Harry Does Dallas: Ghosts Of Deep Ellum (Photo Essay)

Deep Ellum is Dallas's own little slice of a Bohemian arts district. Were my location one of choice in the DFW area, I would hope to find a home near there for artistic people lower my guard and ease my breathing. Dallas is a corporate city with unflattering insecurities lying underneath. There's much of a "Please like me for my BMW" mindset here which like all pretensions is fatally boring. But that ain't Deep Ellum.

I'd decided on spending the day in Dallas, starting it off with an always fantastic turkey burger from Twisted Root Burger. Here's a helpful tip on going there: get there early, like five-minutes-before-they-open early. I was fourth in line and by the time I finished my meal the line was 20 deep - and that's just the people outside on the sidewalk.



But it was while I was sitting there munching away, reading a delightful article in the Dallas Observer about a resurgence in the Oak Cliff area that I got the idea to do a photo essay on Deep Ellum. Hell, I was there already and I make it my custom now to bring my camera along. Bad news was the temperature had dropped 15 degrees and a very steady drizzle soaked my unprepared ass as I strolled along the streets. But we artists must suffer!

Unfortunately, Deep Ellum as of 2010 is dead:






The sign says "Velvet Hookah". Catchy, huh? Shame it's closed.
Here's some artwork on the side of the building:



Deep Ellum has artwork all over the place. Here are just a few examples:






You might recognize Norah Jones here



There area was originally an industrial one. From wiki:

The area got its start in 1884 when Robert S. Munger built his first factory, for the Munger Improved Cotton Machine Company, in what is now Deep Ellum. In 1913, Henry Ford opened an assembly plant here to supplement the manufacture of the Ford Model T at the Detroit plant. In 1916, the first building built for and by blacks in Dallas—The Grand Temple of the Black Knights of Pythias—was built in Deep Ellum at Good-Latimer and Elm Street, later turned in to the Union Bankers Building

Remnants remain from its original roots:









Deep Ellum is situated due East of downtown Dallas. Its name stems from a corruption of "deep Elm street". Elm street cuts all the way through downtown, leading past the School Book Depository at the other end. The de facto dividing line between downtown and Deep Ellum is the I-45 highway and its merging overpasses.






A straight shot down Elm.

But Deep Ellum's richest tradition, though, is its heritage of blues music and back in the day it had its share of heavy hitters:

Deep Ellum became distinguished as a prime jazz and blues hotspot in the South. Artists such as Blind Lemon Jefferson, Robert Johnson, Huddie "Leadbelly" Ledbetter, and Bessie Smith played in Deep Ellum clubs like The Harlem and The Palace.

In 1937, a columnist described Deep Ellum as:

“ ...[the] one spot in the city that needs no daylight saving time because there is no bedtime...[It is] the only place recorded on earth where business, religion, hoodooism, gambling and stealing goes on at the same time without friction...Last Saturday a prophet held the best audience in this 'Madison Square Garden' in announcing that Jesus Christ would come to Dallas in person in 1939. At the same time a pickpocket was lifting a week's wages from another guy's pocket, who stood with open mouth to hear the prophecy.

Deep Ellum in more recent times has cycled between thriving and dying. And while it's more dead than alive now, there are some large scale plans in the works by a couple of developers to buy up huge swaths of real estate and restore things to their former glory. The timetable for that depends on when (if?) the economy gets rolling again. In the meantime, some legendary places have closed:


The Bone (Club Dada to the right)


Club Dada, proving ground for the Old 97s and the New Bohemians


Daddy Jacks, an upscale eatery

Some places have thrived even through the down turns, having developed a loyal following:


I actually went to church camp with the owner, Pete Zotos.
I haven't looked him up because he, uh, might remember me.


Tattoo joints do well here.


This place is straight out of Austin with its cool funkiness

Regardless of what its current condition may be, Deep Ellum is always a must-see stop when visiting Dallas. So if you get the chance, come on down!



------------------------------



Walked up Ellum an' I come down Main,
Tryin' to bum a nickel jes' to buy cocaine.
Ho, Ho, baby, take a whiff on me

Slaying Dragons With One Hand Tied Behind My Back

There's an evil in the Forest. Nameless and dark, no one speaks of it openly but rather in whispers with tentative looks over the shoulder. It's as if to admit it exists is to admit one's own doom. Yes, deep within the gloomy, towering trees beats a heart of death, hungry for the souls of men...

Do you ever practice maneuvers in your home? You should. Using complete tactical precision, I slide from wall to wall, tumbling across the living room from behind the couch to the easy chair station, awaiting the movements of potential enemies. When - not if - they come, I'll be ready. Close quarters fighting, diversionary devices, cleverly concealed booby traps - I pity the storm troopers who storm me!

My TV plays an endless loop of film clips designed to keep my mind razor sharp at all times, rotating between Rambo, The Professional, Scarface, Enemy of the State and The Princess Bride. It goes something like this: "I always thought the mind was the greatest weapon"..."Is life always this bad or does it get better when you get older?" "Always this bad"..."Say hello to my little friend!"..."But if this is somebody's unilateral wet dream, that somebody is going to jail!"..."Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." "Stop saying that!"

I guess you could say being a hero just comes natural to me.

***

The Forest hides its evil well. Only the purest of hearts can pass through alive - and all must pass through. Like a spider's web, no movement is undetected, deception can lie only from within. The story is the branches grow so thick, so intermingled, sunlight never reaches the shrouded ground and in this unholy union festers a will to bend human souls...

I fasten the tripwire across the front door. If opened, the pin is pulled from a fuse-shortened grenade giving any intruders an education they'll learn only too late. On my wall a samurai sword, a 32 inch razor to slice through the foolish impudence of any adversaries. On top of the fridge - behind my oh so innocent Igloo cooler - lies my Glock, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. But the pantry holds the greatest surprise of all: an Uzi in my Cocoa Puffs. No need to add milk.

Like the world, I keep my power hidden, putting on a hypocritical display for the mindless masses. The truth suits them like a pungee stick to the eye, but a lie? The fear-filled fools will stand in line just to swallow a glimpse of paradise lost. That's my real protection; their own self-delusions keep me safe. I can hide where they dare not look in themselves. I imagine shooting the sheep with my spiritual shotgun. They never duck!

***

Ancient is the Forest, since long before man put air into his lusty lungs. Unconquerable are these musty woods for they are also the wellspring of life. "Do you have something to hide?" query the timbering giants, luring you into the "safety" of their lightless environs. My opponents reside there, planning my demise with impunity. No, the Forest cannot be beaten, only resisted.

A white car. I see it through the blinds this colorless, generic beast. Government cars aren't allowed to have personality. Two men, in suits - that's part of the act - looking official, intimidating the little people. They don't get out right away, talking to one another, making preparations, doubtless spitting on photos of me when I know they are the true traitors. What's that? An ear piece! A tactical unit must be close by! This means war!

I'm surprisingly calm - it's a relief to face the final showdown. But I'm not the willing sheep they hope I am! I institute emergency order 12, connecting my doorbell to a directional charge of C4. Yes, killing my truth will be harder than you think you moronic minions! Kiss my oppressed ass! Feel the love! Maybe next time you'll think about giving peace a chance! Die fuckers, die! Here they come to lose the day!

The takedown went something like this

***

The firefight was glorious! I made it out alive - which really pissed them off. Yeah well, fuck 'em. I made bail. But I bet they won't be sending any more census takers to my door!

God Doesn't Care

Who you are


What you are


Where you are


How you are


What you do


What you think


What you believe


What you know


If you know


What you say


What you pray


Who you trick


How you live


What your dreams are


If you've lost all hope


If you've lost everything


If you're ugly or beautiful


If you're a hero or a coward


God doesn't give a flying flip if the whole world is falling apart and dying!


Not for a second or a minute, not now or ever or in dimensions with no time, under no circumtances that ever have been or will ever be, God doesn't care: your needs will never change.

America Is Like A Jewish Garden In WWII

In ignorance we trust

"You just want me to feel bad."

That's what every junkie says when you take away their needle. But what does one say to the willfully ignorant? The truth. There's a book (and great film) called The Garden of the Finzi-Continis, about a Jewish family insulated on their estate as the dark winds of anti-Semitism blow in around them. They work on their love lives and forehand strokes as store shop windows are smashed in and "Juden" scrawled across the doorway. There are warning signs of the coming danger but they don't want to feel bad and leave their estate.

Maybe they thought nothing would happen to them if they were "good". Maybe they fancied themselves as "optimists" on the world (confusing that with being optimistic on life). Maybe they were just weak. Whatever the case, their fate was that of a cattle car ride to a concentration camp. At that point - when it was too late - voices of "enemies" who told them to give up their worldly life were revealed as their true friends - and their "friends" who whispered sweet lies revealed as no friends at all.

I just finished reading Jeremy Scahill's shocking expose book Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Most Powerful Mercenary Army. While I read hearts to know what the truth is, I love reading books that expose our true actions and the details are riveting. In it he describes a de facto coup d'etat by American corporations to the point of threatening our sovereignty. Sounds alarmist, doesn't it? Chicken Little crap just to draw attention. Some people protect life in the garden, some people protect the truth.

I'll meet you in the cattle car

As of summer 2007, there were more "private contractors" deployed on the U.S. government payroll in Iraq (180,000) than there were actual soldiers (160,000).

I don't say America is on the path to destruction because of Blackwater, I say it because of the reasons forces like Blackwater are allowed to rise. Our military can no longer operate without the crutch of private contractors. Take them away and our war machine collapses. Pay up or pull out, pal. Military decisions no longer rest solely with our commanders. And corporations - the Caesars of our times - want only more power because that means more profits. These are the same corporations who blackmail us on our healthcare. They'll stop at nothing.

If you took an alien from another planet and plopped him down during the height of our outright rape and oppression by the American occupation, that alien if having even an once of justice within him would have been rooting for the death and slaughter of every American there. We carried out this evil with lust and abandon, ruthless in its infliction, howling in manufactured rage. It was free market principles applied to war: if you can be killed, you deserve to be killed. Doing it in the name of democracy and freedom made it all the more vile.

The only thing we wanted to liberate in Iraq was their oil.

From Naomi Klein:

[Occupation overlord Darth] Bremer enacted a radical set of laws unprecedented in their generosity to multinational corporations. There was Order 37, which lowered Iraq's corporate tax rate from roughly 40 percent to a flat 15 percent. There was Order 39, which allowed foreign companies to own 100 percent of Iraqi assets outside of the natural-resource sector. Even better, investors could take 100 percent of the profits they made out of the country; they would not be required to reinvest and they would not be taxed. Under Order 39, they could sign leases and contracts that would last for forty years. Order 40 welcomed foreign banks to Iraq under the same favorable terms. All that remained of Saddam Hussein's economic policies was a law restricting trade unions and collective bargaining.

If these policies sound familiar, it's because they are the same ones multinationals around the world lobby for from national governments and in international trade agreements. But while these reforms are only ever enacted in part, or in fits and starts, [anti-Christ] Bremer delivered them all, all at once. Overnight, Iraq went from being the most isolated country in the world to being, on paper, its widest-open market.

This brings no outrage

To be fair, we did give candy to their children. But the son of darkness Bremer's final order was his best: it was the one excluding private contractors from all possible prosecution. Which was a good thing for the Blackwater thugs, they were going to need that exemption.

Incompetence is a particularly rabid fetish of the conservative mind - which is natural considering conservatism is based upon irresponsible desire. Lacing our invasion with incompetence is like lacing pot with PCP, the damaging aspects increase exponentially. In their blind bid for profits, Blackwater recklessly sent four poorly informed and misguided mercenaries right into the thick of Iraqi resistance where they were duly killed and their dead bodies paraded around. This happened in the city of Fallujah.

I already posted on the Blackwater murders in Nisour Square but that's nothing compared to the siege of Fullajah triggered by Blackwater's profit lust. In order to make an example of the city, we bombed and snipered anyone and everyone, even seizing control of Fallujah's main medical facilities to prevent treatment of the wounded. Its power plant was also bombed so only mosques and clinics with generators had power. Not that mosques weren't bombed as well.

"It's hard to differentiate between people who are insurgents or civilians," said Maj. Larry Kaifesh. "It's hard to get an honest picture. You just have to go with your gut feeling." Now there's a comforting thought on our revenge filled fantasy.

You want outrage? Simon, shut yo mouth!

As reported by independent U.S. journalists: "Snipers fired indiscriminately, usually at whatever moved...friends of mine who went out to gather in wounded people were shot at...every single ambulance I saw had bullet holes in it...Of 20 people I saw come in the clinic I observed a few hours, only five were 'military-age males'. I saw old women, old men, a child of ten shot through the head; terminal..." But this is war and we were "forced" to go there and inflict indiscriminate collateral damage.

Mercenaries are now the private armies of politicians (morons need to read up on samurai history to learn the dangers of that), used when our military is not politically viable. Ever hear about our intervention in Azerbaijan in 2004? That's where we went to the Caspian sea to protect our oil and gas interests. That was a Blackwater solo operation because "sending a contingent of uniformed U.S. military would be a provocative move. A private contractor helps keeps things under the radar." A rose by any other name is just as lethal. With our private armies, the old rules don't apply, no Congressional (or popular) approval needed.

But if there's one thing Americans as a whole could care less about it's a dead foreigner. It's not like they're doing shit here, right? Blackwater is set apart from simple war profiteers by the defining characteristic of its executives' very long view. They...have set out to carve a permanent niche for themselves for decades to come. Blackwater's aspirations are not limited to international wars. Its forces beat most federal agencies to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina as hundreds of heavily armed mercenaries fanned out into the disaster zone...billing the government $950 a day per Blackwater soldier.



Nothing like guys with automatic rifles with out-of-control egos wandering around bound to no rules of engagement such as the military and police. This is on American soil, folks. [The anti-Christ 43rd President] used the Katrina disaster to try to repeal the Posse Comitus Act (the ban on using U.S. troops in domestic law enforcement), and Blackwater and other security firms initiated a push to install their paramilitaries on U.S. soil, bringing the war home in yet another ominous way. "This is a trend," said one Blackwater mercenary in New Orleans. "You're going to see a lot more guys like us in these situations." Now there's a prophet I trust.

But these are loving, kind, caring people seeking justice for all and rescuing cats from trees. Do we really need a constitution in this country when we already know everyone's trying to do the right thing? I think not! That's why I don't get upset when I read CCR's Michael Ratner's comments: "Their actions may not be subject to constitutional limitations that apply to both federal and state officials and employees - including First Amendment and Fourth Amendment rights...These kind[s] of paramilitary groups bring to mind Nazi Party brownshirts, functioning as an extrajudicial mechanism that can operate outside the law. The use of these paramilitary groups is an extremely dangerous threat to our rights."

Yeah, whatever.

"We must promote a more entrepreneurial approach: one that encourages people to be proactive, not reactive, and to behave less like bureaucrats and more like venture capitalists."

These literally insane words were written by Donald the Duck Rumsfeld in summer of 2002 in an article titled "Transforming the military". Private armies are a wet dream for the-powers-that-be, for sale to the highest bidder, with loyalty only to the almighty dollar, to be used any way their masters see fit. It's only a matter of time before oil spikes again, hitting $300 a barrel and more, wrecking the economies of the world and choking food supplies. Think Blackwater will find work then?

Hard to eat freedom of speech

So as the dark winds of greed blow in around us, we ache only to stay in our garden a little longer, avoiding all the "feel bad" news and gossiping excitedly about the tennis club. We're not ready to give up our ways just yet. Anyone who doesn't believe America is capable of fascism has never been unemployed. Wait long enough and the time for choice will pass. None of the Finzi-Continis survived.

Take it from someone who knows: if we really want to feel better, it comes only from facing our solutions.

The China Syndrome, The Price Of Silence

"You ain't gonna get what you want. I'm not going to get what I want.
Nobody wins. Such is the price of Silence."

My grandfather said that just before he died. He was talking to God. I was just a kid from the city hiding in the barn just 'cause I wanted to hide out. Visits to Gramp's ranch were like heading to a foreign country, never really sure of the rules of engagement. I remember asking myself if it really was OK to live on such a wonderland ranch - there was so much room to dream.

But when I heard Gramps come slamming his way in it sucked all the air out of the barn and I naturally crouched down in curious fear. He grabbed a pitchfork and stabbed clumps of hay like he wanted to kill them, slinging them angrily from one spot to another. All I could think about was staying out of the way.

"Jesus!" he spat, stopping to gather himself.

Yup, something had set him off alright. Hoped to hell it wasn't something I did. I was known for always doing the wrong thing - The Worst Thing Possible usually. So as I listened to my grandfather continue his string of expletives I frantically scoured my mind for any possible transgressions I may have done. For the life of me I couldn’t come up with any - but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

Then Gramps started in having his conversation. I found out who he was mad at: God.

"You just fucking hate me, don't you you goddam bastard! Why don't you just come down here and kill me you want me dead so goddam bad? You still mad for what we did do Jesus? Is that it? Well, I guess you didn't like his goddam ass too much better considering what you let happen to him. Jesus, there's no living with you!"



Gramps was venting but the steam stayed trapped within, his face redder with each passing word. "What's he so mad for?" I whispered to myself, secretly hoping the words could reach his ears. Startled the crap out of me when he replied out of nowhere: "Why don't you shut the fuck up!" Not that it was truly physically possible, but I scooted back even further in my corner.

"You're so goddam fucking smart, tell me what the fuck I should do! Jesus, I wish I could stick a knife in you the way you stick one in me. I got no way outta this shit! Do you hear me you deaf fucking son-of-a-bitch? No fucking way out!" That's how I was starting to feel too, reluctant witness that I was.

Then he flung the pitchfork away like a hot potato and stilled himself into a volcanic statue. I stopped breathing as well. I thought maybe he was deciding if he was going to kill somebody or not. I'd taken myself off the suspect list at this point - I was annoying but not that annoying - but nearest I could figure he wanted to kill God. Or...

Shit, he wanted to kill himself! I tried brushing the thought away but its wind was too strong. So now what do I do? His agony was like a live wire, snapping and curling every which way and I didn't dare get close to it. Who am I to tell someone suffering this badly to live anyway? Heaven seems so finite while hell is without end. The China Syndrome.



I can't imagine the look on my face at that moment. When I first heard about the China Syndrome it scared the shit out of me, but to witness it? Terrifying. An older cousin told me about it once, me wide-eyed in fear no doubt. She was talking about when a nuclear reactor melts down and if they don't stop it in time then there's no stopping it at all - the core cuts all the way through to China. Had Gramps reached that point?

I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to rush out to him. We'd been famous friends at one point, with me practically begging for return trips. We rode for hours on horses together as I pretended I was Daniel Boone exploring countryside for the first time. Gramps and I were so much alike! He called bullshit on everything same as I did. I'd just grin away when he'd start one of his rants. And he was damn funny too. I smile even now with the remembrance.

But mine was a burning soul and I couldn't resist lighting flame to a grassy field, just to watch it burn in fascination. I can still see my evil little hands striking the matches, pretending they wouldn't really burn. It was never the same after that. Gramps wasn't near as mad as I thought he'd be, saying lightening could have done the same thing. But I didn't know that.

My world inverted. Gramps never said a word to my parents - or anyone - about what I did. Mom and Dad sent me back like usual for my visits, thinking it pleased me. I had bragged on my famous friendship so much there was no taking it back. It was a living thing, clearly meant to last forever. But I was the Judas who destroyed all that while my grandfather remained the fine and noble person I so dearly admired. I was mystified how he tolerated me at all...



Silence consumed every corner of the barn. But it was the silence of a man with a dagger stuck in him as his mouth opens but no words can escape. And that was exactly the look on my grandfather’s face at that moment. A thousand possible responses crossed my mind to speak - all of them wrong, I was not programmed for moments like this. Then Gramps gave me a clue.

"She's gone," he stonily muttered. "What am I supposed to do?"

Did he mean Grandma? But that was two years ago she died - a lifetime ago in the tormented years of my youth. He was still missing her? Needing her even now? Was God so cruel Gramps was to miss her forever? Didn't his needs stop when she died? That would only be fair if you asked me. Nobody did though.

Grandfather pleaded to the ceiling. "I don't know what to do. Please tell me what to do." Then he crumpled to the ground in defeat, spirit wolves tearing his flesh apart, eating him alive. I know what my innocent soul would have done. An innocent soul would have rushed to his grandfather's huddled body and protected him. But I couldn't leave my prison of shame - giving me further sentence, staining my soul. Then I heard his final words on God's silence and how nobody wins...

He'd been funny that morning, cracking me up. I told him I wanted my eggs over easy but he was scrambling them instead, telling me in an accented voice, "We must cook the eggs this way or we lose the war!" It was in reference to his regiment's foreign born cook in WWII, whose excuse for everything was the outcome of the war depended on him doing things his way. Gramps loved the genius of his absurd argument and made the man mythic in my mind. Gramps made everyone seem mythic. To think he put on such a show for me when he was dying inside.

I've been running ever since that moment in the barn, never confessing my crime of silence. Afterwards, if someone gave me something I didn't want, I very politely said thank you. If I got something dear to me, I'd say nothing. I went the opposite way of my feelings before I could betray them like I had my famous friendship - the last of its kind for me. Yes, silence is like the China Syndrome - the destruction never stops.

Therapy Man Meets a Man In Need!

I'm alright!

It's good to be fixed! And it's good to have Answers. We like answers in this world of ours. Nice, simple ones to quell our disturbing minds. "Get thee to a therapist!" we like to say. And to hell if it really works for everyone or not.

Therapy just makes me want to go back to smoking pot. I heard it's improved in the last twenty years.

But sheep that I am, I succumb to peer pressure, put on a happy face and claim to be fixed. Gosh, just like being home all over again. Meet the new parent, same as the old parent. But secretly, way down deep inside, I still think ya'll are a bunch of lying, cocksucking assholes. But I don't say anything because I need a job. (Is that why you require jobs, so people will speak well of you even when undeserved?)

So dear friends I got the chance to put your alleged reality to the test yesterday when I passed some poor bastard hanging on the side of a cliff, moaning and groaning. "He needs therapy!" I thought. Hold on, dude, wisdom is just a word away!

"Help me! I'm going to die!'

"Shit, man, I know that feeling. It sucks! But one thing you need to know: you're not alone!"

"Aren't you going to help me the fuck out of here??"

"Sorry. I'm not the fixing lives business. You're on your own, pal."

"Heeeeelp!"

"Have you tried deep breathing? That helps."

"Deep breathing? Are you an idiot?"

"Name calling helps nothing and is an indication of immaturity. Here's a chance for you to grow up and listen to someone else."

"Deep breathing won't save me! I can't hold on forever."

"That's future-thinking! Stay in the now."

"Do you know what the word 'need' means? I need help. I can't get out of this position without help. Who can survive without their needs being met?"

"Interesting philosophy!"

"It's not philosophy! It's reality!"

"Oh, who's to say one person's version of reality is more true than another's? Tell me, have you tried prescription medications?"

"How can I call a doctor from here! I can't even move. My hands are killing me!"

Are you on any prescription medications?

"Precisely why medication will help. You're holding on to your pain. Meds will help you feel nothing at all."

"That's a total denial of reality!"

"Da Nile is a river in Egypt! Hahahaha!"

"You're mad!"

"No sir, you're projecting yourself onto me. Laughter's good for the soul!"

"This is not the time for laughing!"

"Dude, you can't keep feeding your negativity like that. No one's going to want to be friends with a sourpuss. C'mon, gimme a grin!"

"Your words are wasting time. I'm losing my grip listening to them!"

"Refusing therapy will most certainly cause you to lose your grip. Frankly, I don't know how you ever expect to feel better without diligent compliance."

"I just need a hand out of here."

"Now if I give a hand to you, then I'll have to give a hand to the next guy, and the guy after that and pretty soon there'll be no time left for me!"

"I'm so confused! Why are saying these things to me?"

"Therapy will help with your confusion."

"Fuck you! You don't understand anything!"

"Well, I certainly don't have to stand here and listen to that! I'm setting boundaries with you until you change your attitude. That is best for both you and for me."

"I hate you! I hate my life! I hate this whole fucking world!"

"Just not going to change that negative self-talk are you? OK, I give up. I see perfectly clear what you need now."

"Yes! Finally!"

"What you need is someone to talk to."

_______________________________________

Strap your hands across my engines

May I Borrow Five Pound And Two?

May I borrow five pound and two?
I'll write a lovely poem for you!
May I motor in your car?
I'll sing your praises from afar!

I keep a blog on the internet,
It's sure to change the world, I bet!
My words are the way to worldly riches!
(And maybe even hotty bitches!)

It's just a matter of time, you see
Before my big discovery!
To be called smart in your time
You'd wisely lend me your last dime.

I don't mean to cause undue pressure,
But my talent is one to treasure!
My dreams are beautiful, bright and true!
Just imagine what one more quid would do!

Let me take you to soaring new heights!
Words of love, the eternal delight!
Are not my entreaties a fun-fun thing?
Timeless art awaits your funding.

_____________________________

The 21st Century as a Star Wars Movie

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...


Sith Lords, long thought dead and vanquished, stage a devastating attack on the Alderon system, the crown jewel of the republic. Outrage enflamed the galaxy from one end to the other as the cry for war drowned out all other voices.

The Age of Peace and Prosperity was over, proven illusory. A New Order was demanded - by faces shrouded in secrecy. The fabric of the galaxy unraveled exactly as the Sith Lords had designed. This change - a warping in the path of the universe - came in the twinkling of an eye.

Luke Streetwalker, abandoned and outcast for his warnings against the Sith Lords during the Age of Prosperity, seeks to piece together a rebel alliance to restore a time of love. But though his message on the Sith Lords is now heeded, Luke fights an uphill battle to stop the spread of war fever which will ravage the Alderon system even further...

"Luke, you pussy! We have to have war! Don't be so naive!"

The chastising came from a right-wing droid. (All droids were right-wing by virtue of their programming coming from eGeeks, a malcontent, anti-social and masturbatory lot bent on running the universe from their mother's basement). Luke rummaged through the remains of his home, furious at the insanity of it - yet determined to stop it. The droid prattled on. "You just going to stand there and take it? Time for war! Yeehaw!"

Annoyed, Luke switched off the Beck droid knowing it's pointless to argue with a mindless entity. But words of war surrounded him wherever he went. Even the local cantina played war songs and sold "freedom food" in honor of the new sentiment. Though having been right on the Sith Lords - that being out of sight meant only the greed ran deeper - his message for fighting them was lost all over again. Reason had died with the attack.


Luke cried as he saw precious farmland poured over in concrete as munitions plants replaced nature's plants. Just as he feared, food production fell but with the storehouses still full from the Age of Prosperity no one concerned themselves such troubling trivialities. Luke knew he would need help and he found it in his reprogrammed droid R2Cat2 bringing him a message from Princess SlayYa, telling him of another voice speaking out against the war: barack-wan kenobi.

An alliance was formed. Princess SlayYa, renowned across the galaxy as the finest fencer with a light sabre ("You can't hope to win - only for a draw."), teamed with Luke in search of barack-wan and his audacious powers of hope. Time did not stand still, however, as the sky darkened with fighters launching off to battle cheered by droids and eGeeks and the rest of the simple-minded. In the Imperial Senate, the President declared the end of democracy - and that too was cheered.

The war had begun; the war declared done; the war never won.

___________________________________

The Drone Wars and a Horrible Truth Is Revealed

As the republic became an empire bound by war and famine...


War begat war. And even after victory declared, more and more troops were demanded until even the mercenary forces of Blackwater Fett were called in. Still, war lust ran high in the Alderon system, no one questioning the ever increasing powers of the Emperor-President or conduct of the attacks. The rebel alliance reached its darkest hour.

But with the flow of body bags returning and reports of hundreds of thousands of deaths infecting the Alderon soul, an ill feeling arose in far off segments of the galactic front. But though support was fading at the edges, a searing core of hatred propelled the wars forward against all dissent.

The Imperial Senate lost all power, cowering before the Emperor-President. Had the Alderon system gone too far? Were its motives as pure as claimed? Quietly, the rebel alliance investigated the truth as reality strayed further and further from the Official Explanations. As the anti-war movement gained a foothold, the rebels discover a secret too terrible to be believed...

Contact had been made with barack-wan kenobi, his campaign to enter the Imperial Senate a successful one. But with all power stripped from the governing body, he was forced to use the power of his Jedi mind, swaying millions with his words. "Hope," he said, "is not lost." Talks brewed of his possible takeover of the Presidency.

"This is Princess SlayYa," introduced Luke, "be stupid at your own peril." Using her unparalleled skill, her lightening sabre cut through all idiotic arguments, exposing the illogic of war for war's sake. But it was like fighting a hydra, another false argument popping up with each one slayed. "Victory" could only be seen in the shrillness of each new contention for the wars, hysterical and out of touch. In a fatal error, the people of the Alderon system soon disengaged from the debate, hoping both sides were wrong.

Luke, meanwhile, penetrated the highest echelons of the empire in an attempt to find the truth for the escalations. Good news was not expected when he found he could slide his way in by using a cloak of evil. With anxious ears Luke listened to words of infamy hissed from the newly declared Emperor.


"Everything is going as planned, Darth Cheney!" The Vice-President a Sith Lord! Can't be! "Our profit per soldier is skyrocketing. The more we get killed the more the manipulated masses insist we stay! It's like a dream come true! Money! Death! Power! And how can they speak against us without speaking against themselves? We are the greatest liars in history! The Force is with us!"

Darth Cheney bowed before his master who had escaped all blame in the intentionally botched battles. Such was his master's powers, no criticism could touch him, responsibility deflected to "bad advisors" for this "well-meaning" man. Perversion gripped the solar system as incompetence was sympathized, greed normalized, and wishful thinking worshipped as the truth. The dark lord Cheney brought more good news.

"There's a resolution before the Senate to raise you from Emperor to Daddy. Once done, our rule will be permanent - barring the sheep actually grow up."

Luke's worst fears had been confirmed. Those immature bastards! They've taken over everything! It's true after all: our Daddy is a Sith Lord!

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Episode III: Return Of The Big Lie

Pain has come to the empire. Starvation is spreading even as wars carry on unabated. A cry for change rings out...


With suffering came a call for change. barack-wan kenobi's star rose as an anxious empire sought salvation from the unbearable Sith overlords. Princess SlayYa rallied support for a new hope with her impeccable logic finally grinding away at the consciousness of the Alderon people. At long last the winds of war were changing direction.

Tears of joy flowed and fireworks exploded with barack-wan's toppling of the reviled Sith lords. Order and respect were deemed restored in the empire. Years of blatant corruption rotted the infrastructure, money-lenders had hoodwinked millions with governmental complicity, and a war-weary populace ached for relief. Overflowing crowds applauded the new Daddy (barack-wan retained the Sith Lord's powers).

But Luke Streeetwalker never saw a change in the hearts of his Alderon cohabitants, observing rather a mere reaction to their newfound anguish. Was true change on the horizon - or simply a mirage? Was this as times before, when the Sith Lords appeared overthrown but in reality still ruled from the shadows? Luke had to find the answers to these questions before his soul could rest with the Force.

With the promise of change, the anti-war movement died down even with a waxing of the wars. The economy of the Alderon system had collapsed under the weight of greed unleashed by the Sith Lords. And yet even more was taken from the needy and given to profiteers - with nary a whisper of serious dissent. The power seized by the Sith Lords was not only not returned, but increased. But the new Official Story was things had changed for the better, no need to worry. From the Dark Side of the Force a knowing laughter could be heard.

Yes, the Sith Lords had won once again by going underground. barack-wan kenobi used his mind tricks for what he said he believed was good. "These are not the banks you're looking for. Move right along," he soothed to a group of infuriated Sand Traders whose land had been swindled. Useless Idiots screamed in fanaticism to support barack-wan or the evil Sith Lords would return to power and all would be lost. The policies did not stop but the protests did. The Grand Deception sealed with a kiss.

The last of the Jedi of the Light, Luke walked a lonely road. He frowned as children were pushed away by their parents. "Stop your whining, brats! Everything is fine! Now shut up or no one will love you!" Later, he saw those same parents pushed away by the Imperial Senate - only this time the parents were told to shut up or be unloved. They complied lest their own words be used against them, the Grand Deception upheld. From tangled webs as these did still the Sith Lords pull the strings. Nothing had changed and the Word was neither spoken nor heard.


So what will they do when they do when they find their money and their military won't save them?

A Presidential Conversation

Who am I?

The one true leader for these times

Who am I?

A uniter, not a divider

Who am I?

The agent for change that must happen

Who am I?

A practical man who knows the real solutions

Who am I?

A dreamer of people's hopes!

Who am I?

The voice of integrity, exposing corruption

Who am I?

A dedicated soul, willing to sacrifice myself for the good of all

Who am I?

A man unafraid of making unpopular decisions

Who am I?

A man for reform and new beginnings

Who am I?

A savior of the nation, the world, and mankind itself!

May I ask: who is telling me these things?

Uh, well, it's not God...


Funny, last guy had this same conversation every day

________________________________________________

Signs Of The Wind

Touching of two souls;
Tenderness lost in the wind;
Broken heart remains.

_________________________________


There once was a time when a grown man could squat down in the grocery store in front of a small child and say, "Hello, little girl!" and the mother would say, "What a nice man!"

Then came a time when a grown man would squat down in the grocery store in front of a small child and the mother would whisk her away, telling her daughter, "Don't talk to strangers!"

Now when a grown man squats down in the grocery store in front of a small child and says, "Hello, little girl!" he is whisked away and charged as a pedophile and branded 'sex offender' for life.

This is the sign of a growing soul?

_________________________________


There once was a time war profiteering was considered high treason, a betrayal of the public trust and the most cowardly of acts.

Then came a time when peace was more feared than war and the profiteering became a "necessary evil" in the partnership of dealing death.

Now war is an addiction, endless and always needing to up the dosage; waged solely for profit.

This is the sign of a growing soul?

_________________________________


There once was a time a man could work well and make a social contract for living, his common fortune raising the boats of everyone.

Then came a time the boats of others mattered no more, each man concerned with his fate alone, lowering the tide of every man's living.

Now the water is evaporating, the social contract long ripped to shreds and what boats are left demand the remaining water for themselves - and get it.

This is the sign of a growing soul?

_________________________________


Blame it on policies or politics or pettiness - but those too are mere signs of the wind. There are those who weave the fabric of society and those who tear it apart - each side calling the other the enemy of good. I know I cannot change which way the wind blows, but if my wind blows true this feather will land where it belongs.

He is a feather in the wind