Tuesday, December 26, 2017

The Koehler Incident

"Know upon whom you press."

This phrase is not often spoken anymore by the Russian Secret Service. There's not as much need to - for even the most evil of organisms must grow or die. The state police for Russia goes back centuries, a creation of the Tsars out of a self-awareness of their disconnected cruelty and the resulting expected backlash. At this point in history the ruling class need have no such fear as the Russian psyche is so self-inflicted with negativity they oppress themselves out of a false sense of patriotism. There's your riddle solved, Mr. Churchill.

Pride for a Russian is in how much abuse one can take. The more cruel a leader the greater the sacrifice. The more one can sacrifice the greater one must be! In futility they trust. How many empty Vodka bottles does it take to fill that hole? But all the while the Russian soul is desperately craving for the acceptance and respect from the West it does not give itself. This is how they are able to perpetually see themselves as victims, illusioned as a permanent lesser people. That gives free reign to the Secret Police to unleash the worst of the country's repressed demons onto the population - as their behavior is the measuring stick of their society's health.

In the 60's, at the height of the cold war, Russia wallowed in both her power and her helplessness. The only thing she fears more than her enemies is not having an enemy (for then who can they blame for their woes?). So they worshiped at the altar of an imagined peril from the West and the always present fear of a population that will one day throw off the yoke of an unjust and undeserving government. For the rulers at that time, this meant little was out of bounds when it came to sacrificing before these two gods.

Looking back, it's now seen the KGB of that era had gotten cocky with decades of resistanceless wins to its credit. It was business as usual when the government official - a very high functionary in the Politburo - and an assassin agent approached Heinrich Koehler [the 'oe' pronounced as a long ā] in a small dank room deep in the heart of East Berlin.

"You recognize this picture? It's of your mother, no? Soon she will know the freezing cold of Siberia in her bones. Your young nephews and nieces will know only the labor camps as their future. Your uncle to whom you still write will know the joys of a cell in Lubyanka [a notorious KGB prison of torture]. Years of tears will flow if you do not do as we say. Can you imagine these things happening?"

The assassin sat never taking his eyes off Heinrich, almost smiling as he heard the hells listed by his compatriot. He had the stench of death about him, a sewer rat who no longer cared in what filth he swam. The killer knew the effect his coldness had on strangers and enjoyed watching them shiver.

"I, I understand," acquiesced Heinrich in troubled tones. Then he received his detailed instructions.

In the language of the day, Heinrich Koehler was a henpecked man. He lived outnumbered with his wife and mother-in-law (who lived up to every stereotype and then some). His wife Lydia knew what she wanted and went after it with ruthless efficiency. She preyed upon the needs of men, eventually trapping Heinrich with a child. Having achieved dominance, Lady Lydia used her husband as a pack horse to sustain her (and her mother too, of course) in relentless suffocation. To hear her tell it the only thing her husband had ever done right was get his promotion to supervisor of the guards at the East Berlin prison where he was employed.

"You've got to be tough!" she implored their only child, Ian. "The world is never changing and you must suck it up if you want to get by!" Ian eventually joined the black market German underworld, providing his mother with forbidden fruit of the West. She couldn't have been more proud. Ian despised his father.

That night in bed, Heinrich heard the Russian official's hissing voice all over again.

"Next week, on your night shift, you will let in my man to these two isolation cells." In those cells were two Russian escapees. Why they had to be killed Heinrich did not know. One thing he did know for certain was the seriousness of the situation having two men such as these involved. After a lifetime spent in devotion to non-confrontation this was his was his worst nightmare. Heinrich would have blood on his hands with or without his cooperation. The only question was whose.

It was also a cruel irony that the only reason he was being pressed to do this was the fact as supervisor he had access the normal guards did not. The one single "good" thing he'd done in his life was now being used against him. That's what happens when you step outside of your circle, fool! Much as he tried, Heinrich could not convince himself of the worthless of the two men's lives even as compared to his own relatives. He tried to stuff the rationalization down his throat but could never fully swallow.

He also could not share his situation with his wife. She and her cohort mother would have no qualms about his cooperating, not even seeing a need to question it. The two prisoners' lives would be gone in the blink of an eye if it were up to the two scheming women. Daylight was nowhere to be found. (Had he lived a few decades later Heinrich would have found a bitter partiality in the #metoo movement with its narrative of only female victimization).

Me too

In his torment, Koehler also failed to realize one other ruthless detail: after the deed was done he'd become a loose end needing cleaned up - permanently.

As the days passed until he went onto the night shift, the official's photographs tortured the prison guard's mind. Having time to imagine the worst only made the pressure more difficult. He wondered if they planned it that way, knowing that time was working in their favor, softening him up. When the night in question arrived he was spent and his will destroyed. He'd have to be tough like the world. He'd have to become like his wife. Grow up, Heinrich! he could hear her demand.

The Iron Curtain was a land of dark secrets. Each soul lived for its failures never to be revealed. But Heinrich's time had come. His current secret being no matter how terrible the nightmares he couldn't fully resolve to the killing of the two men in his care. Heinrich was one of the few guards not hated by the prisoners. He could never lift his hand to abuse them - he already knew what it's like to live life as a prisoner.

The face of the creeping assassin was even more hideous as it delighted in the unrestrained glee of betrayal. Was easy to see his drowning soul lived for these moments of butchering, the crushing of all hope. He savored the telling of his final morsel from hell.

"It's you who will do the killing."

Heinrich stepped backwards as if physically struck. That very much pleased the assassin, his resolute smile giving no quarter.

"No...no..I can't..."

"You must use your gun. It's the only way. Do it for your family. These two men mean nothing."

The real plan was to have the entirety of the killings blamed on the guard, who then dies of a "heart attack." The assassin was there only to clean up the mess. He never could understand the stupidity of people who left themselves so vulnerable. They got what they deserved.

"You don't understand..."

"I very much understand. Do I need make this any clearer?"

"No. No, I understand."

The guard turned to pass through onto the isolation cells. The assassin grinned. The devil was coming to collect a soul that night.

But had the killer not been so smug, so self-assured in the sanction of his blackmail in a godless but blind world, he might of noticed the coming explosion in Heinrich's head. The shame of a lifetime was building steam. That "something wrong" that had plagued and hounded him for decades could no longer be denied. Finally, he decided he was dead no matter what he did.

They reached the first cell. "Unholster your gun," the voice to his right commanded. Heinrich did so. "Now open the door."

Opening the door meant exposure and permanent branding as a lifelong loser. Bad enough to be mocked and ridiculed at home, but now it would be everyone and everywhere - even at work! Heinrich snapped.


The revolver emptied all six rounds into the ordering agent. But Heinrich wasn't killing only him, but every tormentor of the "soft" man who could do no right. He had to preserve that final piece of his soul. Time for the world to grow up. In the corner of his ear he heard hastening footsteps stomping down the hallway.

EPILOGUE: Had it occurred in Russia and not East Berlin there might have been a full cover up. As it was, the photos and the entire story of the botched assassination came to light. The party official who orchestrated it was disgraced and denounced by the very people who ordered him to do it (not for the attempt or methodology, but for failing). Heinrich and his family suffered no repercussions. By losing himself he saved himself (the anti-Obama).

To persecute Heinrich would be to admit the killing of a KGB agent - a chink in their allegedly invincible armor. That could not be tolerated. But Koehler's shot was one heard 'round the Soviet empire, poking a hole in the secret forces' own naivete of the evil of its blanket oppression. A line had been crossed and to keep crossing it would ultimately mean their own destruction. While direct assassinations still continue to this day, the use of ritual blackmail of family members faded in disrepute. In the end, everyone wants to live.

Thursday, December 21, 2017

American Gulag And Vichy Democrats

Smirking jerks always look the same throughout the ages

So this is how occupied France felt. Raped, robbed and looted by an enemy force bent on destroying her in self-hatred and vile jealousy. The Inadequates, the No-Hopers, the Twitter Trolls, the Unindicted Oligarchs, and the rest of the professional losers are having their day in the sun, smiling in the same short-sighted and idiotic way as their hero and role-model Der Furor, who also did not realize he was losing when he thought he was winning. Inside, they know their time is short, taking all that they can carry away, waging holocaust on anyone who is Not Them. This is not from trickery or deceit of the Innocents, it's daylight theft for anyone to see.

Our need to feel we are moral beings drives our lives and decisions beyond all else. We are outraged at the robbing of a bank while acquiescing to the robbery of a nation; the Jungian thing. I was glad the Trumptard won because I knew it would finally rip off our veneer of assumed morality and the viciousness that has always lied just below the surface of the conservative movement, be it left or right. I hear people asking what has happened to the Republicant party. Nothing. Same as ever. Just more out in the open. Funny to see these shocked! shocked! lifelong Republicants renounce their affiliation to try and save face. Hopefully, they'll continue in that direction.


Their children hate them for the things they're not,
They hate themselves for what they are
- Carly Simon

Just as we hate the Republicants for what they are, we hate the Democraps for what they aren't. Feckless, spineless, toothless, without the courage of their convictions. Who wants to bet they take the "high road" if swept back into power and don't want to be seen as "mean or partisan" to the person hellbent on wrecking the country and ruining lives? "We'll vote to impeach only when we know it will fail." There is no adult in the romper room of Congress.

This attack on the rule of law started before Trumptard, beginning with anti-Christ 43 to justify the Iraqi pillaging, escalated and formalized by No-Drama Obama, and now taken to the insecure extreme by our current Traitor-in-Chief. Karma, baby. Terrorist killing drones are a big yuck today on foreign soil but just wait until you are declared a terrorist for want of a loaf of bread. Will be a tad late to bitch then.

The real war being waged here is on integrity itself. Self-respect, selfless dedication, honest competence - these are the declared enemies of the state that must be eradicated. Doesn't matter what your tribe or rank is, exhibit those traits and you will be outcast by the Bolshevik Reds who believe they have nothing to gain anyway. It's the Final Solution all over again - and we'll do nothing to stop it because it's too unpleasant to admit that of ourselves. It's true that holding onto one's integrity may not save the world. But it's guaranteed to save you.

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Goupil: No Holidays For An Assassin

DD OverEasy

"Me? I'm an international assassin."

"Well, you certainly don't look like an assassin."

"I'd be worried if I did!"

"In fact, you look like you couldn't hurt a fly."

"I've hurt many a fly," I assured with my steeliest of looks.

She thought that was funny and relaxed. I'd accosted her at the newly opened Overeasy in the renovated Statler Hotel (now with residences!). I assumed she was a resident/guest and she assumed the same of me. But I was only an interloper, posing as a successful something-or-other having valid business in this fine establishment. But, yes, having killed overseas, that does make me an international assassin.

Holidays are horrible times for contract killers. It's a rare time for assignments, I having had only one, in 1997, when I was up and coming, long before the sordid Russian affair. (Yes, I know EXACTLY the methods of aching seduction they used on your American president.) Damn, that's twenty years ago. But I remember the feelings like yesterday.

The job was in Manhattan. The city was electric! I fed off the energy and I remember thinking how sharp my feelings and focus were, almost as if I were floating through the streets. To be outside of everything and yet right in the middle at the same time was a heady experience. Lucky Luciano claimed there is no other feeling in the world like having New York sidewalks underneath your feet. He was right. Christmastime only heightens the sensation.

DD Coke

It was difficult contract, though, and I had to make a helluva silencer but I got the mark in his parking garage. But in that instant a bitter cold wind blew in and I was suddenly transported back into abandonment, apart from everything once again.

I got out of the city quickly as I could, like a scalded cat. The giddiness of before was replaced with a burning fear. I felt every caroler's eye was upon me. "They know! They know!" I couldn't get that out of my head no matter how much I reasoned with myself. The holidays have never been the same since. I ruined Christmas for all time.

My thirty-something stringy-haired blonde companion sitting across from me could not possibly surmise this. Like all professional liars, I compartmentalize my life to show only those parts which I wish to be seen. It's a horrible, terrible way to live (and again, a condition the Russians know how to expertly exploit). I was completely stepping out of bounds to be having this sort of lighthearted conversation. I walked a straining tightrope.

"So who's your target during the holidays? Santa?"

"Santa's more likely to order a hit than be hit. Labor problems and all that. Of course, it could always be you."

I was taking a chance; scared shitless as usual. My defense mechanism pops up in moments like these. If she plays along I'm good but if she freaks out then I am the asshole she fears I am.

"Oh, why would I be your target?"

She's intelligent. I like that. Using logic on me, eh?

"Because there's a secret truth you have not shared. And somebody out there doesn't want you to share it."

"How could you possibly know I have a truth I have not shared?"

She has no intention of letting me out of this trap. I love it! "Because if you were someone with nothing to hide you'd be known to me."

That made her think, maybe even bothered her. Did my blind arrow hit a mark?

"In that case I'm a worthy target."

She had withdrawn into her inner world, revealing it to me, putting me off my game. Careful, I might hurt her for real.

DD OverEasy 3

"Then you understand my dilemma..."

"What dilemma?"

Shit, honey, help me out here! I was only saying that to buy time. Can't you give me a hint of what you're talking about? I retreated to using general terms.

"The dilemma of being trapped into doing something you don't want to do." Bite! Bite!

"Oh, that..."

Whew! But I still had to pretend to know more than I did.

"I used to think freedom could be bought." That snapped her out of her melancholy. "If I just get to this certain place - a certain stage in life - then I'd be free. But then you find another prison awaits you when the purposelessness of your false journey is revealed. So you just slowly drift off to sea, hoping for a benevolent wind to set you straight."

"Christ, it's like you read my life."

"No, only your face. It's vital in my business."

"So you're more likely an international pawnbroker."

"Actually, I'm no longer for sale. But you showed no fear when I supposed you a target for assassination."

"That's because I'm already dead."

The melancholy demeanor returned. Detached and disposable, I'd become a "safe outlet" for her. I rejoiced right down to the bottom of my toes. Any taste of usefulness in my life is my constant craving. (Being used for contracts is the direct opposite of being useful. Just one of the many bitter aftermaths of my criminal conduct.) She continued.

"You'd only be finishing the job. My husband beat you to it." She stopped herself. "No, that's not fair. It's death from a broken-hearted marriage. I fulfilled my Laundry List of Life - that 'certain stage', as you put it - and found out I was more trapped than ever, completely fucking empty. Who am I? I never dare to find out." Her eyes raised to mine. "I'm too afraid of what it might cost me."

I said nothing in understanding silence.

The rest of the cafe came into focus. Only two other couples were in there. It was late, dark and misty outside, holiday lights morbidly flashing in expecting cheer. For the first time I considered her as a sexual being. I wanted to caress her vulnerabilities. But she was one who considered opening the cell door to be criminal. Like most of us, she will die of staleness and rot in her prison while keeping up appearances, consumed with the futile politics of a dying nation and God's angry weather. She knew she could never face the thorns of the world at this stage of her life. But the price of that was to keep out love at the same time. Doomed for all eternity.

DD Butterflies

We parted in unspoken yearning. I told her we are "Doom-mates". That got a wry smile. I trundled back outside and down the couple of blocks to where my car was parked. I'd previously dropped my Uber fare off at the Joule Hotel before lounging at the Overeasy for a nightcap. She made her way back up to her husband's hotel room to be there when he arrived back from his all day meeting (topped off at the City Club). They'd flown in first class from New York, of all places.

Together, she and I were more alone than ever, but once separated, not as alone as before.

Thursday, December 14, 2017

Down For The Count

Neiman Window Red

It happened by accident - as is usually the case with revelation.

I got caught in a plate glass window downtown.

I was looking at a store Christmas display. A living family came up beside me. Then I saw my true reflection in the mirroring glass.

The comparison was stark.

So that's what I look like.

Shattered. Nowhere Man. Mr. Oblivion.

Everybody wants to fool the world...

Nightmares have been increasing, growing stronger. I'm missing too many important people. I feel hunted by guilt. I lost my plausible self-deniability in that glass.

I felt the urge to strike, to destroy the reflection, to vilify the press. HOMELESS VANDAL DESTROYS NEIMAN'S DISPLAY. But would that make me any prettier - or just more obvious?

He was writing it after he wrote it, said an observing voice.

No one knows I died when Emily left. It's a state secret written right on my face. People know. This charade has been a waste of time. The sun left with her, my stepping stone to life. I've been writing only from memory of a face that no longer exists. Happy Revelation Day.

Wednesday, December 06, 2017

#Metoo? How about #Youtoo!

I had no idea it was so easy to bang starlets, walk around with your dick out, or even wantonly hit on high school cheerleaders. Shit! I've been missing out all these years! Not one to be left out, your man Harry is up to the task. Feel my power!

"Harry, only thing powerful 'bout you is your B.O.!"

OK, so Gretchen isn't impressed. But have you seen these other guys?? They must be using some sort of Jedi mind tricks I don't understand to get these women to do what they do. "Yeah, that's right, honey, you need to read that part NAKED!" I just ask to go out to a movie and get told to go fuck myself. Can somebody please tell me where all the unempowered women are?? I can't find them for shit. Hollywood babes, Olympic gymnasts, hot coworkers - these other guys are having their way! Hey girls, when is it my turn??

Read where that morning host guy making 28 mil a year is feeling bad ("broken") sitting in his home in the Hamptons. Hey, pal, I'll trade places with you anytime! You can be the midnight janitor the office girls laugh at and I can be the disgraced multi-millionaire raunching my way around. I guarantee you HR is all over my ass if anyone complains about me. Everyone knows that if you're guilty of having a dick then you must be guilty! Case closed!

So what's the secret, ladies? How can I put you under the spell of my power? Most of these guys didn't win the lottery on charm and looks. I made me a producer card. Is that good enough for ya? Or maybe I need me a D.A. card! "Hey, lady, give me your teenage daughter in the name of the law!" Someone really got that to work?? Jesus, I must be doing something wrong. At this rate I'll never able to cause a #metoo moment.

"Come hither and feel my respectful power!"

So how can I break into that world where women don't use the power of sex against you? "City girls just seem to find out early how to open doors with just a smile." So I guess the whole "bad boy" era is over now and women are finally choosing the "nice guy" that has traditionally lost out since the beginning of time. Woohoo! Bitches be demanding respect! From now on all us guys will be prim and proper and watch the girls go wild! War between the sexes is finally over.

Don't watch or you'll be scarred for life!

Sunday, December 03, 2017

In The Name Of...

Origins of ATT

"I saw the war today - and it's a good one. One that God wants." She is one who worships the world in the name of God. Driving in her luxury isolation tube, she passes telephone poles piercing the bodies of crucified poor who wriggle in silent agony outside the soundproofing of her gleaming glass as gospel music emits in death minor. "The war on the poor must be!" she surmises in the worldly wisdom of rejected religion. In tithing she rationalizes: "To do a great wrong, do a little right."

"You cannot help the poor by helping them. They have to earn it!" She keeps her face buried in the trough of greed, filth and waste dripping from her soul as mutual pigs snort and nod in understanding of the unspoken conspiracy. In the daily supermarket of delivered goods thorns of the world dig deep into the heads of cashiers, tears of blood running down their smiling faces in quiet desperation. For their efforts as willing victims of war, she always says Thank You.

"God wants good things for me, I'm loved so much for my faith! The more you have, the more godly you are. Look at my monstrous mansion!" She giggles marvelously delighting in the bounty of billions of sadistic slaves toiling in doomed duty of planet servitude. But to find a dangling thread from her tailored shirt is cause for wailing without hope or hindrance of worldly injustice lamenting lands and peoples lacking her integrity, godlessness in the unenlightened hinterlands.

"Look at the soul God has bought for me! The sun rises for us, the chosen ones. If it were not good, it would not be allowed to be - just like the tax bill!" she observes from the perch of her tilting San Fransisco condo. In the living room resides a mountain of gold ingots descended from Moses; an irrefutable wealth in the eyes of Man. She places her hands and knees on consecrated Berber in impassioned supplication. "Forgive me, holy ingots, for I have sinned, holding pure thoughts that would destroy this wonderful world. In God's gold we trust!"

"My love of God will never die! I relentlessly ensure the maid polishes the silver to the highest standards. My will be done." Her Facecrook page lays littered with morality bites to be digested for lesser lives - while implying her previous conquering of such - as AI software diligently scans in the background for forbidden bare breasts to keep the world pure. Her skyline savior bursts in lighted glory as sewers fill with homeless vomit. The Son also rises in hidden waiting pounce.

"Breathe deep my gathering gold. From my comfort throne thorns of the world are the devil's demise. A Rolls-Royce soul parts the unwashed masses in revered awe. Sweatless saints are carried by stained sinners to a place of virtuous vice. I rule in contaminated contentment with my radioactive Rolex, voting jaded Jesus into office to preserve the reverence of my reign. Reject the Maker whose art is in heaven, hollow be Thy name, revelation devastation is Thy game. I ask you: in a world that lives to screw, what else can one do?"

Thursday, November 30, 2017

Follow The Love

This photo still pisses some people off. Good.

"Love is the biggest issue."
- Yoko Ono

Apparently I'm due a Nobel Prize. Some schmuck figured out human emotions play a role in economic decisions and that people aren't logical robots tied to their seeming economic interests. Damn messy humans! Who knew?? That's still light years behind what I've been saying: "There are no economic problems, only moral solutions." I made that comment years ago at HuffPo and got duly roasted, of course. People are searching, scratching, screaming for anything, something, whatever, that has meaning outside of love. Threaten that illusion and they come after you with pitchforks.

But like Gandhi said: "Truth is one, paths are many."

Every life's driving force is love. Facing that is the key to understanding human nature and the universe we live in. Once you realize someone is committing an insane act because of love, it puts it in a different light. Caligula's supporters ostensibly hate people of color (because they fear anyone they see as different won't love them) and since Caligula boy wants their love he thusly abuses people of color; birds of a moron feather. What you begin to see is not just the evil being done, but the sad, desperate motives behind it. In the end, if you dig deep enough, it's always about love.

A successful con man is someone who knows what you won't admit to yourself. "I don't need love" is the phrase con men most love to hear. They will agree with you, egg you on. They'll tell you that people who say you do need love are your enemy - and in that way the con man earns your love. Then he gets you to vote for him, send him money, or whatever kind of support he's after. As long as you fail to be honest with yourself, the con man holds you in his grip. Their role in life is to trip you up, right or wrong. Whoever holds your love holds the power.

"They know the truth but they won't admit it." A TV pundit spoke those words regarding our elected cowards' fear (on both sides of the aisle) of rebuking Caligula. But that reflects us as a whole, as well. Say the wrong thing, lose your love! All our decisions are based on keeping love - including economic decisions as Igor figured out. Love is the one straight line that connects everything - no matter how much we try to pretend otherwise that we are being "logical" or "practical" or some other horseshit. Heaven sees our silly charades as we strike poses for love. We can't help ourselves.

We've set up false realities where we can "win". He's good at football - then commits suicide. He's a lucky millionaire - then shoots 200 people. We have all sorts of fake unreality winners. But love always bites in the end. Wait for it. The need for self-expression never fails. There's a reason many lottery winners piss away all their cash. They fear the guilt of getting something undeserved will also prevent them from being able to deserve love. The pull is irresistible and unyielding into the Light. Resistance truly is futile. People are puzzles, it's true, but every solution is the same. What a relief when we are finally one under the sun. Then we'll know the true meaning of power.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

How To Say 'Fuck Off' 10 Different Ways

In a dog-eat-dog society there's nothing worse than a fellow dog needing help. But just because we are the assholes who dreamed up this nightmare world doesn't mean we want to come off as the assholes who dreamed up this nightmare. Can't pay your rent? "Fuck off!" It's the universal reply. But the compulsion to believe we're good people forces us to disguise our answers as we cheerily wave goodbye to our friends marched off to concentration camps.

So how to pretend to care when one really doesn't give a shit? There's an art to it, and if executed properly allows one to be cloaked in morality whilst giving the finger. Beautiful! Below are a few of my favorite examples I've heard while left dying in the road. It's good to know we think the best of ourselves and perhaps these phrases will come in useful in one's daily charade. Translation in parentheses.
  1. God can do anything! (So I don't need to do anything)
  2. Be optimistic. Things always work out in the end! (You'll be fed in debtor's prison)
  3. I have faith in you! (Especially after the cocksucker says you have to finish waxing the entire hallway in one night)
  4. Tomorrow is another day! (Of late rent fees)
  5. Surely, there's someone who can help! (i.e. anyone but me)
  6. We live in the greatest economic system in the world! (Must be something wrong with you)
  7. You should try asking them for mercy! (Because you'll get none from me)
  8. You should double check your situation. Maybe you're fine after all! (That will give me time to distance from you)
  9. Think of it as a character building experience! God never gives you more than you can handle. (I promise to attend your funeral after the suicide)
  10. People do win the lottery, ya know! (Fuck off)
See, the problem isn't too many mass shootings, but not enough. Take out 20-30% of the population and soon the message gets through we're all in this together regardless of any fake rules we make up that we pretend are life and death. In the meantime, have a nice day while dying!

Friday, November 17, 2017

If Groping Is Bad Then How Bad Is Rape?

Show me a capitalist and I'll show you a pervert!

With everyone getting up on their holier-than-thou hind legs recently I've yet to hear an inkling of an ethics panel grilling for the large scale rape of millions of people. Why is that? When did rape become OK? Of course, the real question is: when hasn't rape been OK?

These rapists shown above are animals, thieving monsters literally applauding and cheering the havoc and hell they hope to wreak. Just what does it say about us as a country we let people like this roam the streets freely? And if you think hikacking a person's money does not constitute rape, then let me educate you. Simply give up all your worldly wealth and let me know how that works out for you. Don't worry, you don't actually need to BECAUSE I ALREADY FUCKING KNOW! You will become an object of scorn and derision, outcast and dreamless, unable to support a family, your health and pain an afterthought, and your future forfeited. And this is a rape that does not end until you are dead.

"Many who are first will be last and many who are last will be first."

We are objectified from birth, commodities to be bought and sold on the open market. "Winners" bring a high price and "losers" bring a low price - or so we tell ourselves. Have you ever looked at the cells in your body and thought any one less important than another? Such is it for every soul on this planet. God help the poor ignorant bastard who thinks he or she is smart enough to determine who should have food and who should not. Because your sorry ass will be the first to starve in heaven. This may sound like philosophy to you now but the coming reality will strip every capitalistic bone out of your body - or die, thank God.

Like I said before, sex is the great exposer of just how phony our "morality" is. Show a dick to a child and we'll get out the torches in pretended righteous anger. Take away a sick child's healthcare to die in agony and all you get is some feckless barking from the edges. We don't give a fuck, we really don't. We're just going to ride this ship until it sinks no matter who suffers or dies along the way. We'll demonize sex and lionize rape - because naturally rapists equate sex with evil since that's what they know.

So posture all you want and win all the economic arguments of the fiction we've created and how selfishness is "reality" and all the rest of the brainwashed garbage you want to spew. Because you're going to eat it, bitch, getting double the shit you handed out. Laugh and applaud and cheer how your "side" has won, you kool-aid drinking morons. These are the worst of times with the worst yet to come. And by the time your own ass is due to face the unspeakable nightmare we've constructed it will be too late.

Fools will tell you to follow the money to understand human behavior but if you really want to know, follow the love. This mine eyes have seen.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

What would YOU ask Roy??

God bless Roy "the Boy" Moore, the one soul even the lowest of us can look down upon. Who knew a war-loving, greed based society could be filled with so many sexual deviants? And for as long as I can hide my own sexual sins I'm going to feign shock with the best of 'em. I'll have to if I'm to keep up with Roy Boy's ethics hearing before the Senate. I dunno, but when I see one weirdo being questioned by twenty other weirdos that's certainly a "What's wrong with this picture" moment for me. But I don't want to think about that too much as it spoils the fun.

While everyone lines up to throw that first rock, we must first have our incisive questions ready to go because, you know, inquiring minds want to know. An askroy!.gov website has been set up so the public can have input into the proceedings. The only rule is that every question must start with "Hey, Roy". Even Charles Manson on his deathbed got excited hearing Roy Boy speak, proclaiming he'd finally found a soul more craven than him. His question was quite unique: "Hey, Roy, have you ever had a hard-on for Hitler?"

Since this grave and moral proceeding will be under oath, certain questions do beg to be asked. Who knows? Maybe we'll find out Roy-baby is just like any other crazy uncle who's been banned from the mall for hitting on teenagers. Or maybe our high school sex education classes should include actual sex so kids won't grow up to be deviant D.A.'s in the future. In the interest of finding out just why guys are are so damn horny, I pulled ten questions out at random:
  • "Hey, Roy, have you ever got a date using a lollipop?"
  • "Hey, Roy, have you ever kissed a black woman Democrat and liked it?"
  • "Hey, Roy, can you tell us about your favorite farm animal and why?"
  • "Hey, Roy, have you ever changed a date's diapers?"
  • "Hey, Roy, have you ever fantasized about being abused by two angry lesbians with strap-ons?"
  • "Hey, Roy, why wouldn't you want to take my daughter to the prom?"
  • "Hey, Roy, have you ever been in a Turkish prison - and would you want to go back?"
  • "Hey, Roy, is self-respect a turn off?"
  • "Hey, Roy, have you ever wanted to walk naked through San Francisco with flowers in your hair?"
  • "Hey, Roy, are these questions making you HAWT???"
Regardless how things turn out, I think it's a fairly certain bet on what will be the hottest - and creepiest - Halloween mask next year - one sure to scare the hell out of trick-or-treaters!

Sunday, November 05, 2017

Is Lying Smart?

Polls really are fake news because people tell you what they want you to believe as opposed to what they actually believe. Luckily, I as a super-genius can cut through all that to get to the actual truth. See, we're all the same on the inside. The reality is there's no secrets and time is coming when we can no longer deny that. In the meantime we live in a hazy shade of grey - if one so chooses, that is.

So let's cut to the chase. Everyone - including avowed Trumptards - know that Dickhead Don is a pathological liar, a born loser, and a de facto foreign agent acting as the head of our government. This is known, if not admitted. Liars are like a child who holds his breath underwater and claims he can do that forever. Either he admits he's wrong or in time he dies. But until these people self-purge themselves from among us we have to listen to their howling hysteria and wild accusations.

If you're a soulless, habitual liar then nothing pleases you more than to see another soulless habitual liar win a popularity contest. But really, what's to be gained from that temporal moment? To have others to agree with your lies and to build on that Reich only traps you with your lies - buried alive - a favorite tactic of ISIS. So you see, Trumptards and ISIS have a lot in common! How many winners of the moment have gone done in permanent infamy in history?

"Is lying smart?" That's a question no liar wants to answer, for either he dooms himself by saying 'yes' or outs himself by saying 'no'. In fact, it reveals the level of a liar's self-delusion if he even attempts to answer. I'd love to see someone put that question to the Liar-in-Chief. He's probably dumb enough to answer!

But it's clear to the alleged supporters (as there are no real ones) of Queen Trumpy that they openly think lying is smart, that there's a thousand year future in it, and are delighting in the filth like a hog in mud. But even the dummy media is catching on to the con. I heard a reporter talking about how every time Caligula boy spewed forth another falsehood they'd all be scrambling away fact-checking only to find out "nobody cared", and that for Dear Leader "the truth is what you can get away with." Will be interesting to see how far they go down that line.

But there are many more lies than that to divest. Who really wants to give up the lie of -isms (capitalism, communism, socialism, etc), or the lie of money, or any other of the range of voodoo ritual religions we've concocted to "save" ourselves. We really are a silly people! If only I do [fill in the blank], I'm saved! Funny how that blank is never filled in with "listen to my conscience." That's why no one on either side of the aisle speaks with conviction - unless they're lying!

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Punchin' Judy

I punched her right in the face. Never done anything like that before in my life.

You're kidding.

After all that time! She thinks she's going to come up and talk to me?

Who does she think she is?

And she's got this smirk on her face too. Couldn't even hide it. Like she's being clever or something.

What could she have been thinking?

I'm sure something has gone wrong in her life so now she communicates. Fuck me the rest of the time. After all these years! All those nights crying and mornings grieving...

What happened after you punched her?

She couldn't believe it. She damn sure wasn't smirking anymore. I think she discovered she's not the only person on the planet with feelings.

Didn't she say anything?

What's there to say? Time for talk has long past. Time was when I'd of killed for just one word from her. But as long as she had her sweet set up she didn't give a damn about anyone or anything. I think she realizes she's on her own now and I'm not waiting on her in her back pocket anymore. Bitch.

So that's it?

Yes. She's saving face calling it a #MeToo moment but I think that's just funny. You can never forgive true love.

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

General John "Yellow Belly" Kelly, Self-Described "Empty Barrel"

"Generals gathered in their masses,
"Just like witches at black masses"
- War Pigs

I've never suffered from military worship. I do understand there are killers in this world needing killing. The worst of those wear suits. But weapons and armies don't keep us safe. The only thing that makes anybody safe is a clear conscience. Otherwise there'll always be monsters under your bed just waiting for a fear-monger to come along and betray you. And if someone says they don't like my point-of-view and thusly refuses to "defend" me then by all means feel free to de-enlist. I highly encourage it.

General Yellow Kelly was right on the money describing himself as an 'empty barrel'. How else to explain one who uses the death of his own son to launch a smear campaign? I'm stunned that anyone could be so crass and misguided. Is that his idea of serving his country? I know I don't want that. Maybe there's some jackass out there that does. Maybe he thinks that jackass is his boss. His boss isn't the country, either. But then again, generals have lots of experience debasing themselves to get to where they are.

So educate me again when the truth does not suffice? That's the problem with the military, it rots your brain. The only way to exercise the mind is by free thinking. This guy, admittedly so, has hollowed himself out, actually believing he's lying and mimicking his boss's inadequacies for the greater good. Try not to laugh at him. He's a relic of his past. I wonder when he started turning his back on free will. Why is it no one ever says love is for the greater good? Because love is the only truth.

But the real solution here is how to fill Johnny boy's empty barrel?!? He needs our help!

We could fill it with monkeys...

Or flowers that are funky...

Or maybe he'd like whiskey!

Or a girl who says, "Lick me!"

But any way you look it
His head is really crooked.

Thursday, October 19, 2017

Paul's Four Most Underrated Beatle Songs

My consciousness of the Beatles was very limited when John's death occurred. But it was that event that triggered my exploration of and now undying devotion to all things Beatles (and Lennon). Sirius XM came out with an all Beatles channel a few months ago and it has been wonderful not with just the songs but with the snippets in between of Beatles trivia and guest hosts like Don Henley and Billy Joel breaking down Beatles songs. Another feature is for regular fans to call in with their four favorite songs and give a little spiel as to why. I could never pick just four songs.

So I made up another category of four underrated songs by Paul. Maybe I'll find some variations on this in the future. John always said Paul was a vastly underrated bass player and even though Paul could be shallow in his lyrics at times, other times he soared in ways people also don't give due recognition. I'll attempt to correct that oversight today.

I'll present these in chronological order. Note that original studio Beatles songs are banned on YouTube.

Things We Said Today (July 1964)

You say you'll be mine, girl
Till the end of time
These days such a kind girl
Seems so hard to find
Someday when we're dreaming
Deep in love, not a lot to say
Then we will remember
Things we said today

I was shocked the first time I heard this song written so early in the Beatles catalog as the final song on "A Hard Days Night". I felt Paul found a haunting corner of everyday life and beautifully expressed it. His emphasis on communication is thematic throughout his Beatle career, most notably in "We Can Work It Out". Here he sees the future rooted in words spoken this day while acknowledging in the melody a certain melancholy. It reaches an ancient sorrow brought to light. As Beatle songs predate human history, who knows what corner of the universe that came from. No matter how many times I hear it, I can never get to the bottom of it.

Fixing A Hole (May 1967)

And it really doesn't matter if
I'm wrong I'm right
Where I belong I'm right
Where I belong

A while back I saw in the theater a documentary on the making of Sgt. Pepper's. This guy has broken down other Beatles albums as well and I especially looked forward to this one. He did, however, skip over a few songs, one of those being "Fixing A Hole". I thought that was outrageous. I think the lyrics above to be a moment of clarified genius expressing the futility of arguing reality. Beatle Paul could step outside of himself sometimes and make these wonderful observations. "When he wanted to, he could think." (John referring to Paul). This song forced me to realize I could be right or wrong about the shape of the earth but my place on it remains the same. That was a relief.

Fool On The Hill (November 1967)

Day after day, alone on the hill
The man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still
But nobody wants to know him
They can see that he's just a fool
And he never gives an answer

But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning around

Yes, this is considered a classic but is still not properly appreciated. Paul paints the picture of a "wise" fool and I love that seeming contradiction. I feel people for the most part are a little disturbed by the vision of a wise fool spying on them, seeing them for what they are, never answering their demands. So this song is not embraced as it should be. Though maybe not conscious of it, Paul is speaking of every artist ever born, observing and smiling like a Cheshire cat who never tells you why. Lennon also liked this song and whenever I hear it I want to expand it into a film and explore it deeper.

You Never Give Me Your Money (Recorded May 1969)

Out of college, money spent
See no future, pay no rent
All the money's gone, nowhere to go
Penny jobber, got the sack
Monday morning, turning back
Yellow lorry slow, nowhere to go
But oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go
Oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go

Paul is sitting atop the Beatles mountain here knowing it's about to crumble. Only those four know what that was like. He was, in essence, homeless. To me, I imagine a person walking the streets with a special feeling inside he can't get out. It's a painful place to be and obviously not a sustainable way of life. I read where Paul no longer sings this stanza in concert when he does this song. I can understand why. He's left alone on the edge of the universe wondering if he's going to fall into the abyss. It's a horrible thought but I'm forever grateful he went there and captured it for all eternity.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

What About Ze Jews, Mein Kampf?

"Have I got a healthcare plan for you!"

Minister Josef called in his assistant.

"Heinrich, come look at this!"

Minister Goebbels was holding forth a newspaper article with his outstretched hand. "Did you see this? It's hilarious. This man makes these careful and painstaking points of all the contributions Jews have made to civilization. Must have taken him days!"

"Ah! He takes us seriously. How wonderful!" The assistant looked over the article. "Yes, yes, very factual and reasoned. What a moron! He fell right into your trap, Minister. We control his narrative and he obviously has zero faith in the public discerning the truth for themselves - just like us. Perfect!"

"Thank the Valkyrie gods for fools like this propping up our credibility, that we actually believe the filth we're peddling, making convenient enemies to be targeted. When will they learn? It's not the truth that counts, but the truth that sells that counts?"

"Hopefully never, great Minister."

"Let us use our translator to devise a response. First we start with the truth, of course, because we must first discern the truth in order to distort it."
A responsible and correct newspaper has pointed out the falsity of the campaign against the Jews by showing that, in fact, they are not the monsters we portray them to be but quite the opposite, as vital and precious members of society. The article demonstrates how much poorer our lives would be in their absence. This effort to spread truth reinforces the fabric of society and helps build a solid foundation for our future.
"Now we shall fix it by filling it in with our own crimes! Ha ha! This is fun!"
"The lying media is waging a campaign against the truth! We've uncovered yet another example of their filth peddled by a shameless editor. This sort of divisive propaganda must stop! This story leaves out important facts the newspaper does not want you to know! The ministry values and respects the role of the press but not this kind of perverted journalism that leads to destruction and a dissolution of our ideals! Stand up for your rights! Protect our country and demand an end to deceivers and distorters of truth!"

"May I make a suggestion, great Minister? Should we not change 'this story' to 'this conspiratorial story'? After all, what we're doing is most certainly a conspiracy!"

"Excellent point, Heinrich! You will go far in the Reich with your ability to pervert."

"Thank you, sir! There is a reason we are winning! The public is with us all the way!"

"Indeed - and it shall remain that way. We'll forever proclaim truth to be filth, honesty as treason, and lies our only hope. As they destroy their lives we'll give them convenient scapegoats to blame as no man is a villain in his own eyes."

"I'm drawing up a list of suspects now. Immigrant workers, gypsy outcasts, the lazy poor - all those who can't fight back. It will be hilarious to watch fools attack them!"

"But we know what truly is most important, Heinrich, and that is our own personal well being."

"That's what it's all about, sir!"

"So we must consider if America wins the war."

"No, never!"

"Don't be deceived by our own propaganda! Time is on America's side in the war. But I have a plan! They live by their greed which they've made their holy religion. That will be our key to success! Never will they give up that lie! As their lives turn to shit as happens to every greedy civilization we'll still be on top misdirecting the blame and anger as we see fit. There will always be a place for liars like us!"

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Dear Donald, Please Show Us Your Dick

Deny drinking water and food - but don't do THIS!

It's not like he doesn't want to. He's certainly been busy showing us his ass. And like he said, he could murder someone in the street and his supporters would still be there for him - which has certainly shown to be true. Would child rape be the breaking point? Apparently not. After all, hasn't the President's reaction to Puerto Rico caused unnecessary deaths and raped its inhabitants? We all sit around saying how awful that is while munching chips, watching football, and getting truly riled at a kneeling player. If this ain't ancient Rome I don't know what the fuck is.

As Janet Jackson proved, it takes an exposed body part to get action. FCC rules changed overnight, the nation was in an uproar. "Something must be done!" And her part was only half-exposed. Nudity is the great exposer of Mankind's hypocrisy. You can commit any crime under the sun but self-exposure we cannot tolerate. On an instinctive level we know revelation means doom for our ways. Our reaction is immediate and merciless, without compunction. Walk naked down the street and see the faces of hate drop their masks in unbearable agony.

I've heard pundits ask where is the bottoming point of our Psycho-in-Chief? There isn't one. Who wants to give up their power? Compared to the supposed alternative any evil can be tolerated, our behavior is saying. So as Caligula keeps crying out for help with increasingly desperate acts of insanity, he shows just how treacherous we've become as a people. Yes, the world can burn around us and we'll say how awful that is when polled but to truly see someone upset wait until the batteries die in their remote and watch the rage.

We shot Lennon for being free

We say we are helpless but it is the people who have the final say. Every dictator in history lives at the mercy of his people. The consent is always mutual. The reigns of Hitler or Stalin would have ended in a heartbeat had they done one simple thing: Walk outside and show their dick. In reality it's a meaningless act. But if people fear you're going to expose their sexual behavior you will be murdered in a heartbeat. Your guards, the military, the political class will turn on you in instant crucifixion.

So, come on, Donny douche. Show us what you got! You certainly talked about it enough during the campaign. Show us the real reason you're so insecure. You'll never be free if you don't! And the benefit to the country would be everlasting. At least imagine it done. The alternative is worse than death.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Serenity Stones (Photo Essay)

Stones 20

Every day is a journey,
and the journey itself is home.
- Basho

Without a home one is ground down into the grind of daily dust, parched lips never finding water. On the road, no one stops to see your tears. What do I have that cannot be taken from me? Dignity's loss is only a missed meal away. I'm a pauper of human hope.

Stones 12

Where is the rock of rest upon my path? Where is the foundation that gives respite in a crumbling world? Whatever I grab onto slips through my fingers. That's both a burden and a relief.

Stones 5

I can take refuge in a moment stolen from the gods who drive me onward. But like a dew drop falling from a leaf, I may enjoy the fall but the time is short, and my fate inevitable. The road calls out my name, regardless of weariness.

Stones 19

Only the stones remain the same. They've witnessed ancient battles of warlords as well as Spring's first blossom. More than once they've marked my passing by. We've become friends. I was surprised, however, though much slower may be their demise, they too wonder of their fate in a roiling and reeling world.

Stones 11

Which stone does not count? Whose dreams do not matter? Who is not meant for the light? What is hidden from the Laws of Nature? Where is Love's escape?

Stones 17

I keep the illusion alive. She believes it still. Yes, I have a direction - but it leads nowhere. I pretend I'm on my way. I pretend to not know what I see. I pretend I can keep pretending.

Stones 9

No man can choose the path for another. Every perspective holds a piece of a larger truth. Yet we demand one path and one viewpoint for every soul. Doing that is like carrying a large boulder on your shoulders. In time, you will be crushed by it.

Stones 16

I see islands of serenity I cannot reach. I wonder of that life, ashamed of my ignorance. But I hold that dream in my head, letting it guide me like the Northern star. My fellow travelers often poke and prod me, but I tell them nothing of a dream they scorn. I see the fear behind the hate in their eyes. They tell me I must be like them or they'll throw stones at me, for their sin is sanctioned. But they are not sanctioned by the Serenity Stones. And without it their hearts turn to stone, as if that would shelter them from the cold.

Friday, October 06, 2017

News Of The Word


Just another day in the casino/hotel lobby.

"Bobby, stop running around like that!" scolded a young mother to her 4 year old. "You know you can't be doing that, not without your flak jacket on!"

Armed guards with automatic weapons patrolled the grounds while wearing bright ebullient clothing covered with small slot machine icons. They waved their breast cancer pink M1 rifles with a smile at the children who pretended to shoot them as they passed by.

Part of the outside wall was roped off with a special designation. People were lined up to stand beside it, taking selfies, often making funny crotch gestures at the same time. Two girls giggled. "Look! It's the exact spot where President Moron peed on the building. It's so exciting to be a part of history!" Her friend concurred and both felt strangely grown up and responsible at having recognized an actual historical marker.

The hotel gift shop had a special running on ammo clips to "enhance and complete your Vegas adventure!" So-called "Sniper suites" were rented at a premium, sometimes doubling in price if been used by an actual sniper. At the Patriots Hotel a gun range was installed in the basement designed with "all your favorite targets: Muslims, Hillary Clinton, and liberals! All the people who make you feel inferior!" Reservations need to be made at least two weeks out due to overwhelming demand.

A guilty-looking man approached the front desk. He had two military rifles draped over one shoulder, a LAW rocket draped over the other, and two larges boxes marked "Munitions" among the luggage being dollied by the porter. "Hey, lady, hope ya don't mind me draggin' all this stuff in."

"Oh, no," explained the clerk. "We're just fine with that but I do have to tell you an extra security deposit will be required in case of window breakage."

"Ah, heck, that's no problem. I jess like me privacy, is all."

"Yes, sir. We understand, and we're here to accommodate! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas - just like our profits and dead bodies."



"So where are ya now, bitches? Ain't no beauty queen no more! Fuck you if you think I'm ragged out. I am ragged out - but fuck you if you think it. I don't regret nothin' I ever done! It's a hard life in rock'n'roll. I done more livin' in one lifetime than most people do in ten. I was worshiped like a goddess! I was rich and famous, not like you anonymous losers. I had any guy I wanted. Who are you? What have you cowards ever done?

"I hear you peons talkin' shit about me. Don't mean nothin'. If you really know anything you wouldn't be saying anything. Like dogs barking at the moon, you are. Empty. Pointless. And alone. Got nothin' to do with me. You fucks don't know nothin' cuz you ain't never been nothin'. Don't be out there whacking off to me. You'd of done anything just to lick my hot boots. Go on, ya losers. Go find something in yourself.

"It's all about making it to the top. I'm one of the lucky ones who got to taste the apple. Once you get a taste, ya gotta have more! What a great and glorious ride, every clock-puncher's dream. Meaning that comes from the inside, not from some factory chore. The name of Suzi Quatro will live forever! No one can take my fame from me. I'm not the bitch. You're the bitch. So I don't want anyone worrying about me being ragged out. I'm just fine without love."


Do the right thing - unless it pisses people off


[From deep inside the first term, scared of the second term.]

"Mr. President Saint, I want to bring to your attention this program to help underprivileged black children who suffer from malnutrition. I know with your gracious heart and great empathy you can use your bully pulpit to help get this funded."

"You professional left asshole! I ain't using no bully pulpit! The Republicans won't let me! Are you trying to undermine my saintly agenda?? If they see me helping black people all they're going to say is how I'm selfish and serving special interests and only care about my own kind. Damn you, radicals!"

"But kind sir, I would beg to point out that the true assholes are the conservative pricks making those baseless accusations and that they are merely protesting their own behavior."

"You idiot! You know nothing of politics! I have to reach across the aisle to bring good and evil together. You know how many people that will piss off feeding those black brats. Damn those kids for trying to make me look bad."

"I'm sorry for being stupid, sir. I just don't see the harm in getting children proper nutrition."

"You'd be right if they were white and living in the suburbs. Look, I'll throw some money at it when I'm on my way out the door so I can keep the illusion of a liberal legacy. But not before! We cannot be divided. We can't let the perfect be the enemy of the good - which is me!"

"I promise to be more white! Black is ugly!"

"We also had a study come out showing how we can end prison rape and the much needed reforms we need to implement."

"You just want me to lose re-election, don't you?? Morons! I'm surrounded by morons. You want me to be seen as coddling prisoners and soft on crime?? They can take it up the ass a few more years until after I get re-elected. And besides, maybe it will turn them gay and all those votes are mine. That's all part of my brilliant triangulation. Two groups we don't have to give a shit about: prisoners and gays."

"And small black children."

"Will you shut up about them! It could be worse. I could drone strike their ass like I do Middle Eastern children. They should be grateful. So they don't eat right. Big deal! Let them go to Harvard like I did. I'll strike a pose and make an inspirational speech for them that everyone will applaud."

"We also have some major fraud cases in the banking sector, incidents of torture, and civil rights violations in the name of domestic security. We must fight for justice, sir!"

"Fuck justice! Fuck the rule of law! Justice only gets in the way of my popularity. Don't you dare touch those banks and fuck up my post-Presidential speaking fees. And I'd get my black ass roasted if I pushed back on torture. And if I don't wipe out 200 years of civil rights and we get attacked again then I'll get the blame! Justice is the enemy of the people."

"But, sir, you were elected with a mandate for justice. Trust me, saintly sir, if we don't enact the changes we promised people will get pissed and put some lunatic in charge just to get the change we never delivered."

"Hogwash! With my symbolic liberal gestures to fool the idiot left and sly ultra-conservative policies to appease the anti-Christ right I'll go down as the greatest President in like, ever! What makes me smarter than the rest of you - and justifies my every betrayal - is that it's NOT right and wrong that counts. The only thing that counts is people SAYING you're right or wrong."

"You know best, Mr. President God. But I do have to say you sound exactly like Donald Trump there."