children and betray me in a heartbeat. I just don't know what the right decision is. To be, or not to be. I'm so lost...I'm so lost...

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Where Are You Now, God?

Cutthroat job possessed,
Surrounded by vagrant sharks;
Where am I now, God?

Abandoned alive,
Sitting drooped on cold brick street;
Where are You now, God?

No time left, must run!
"Each soul must fend on its own."
Where are we now, God?

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Eddie Bacon's Run

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Eddie didn't sleep in a bunk in his cell. He slept in a frying pan. Each night in his vain search for rest he was roasted alive, tossing and turning, the back of his head dripping sweat, waking in horror. In a place where men had committed so many unpardonable acts, it was Eddie who had the most trouble sleeping. But he was at a loss to explain his peculiarly rancid soul.

Prison itself, of course, is torture. In Texas, there's not even air conditioning, the hate is so great for our fellow man. Criminals caging criminals. The wardens and the guards are desensitized as the self-loathing masses turn a blind eye. Basically, you're thrown into the bottom of a well and left to die, day by day. It's in this way we say we will fix the world. Good luck with that, assholes.

Eddie had to believe his cage certainly was part of his sleeping problem. Another part was that there are no secrets in prison as everyone knew of his deeply inflicted nightmares. Desperate for moral rationales, any weakness is preyed upon and used against you by surrounding prisoners. A murderer even referred to Eddie as "That weird dude." That only turned up the flames of his nightly broiling. Eddie's time was divided between agony and the fear of coming agony. He prayed for death but death would not come.

So he had nothing left to lose. Eddie's drug charges were nonviolent so he had an easier time of gaining trust of the guards. That's what allowed a chance in a million to come his way. He found a forgotten guard uniform in the laundry. Using that he could engineer an escape. Miles from civilization, he was nonetheless prepared to make whatever run he needed through the east Texas woods. He laid down pepper on his trail for the dogs sure to follow. His determination was not to be denied.

That first night out in the woods he slept no better, nightmares of enraged pursuers stringing up their captured victim. Getting out of prison was only the first step to escape. Eddie also knew from countless stories he'd heard that 99% of the time recapture didn't come from stellar police work but from simply monitoring known contacts of the escapee. That mistake would not be made here.

At least he had some direction in his life for once. As a low level pot dealer Eddie had just drifted along, paying his rent and growing his hair, trying to find a way to survive outside a system that suffocates his soul. It was true he didn't see much future in it. He never had the ambition to make enough money to achieve financial independence. Eddie was just waiting to get caught now that he looked back on it. It was during that time his sleep troubles had begun. The more he tried to push down his fears in the day the stronger they raged back up in the night.

The actual physical running felt good. His head was clear and his objective indisputable. But he would need some luck. The first bit came with finding some drying clothes on a clothes line behind a rural house. Eddie thought that only happened in movies but was glad to find out otherwise. What did only happen in movies, however, was having the clothes actually fit but he'd make do. He didn't discard his prison garb, though. Not safe yet. "No mistakes!"

Eddie chose to go north to Dallas, not south to Houston. Houston was closer and that's where they'd concentrate their search. If his prison clothes were found that would be a clear tip off of his misdirection. It wasn't until he reached the city of Crockett did he find a dumpster where he could safely dispose of his old garments. Now he had to figure out how to traverse the 150 miles to Dallas.

Without help, Eddie understood for the first time the true odds against him without ID or a legitimate address. Luckily, there were enough unscrupulous building contractors looking for day labor he was able to scrounge up some money. He couldn't risk formal transportation like a bus so he hung around a coffee shop in the mornings hoping to find a ride northward. His luck held in finding a rancher hauling a horse to up near Gun Barrel City, about 45 miles from Dallas.

But the man wasn't blind as they thundered down the back roads. "You're an escapee, aren't ya?" The crusty cowboy had a huge grin on his face like he'd just gotten away something slick. Eddie tried to protest but the man knew what he knew. "Don't worry. I don't give a shit. I think it's fun fucking with the law. They done fucked with me enough, waitin' outside bars just to trip ya up. Fuck 'em. I'm glad to help."

Eddie explained his predicament, telling his life story. One thing he left out, however, was the terrifying night sweats that even murderers mocked. He felt that sharing that aspect of his life would end any possible help he might get - and so far he'd had an incredible run of luck.

"God is looking out for ya, kid. You were lucky advertising you wanted a ride when we's supposed to be on the lookout for hitchin' escapees. They'll turn you in in a heartbeat back in Crockett. Great town but people there got no use for prisoners. You can breathe the fresh air now. Yessir, from what you told me God wants you to escape."


"If God wanted me to escape that's the first good thing the Great Saboteur In The Sky has ever wanted for me."

"What you talkin' about? God only wants good things for you."

"It's certainly pleasant to think so. That has not been my experience. To me, we're born to die."

"God's lookin' out for ya like He does everybody. Just look at this run of luck you're havin'. I can introduce you to a guy who'll give you a job no questions asked. You can start your whole life over!"

"I have to admit the idea of God wanting me to live is overpowering. I'm so tired of fighting headwinds every fucking day of my life. I've never seen a way out, not for a single second. It truly is blessed to think I've been wrong. It's like a giant weight off my shoulders if I can trust God. I've always had a horrible attitude."

"Now you see the light! Don't be making life so hard on ya."

"This ranch we're going to, you work on it?"

"I own it. Inherited it from my Daddy. Life is good!"


Six months later Eddie found himself washing dishes in his evening split shift in the back of the Yellow Rose Café. Life was hell. He was paid off the books just enough to survive, yet could gain no driver license and no way to re-enter legitimate society. His only course of escape would be to return to drug dealing but this time go all the way until he had enough money to get out forever. Eddie was not ready to do that. True, he'd not been caught but his pursuers hung over his head in permanent menace. He slept worse than ever.

The cowboy (who knew the restaurant owner) made his way back to see Eddie.

"Hey, how ya doin'? Still footloose and fancy free, I see, still livin' in the free world!"

"Yeah, what's free about it? I'll be stuck doing slave labor for life. Out of prison my life is even more of a lie than when I was in it. Fuck God. I should have known better than to believe that Cocksucker would ever want to help me. Life: the harder you try the more you die. It's better just to be dead."

Wednesday, November 09, 2016

Trump Wins The Pennant! Trump Wins The Pennant!

By any provable metric we had the two most despicable candidates in American history this election. One can either support Lady Macbeth or Caligula. Many justified their support of a despicable candidate by virtue of not supporting the other despicable candidate. And that's how you guarantee a vile candidate is elected! Like Rome before us whose final rulers were each a succession of greater rot and decay we too suffer through this today.

Part of how we got here was the "good guys" syndrome. Democrats traded principles for power under the guise of "pragmatism" to keep the "good guys" in power, pushing right wing policies while patting themselves on the back for their alleged moral superiority. How disgusting. Erode civil rights. Enable corporate slavery. Mass deportations. Worldwide terror campaign. The left stayed silent because the "good guy" was in charge. That's how we got to where we are today. The silent left created Donligula.

Now, if the left attempts to fight The Donald on his policies of greed and repression they will have no leg on which to stand. Real goddam pragmatic, that! It will be quite easy to point out the flagrant hypocrisy of suddenly protesting the same policies of which one stood mutely by and watched for eight long years. Any protests will be hollow and vain, words washed away with the wind. The fear is palpable today and I'm no exception. Make peace with your Maker.

We were a country based on greed before the election, during the election, and after the election. This is a byproduct of that. What's funny is watching the desperate whitewashing by an embarrassed nation forced to look in the mirror and see the phony orange hair of a clown. There's a lot of "This is not us!" going around as we scramble for moral crumbs on how at least we don't have military coups here in our "peaceful" transition of power! Congrats, America. Be proud. However the election turned out the reflection is ugly upon us.

Monday, November 07, 2016

(Cash Or Carry) Tender Identity Issues

Sometimes I think my problems are unique in all the world. And in one sense, that is more true than can be known to anyone alive today. On the other hand, there are those with parallel problems and seeing that both bothers and comforts me. On one hand, I don't feel so special anymore but on the other I don't feel so isolated. You normalized freaks have your social media ad infinitum, but I have the streets - and Roofie.

Roofie's real last name is Fielder. But I called him Fiddler because he's always fiddling with something or somebody. Then I called him Fiddler on the Roof for no reason and finally Roofie referring to the drug you supposedly drop in a girl's drink to knock her out. Not saying Roofie would do that - but he damn sure will prank your ass. This last one, though, has to be the all time best, never to be topped. I only thank the street gods I was there to witness it.

Roofie is a fairly lanky black guy fast as the wind. He has the wonderful characteristic I see only in certain blacks of giving off this super positive vibe. It's as if all the suffering and abuse over the ages instead of crushing him made him into a diamond everyone wants to be around. To be able to come out the other side like that without bitterness is a trait of which I am deeply jealous and even fear a bit. But what really struck me, creating a bond for life, was when he said, "You know, the life in me will be the death of me." There is no greater summation of the world than that simple observation.

Where we run parallel is we both have highly developed imaginations. In another life we could be revered for that, giving pleasure to millions with our creations - and receiving millions in return. But we live in a fatally insecure world where only that which can be monetized is considered valuable. Rare are those who are aware of the price we pay for this but if we did know, this behavior would end in a heartbeat. As it is, we end up only amusing the few who can understand.

Roofie and I both have recognized the sense of humor in the other. He's far more daring and willing to interact with other people whereas I am more prone to doling out witticisms lost to the wind. We both want to impress the other and it could have been the serendipity of the cop car and my seated presence that triggered his act of genius. So I would like to take some indirect credit for this because, well, it's just so damn great. With me as his approving audience Roofie walks up to me with a paper grocery bag with a few boxes pressing out against the edges.

"What ya got in there?"

"Rocks," he says. He's got this shit-eating grin on his face so I don't really know what to believe because why the fuck would anyone be walking around with a bag full of boxed rocks?? Then Roofie eyeballs the cop car down the street and winks, "Watch this."

There's always police activity somewhere in downtown Dallas. It's more relaxed during the day where they mainly pick on the weak and the homeless. I have no idea what they were talking to that kid about away from their car but Roofie slyly saddles up next to the squad car acting as suspiciously as possible.

You fucking idiot. What are you trying to do? Get your ass arrested I'm not helping you. Shit, wish I hadn't encouraged him now.

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What I didn't know was this was all part of his plan. Devious devil! Roofie waits until he finally catches a cop's eye, drops the bag next to the squad car with a heavy clunk and then takes off like lightening. Cops don't stand a chance of catching him and besides, they are frozen, too distracted by the bag. That's when the whole chain reaction started.

Now, I know what all the Uptights have to say walking around with cop cocks in their mouths (Hi, Steve Blow!), but what Roofie did was a good thing. The closer we come to the truth the better, and this played right into the cops' guilt and paranoia. As delicious luck would have it, it was two redneck white thugs reacting to Roofie's prank. And, man, were they happy to be victims!

I seriously doubt there's a person on the force who's forgotten about their five colleagues being ambushed and assassinated. Their now-departed chief made hay with national attention to gain sympathy and support. What he didn't do with his woe-is-me tale was address the issue of why there's such outrage against the police in the first place. There most certainly was the fingers of other cops who helped pull that assassin's trigger. So now even a box of rocks is suspect.

You're under arrest!

The cops are feeling the coming attention they'll receive as they get up on their hind legs ordering everyone about and taping off the area, anxious to play superhero. Next thing you know there's a whole slew of cop cars with their lights flashing pulled up. I'm feeling a tad self-conscious and trying not to laugh too much. Strictly speaking, there is no other course of action they can take but how they handled it was the true hilarity. Terrorism - in all its forms - is the new cutting edge language for communicating so it always brings everyone to life to learn someone's true feelings in our carefully posed world.

There's lots of talk between the cops I can't hear. One has to wonder what's going through their minds. To feel constantly in the crosshairs yet unwilling to change behavior must really be a mind-fuck for them. There has to be part of them wondering, "Who did we piss off now?" They will feel guilty and shamed - up until they find out it's a prank, then they'll blow a gasket!

Wow, so here's the bomb disposal truck. Huge fricking crowd watching. I'm taking mental notes because I know Roofie will want to know every last detail (little did I know he'd snuck back after seeing the large crowd to hide in). I laugh seeing the bomb robot because it always reminds me of Number Five in "Short Circuit". It rolls over and starts snooping around. Somehow they determine, however, that there's nothing metal in the bag. So one brave soul goes over and sure enough discovers nothing but boxes with rocks inside - with a note on top saying 'Boo!'

Maybe I was imagining it but I thought I saw more disappointment than relief on his face. I wanted to yell out, "Paranoia will destroy ya!" Was good to make them think and reflect in these times where our schools are guarded with scanners, cops, and machine gun nests. Our problems are really much larger than we admit. Healthy doses of skepticism for the cops to realize not everyone is out to get them can help bring some perspective back.

All glory is fleeting. Roofie will be feeding off this incident for a very long time and has become a legend among we the unknown. But his life is still hell. Like me, he has no true outlet for his creativity. What does it say when a person of true talent has no place in this world? Is it the person or the world - or both - at fault? Roofie would need to create some pretty amazing art to give himself the same satisfaction he got that day. He forced the entire DPD to reflect upon itself and maybe - just maybe - ratchet tensions down a bit.

I too have identity issues: I'm a billionaire trapped in a homeless man's body. I can find no surgery to fix this - and the only ones with a trace of understanding are people like Roofie, i.e. as fucked as I am. It has to be lived to be known. Delusion is my only escape but like any drug the come-down is agonizingly brutal and induces suicide. I haven't had a full night's sleep in years as my body erodes in exhaustion. If worry were money I would be a billionaire. As it is, I can explain who I am to no one - not even myself.

Friday, November 04, 2016

Obummercare Starts To Show Its True Face

"I don't go to sleep with no whore, and I don't wake up with no whore.
That's how I live with myself."
- Wall Street

Of course, if everyone followed that dictum the world would be a much better place and the two main candidates running for President would not receive a single vote. Dear God, wouldn't that be sweet! What a hilarious message that would send, how those craven creatures of approval would stand naked and shattered drenched in the filth of their mountains of lies for naught. Ah, well, I can dream can't I?

Politics is like any other religion and watching the vast mental contortions people perpetrate on themselves to justify their beliefs is hilarious at best and frightening at worst. Some of the cracks of the Unaffordable Care Act are starting to become undeniable. Make no bones about it, this program has one goal and one goal only: to lock in funding for runaway healthcare costs. NOTHING was done to control, or better yet, regress costs to be more in line with other countries who provide superior healthcare. As I've said before, ACA is one of the greatest acts of corporate evil of all time.

Through Obamacare we have been turned into a nation of indentured servants - for life (or at least until Medicare kicks in). Basically we have given the health industry (both healthcare and health insurance) the unfettered right to bleed people dry. What we have witnessed is a huge dismantling of the social fabric and safety net and there's zero chance of it being repealed as both the left and right support it. What monsters. God's wrath for these deceivers and enslavers cannot be too strong (nor soon enough!).

I'm sorry I supported Obamacare's hell!

A lefty fellow on Facebook posted his predicament:
Anthem Blue Cross/Blue Shield will not renew my insurance for the next year. Ok...that's fine since I pay $700 a month with an $8,000 deductible.
After consulting with a registered-with-the-state-of-Colorado health plan counselor, the new and best option (note I said best) will be to opt out of the Affordable Care Act which in Colorado is known as Connect For Health Colorado. Instead, I will get a better plan than what will be offered by CFHC by paying the penalty for not being a part of the ACA and paying $1200 a month with a $10,000 deductible.
He did not editorialize one way or the other, he simply stated the facts of the situation. But then we see the predictably twisted responses from the conservative left who still cling to lies, half-truths and outright self-deception.
If you have health insurance it doesn't have to be through the ACA to avoid penalty... Not sure if maybe the policy you are looking at isn't a qualifying one?
Problem here is that no real policy for a male is going to include prenatal care, ya ignorant jack ass. ACA was justified by the supreme court as a tax and that's exactly what it is. Ergo, everyone has to pay for everyone else's costs whether they pertain to the policy holder or not.
That is unbelievable! I didn't know they could just cancel your coverage!
In more breaking news, there is no tooth fairy, either.
A tragedy and never was supposed to happen. I am so angry on your behalf. I think you have a cause of action. I'd get an attorney.
That's a real stunner. "Never supposed to happen" - uh, just exactly what is that based on besides wishful thinking? Wishful thinking is considered a virtue among conservatives (both left and right) so they can claim plausible deniability (in their own heads anyway) on the wreckage they engender ("I'm shocked, shocked!"). Not only is what happened to him legal, it's encouraged by the system (other commenters spoke of similar situations).
My ACA policy cost $900/month for the last year that I had it before I was eligible for Medicare. Before ACA, when I had to buy an individual policy on the open market for 10 yrs (with a preexisting condition), my premiums went from $1200 to $1800 per month. ACA isn't the problem (actually, it's the solution); it's health insurance for-profit companies.
I've run into this woman before and she's a wildly vicious Obamabot, an eye scratching zealot. The cognitive dissonance in saying, "health insurance for-profit companies [are the problem]" is staggering. The entire concept of ACA is based on for-profit companies!! Jesus Christ, lady, you thought it was based on charity? And to imply it's lowering premiums is an easily provable falsehood. And of course she only mentions her perceived benefit and not the hardship placed on society as a whole. Hard to tell what's worse sometimes: the monsters or the monsters who defend them.

As the nightmare begins to unfold, it's not just the useless idiots doing the contorting.

When the Department of Health and Human Services announced last week that average premiums for Obamacare plans were rising by 22 percent, President Barack Obama and his Democratic allies had a response ready for worried consumers and the law’s critics: Don’t worry, almost everyone on Obamacare is shielded from them by the law’s generous subsidies.

There are lots of problems with that response (someone has to pay for them, for one). But the biggest one is that about half of Americans who are subject to the law do not, in fact, get subsidies.

This fact has often been lost in the conversation over this month’s news. Just yesterday, the president said the Obamacare rate hikes will affect a “handful of people.” David Leonhardt of the New York Times explained that of the 10 million people who buy coverage on the exchange, “the vast majority receives government subsidies that will largely or partly cancel out the price increase.” New York Times columnist Paul Krugman estimated that only “several million” people are subject to unsubsidized rate hikes.

These assessments are wrong. In reality, about half of the people with Obamacare plans—more than 8 million people—do not get subsidies and will not be shielded from premium increases.

How is this possible? You might have heard, for example, that 80-something percent of people on the Obamacare exchanges receive subsidies. This is true, and is the basis for the claims above. There are only about 1.5 million unsubsidized enrollees on the exchanges.

But about 7 million Americans are enrolled in Obamacare plans that they obtained outside the law’s exchanges, directly from the insurer or through a broker. These off-exchange buyers are buying into the exact same plans, participating in the same risk pools, and seeing the exact same premium hikes as those who buy plans through the exchanges. Most are probably ineligible for subsidies because they make too much money. But regardless, even if they were eligible, they can’t get a subsidy, period, because the law bars subsidies for enrollees outside the exchange.

"Pay the mandate or die!"

Sheer bald-faced barbarism. None of these assholes are at risk and push their agenda only for the purpose of self-promotion and so what if a million people are hurt. They must not count! And don't overlook the fact there are no free rides ultimately as subsidies go to the national debt and we all pay for that - with interest. Another thing these agents of destruction overlook is the actual effectiveness of this 'final solution'.

While Obamacare has brought health insurance to millions of people in the U.S., some in the program are finding that the medical care they need is too expensive to actually use.

Michelle Harris, a 61-year-old retired waitress in northwest Montana, has arthritis in both shoulders. She gets a tax subsidy to help buy coverage under Obamacare, though she still pays $338 a month for the BlueCross BlueShield plan. Yet with its $4,500 deductible, she says she’s doing everything she can to avoid seeing a doctor. Instead, she uses ibuprofen and cold-packs.

“It hurts, but we don’t have that kind of money,” Harris said in an interview. “So I deal with it.”

Trust me, I know from personal experience that 45 hundred dollars can be as unreachable as 45 million. As I've said before, you can always spot the Obamacare liars as they equate health insurance with health care. More monsters. All this is being done to gain or keep political power. You see, once you've ordained yourself one of the "good guys" anything you do to get or retain power then is automatically justified. Unfortunately, we have to wait on God to straighten these weirdos out.

Obama, like all conservative perverts, bases his actions on the false precept that being responsible to money is the same as being actually responsible. Because this contamination is so widespread he does not get called out and, in fact, it's the reverse that actually happens. The greatest irony in all this is that as much as liberals get blamed for this policy (no real liberal supported it, of course, because liberals can do math) the roots of the mandate reach back to the very conservative Heritage Foundation think tank.

As conservatives have enslaved themselves to the lie they are conservative, so then are they compelled to seek to enslave all other living beings. The Nazis didn't die, they just incorporated. I can only watch as we tighten the noose around our neck, slowly choking us to death. I realize for us to permanently give up the fiction of money it will take pain and suffering greater than ever endured by mankind - but everyone can still go fuck themselves.