God Damn The Church (Pussy Riot Verdict Is A Verdict On The Church)

Pussy Riot jailed for two years

As Arnold would say, Putin is a girly man and as such is expected to act as such. Nor does he pretend to be anything other than the agent of evil his actions say he is. But the Russian Orthodox Church does have such pretensions and today it has been found guilty of hooliganism. Without the complicit help of the church, Pussy Putin could never have pulled off this farce.

To use the words of the Pontius Pilate judge, the church is guilty of the following:

"Hatred towards Christians"

"Openly displaying disrespect" not just for those in the cathedral but for all Orthodox Christians

"Degraded the moral feeling"

The church's crime is a conspiracy driven by hatred of religion and the court does "not trust" the testimony of the church because it is an attempt to "evade justice" and proven to be false

Just how much has this organization whored itself out? A true Christian explains:

Christians are still persecuted to this day

That Christ the Savior Cathedral had become a significant symbol in the political strategy of the authorities was clear to many thinking people when Vladimir Putin’s former [KGB] colleague Kirill Gundyayev took over as leader of the Russian Orthodox Church. After this happened, Christ the Savior Cathedral began to be openly used as a flashy backdrop for the politics of the security forces, which are the main source of political power in Russia.

Why did Putin feel the need to exploit the Orthodox religion and its aesthetic? After all, he could have employed his own, far more secular tools of power—for example, the state-controlled corporations, or his menacing police system, or his obedient judicial system. It may be that the harsh, failed policies of Putin’s government, the incident with the submarine Kursk, the bombings of civilians in broad daylight, and other unpleasant moments in his political career forced him to ponder the fact that it was high time to resign; that otherwise, the citizens of Russia would help him do this. Apparently, it was then that he felt the need for more persuasive, transcendent guarantees of his long tenure at the pinnacle of power. It was then that it became necessary to make use of the aesthetic of the Orthodox religion, which is historically associated with the heyday of Imperial Russia, where power came not from earthly manifestations such as democratic elections and civil society, but from God Himself.

How did Putin succeed in this? After all, we still have a secular state, and any intersection of the religious and political spheres should be dealt with severely by our vigilant and critically minded society. Right? Here, apparently, the authorities took advantage of a certain deficit of the Orthodox aesthetic in Soviet times, when the Orthodox religion had an aura of lost history, of something that had been crushed and damaged by the Soviet totalitarian regime, and was thus an opposition culture. The authorities decided to appropriate this historical effect of loss and present a new political project to restore Russia’s lost spiritual values, a project that has little to do with a genuine concern for the preservation of Russian Orthodoxy’s history and culture.

False Christians disrupted their worship

It was also fairly logical that the Russian Orthodox Church, given its long mystical ties to power, emerged as the project’s principal exponent in the media. It was decided that, unlike in the Soviet era, when the church opposed, above all, the brutality of the authorities toward history itself, the Russian Orthodox Church should now confront all pernicious manifestations of contemporary mass culture with its concept of diversity and tolerance.

Implementing this thoroughly interesting political project has required considerable quantities of professional lighting and video equipment, air time on national television for hours-long live broadcasts, and numerous background shoots for morally and ethically edifying news stories, where the Patriarch’s well-constructed speeches would in fact be presented, thus helping the faithful make the correct political choice during a difficult time for Putin preceding the election. Moreover, the filming must be continuous; the necessary images must be burned into the memory and constantly updated; they must create the impression of something natural, constant, and compulsory.

Our sudden musical appearance in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior with the song “Mother of God, Drive Putin Out” violated the integrity of the media image that the authorities had spent such a long time generating and maintaining, and revealed its falsity. In our performance we dared, without the Patriarch’s blessing, to unite the visual imagery of Orthodox culture with that of protest culture, thus suggesting that Orthodox culture belongs not only to the Russian Orthodox Church, the Patriarch, and Putin, but that it could also ally itself with civic rebellion and the spirit of protest in Russia.

Perhaps the unpleasant, far-reaching effect of our media intrusion into the cathedral was a surprise to the authorities themselves. At first, they tried to present our performance as a prank pulled by heartless, militant atheists. This was a serious blunder on their part, because by then we were already known as an anti-Putin feminist punk band that carried out its media assaults on the country’s major political symbols.

In the end, considering all the irreversible political and symbolic losses caused by our innocent creativity, the authorities decided to protect the public from us and our nonconformist thinking. Thus ended our complicated punk adventure in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior.

Satan's minions arrest Freedom fighter Gary Kasparov

As you can see, when Pussy Riot performed in the church, they were the only Christians there. They were saving it, cleansing its corrupt spirit. Naturally, its corrupt leaders and followers were aghast, anxious to prevent these true believers from exposing the frauds who believe in the church over God.

But just as the church leaders helped put Jesus on the cross, so today has another corrupt government with a rigged trial and another corrupt church force the innocent to pay for the sins of the guilty. It has been said that all it takes for evil to win is for good men to sit idly by. This is not true. Good men don't sit idly by, they rot if they do.

Today, Russia in all her glorious self-pity has set back by decades any progress she has made towards freedom and democracy. It's not just three young women who will pay, but all Russian people. A Russia who has made herself the laughingstock of the world. A Russia who is once again dominated by eavesdropping ears to put away all her imagined "enemies". It does not have to be this way. As always, freedom is there for the taking if we choose it.

Oh, My God! I'm A Jew!!!!

A funny thing happened on the way to the anti-Semitic rally...

Rising star of Hungarian anti-Semitic party forced to resign after he discovers his Jewish heritage

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: you are what you protest. Who but the witch most needs to prove others a witch? Who but a porn loving priest condemns porn the loudest? The world is just full of con men waiting for suckers to buy their bullshit.

But the really funny part here is the self-righteous purge by those who fail in their dickheadedness!

He was a rising star in Hungary's far-right Jobbik Party, and was notorious for his incendiary anti-semitic comments - including attacks on the 'Jewishness' of the political elite; but Csanad Szegedi's career as an ultra-nationalist standard bearer now looks to be over after the revelation that he is in fact Jewish.

Following the revelation the 30-year-old has been politically exiled from Jobbik, and his career has been left in ruins. He resigned from the party last month after concerted pressure.

Yes, in true Stalinistic and Tea Party fashion, those unable to hate will be expelled! "We must maintain the purity of our self-loathing!" Sort of like getting kicked out of the KKK for hugging a black man.

Like all self-hate groups, they like to play dress up
and march around and (mostly) pray like hell
someone pays them attention.

See, when you start a group where you hit yourself on the head with a hammer and someone suddenly stops, well, all the sudden you realize what a moron you truly are. That or you shout "Purge! Keep stupidity alive!" For some people, all life is about is getting that pat on the back no matter how insane or egregious your conduct (Hi, 43rd President!). As long as one person tells them, "Ya done good!" that's enough for them to spend eternity in hell. Yessiree, you be smart!

In related right wing nut news, simultaneous purges have been taking place around the world. Former Vice President Cheney has been banned from the Republican Party after doctors discovered he had a heart after all. Party members were outraged. "He sure fooled us! God knows he never acted like he had one!" Even the current Presidential race has been affected after candidate Romney revealed he paid his maid a "living wage". Business leaders across the country have vowed "not to stand for this sort of immoral and irresponsible behavior. Next thing you know he'll expect us to do it!"

As a footnote, in keeping with the ironic nature of the universe, Szegedi has met with a Rabbi, apologized for his previous remarks and intends to pay his respects at Auschwitz. You see, the poor bugger just needed to belong to a group - any group. All you need is love!

Come on, clap your hands!

The Best Thing About Being An EX International Assassin

"Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall."

Measure for Measure (Act II, Scene I)

********

"Oh, God, please don't let me die like this. Please don't let me die. I'm not saying I deserve to live, but please don't let me die like this..."

********

God greases the skids to living when you're wicked with passionate intensity, but man, the minute you step off that train you get run over by the train. It's when you try to go straight when the shit really hits the fan. Maybe there was more to my life of sin than I gave credit to. All I know is everything is shit now.

There's this new voice in my head. I call it the Lecture Voice. I know it's wrong and stupid and guilt induced and yet still I heed its word! Just fucking insane! Can someone explain this to me, please? Oh yeah, that's right. All you straights are as fucked up as I am.

Well, not all...

There was Melissa, sitting next to me in first class. One of my covers while traveling is a photographer. It's great because it gives me an excuse to surveil my target and surrounding areas legitimately. I'm no pro but I know my way around a camera enough to cover my ass in a conversation or at least cut it short if it goes too deep like a pro might.

But I guess I'm a fucking character actor. Posing as Mr. Photographer I truly wished to become that person. Melissa was funny and honest and true - not like anyone I had met before. I had no intention of reaching for her, that would be like reaching for the stars. But, damn, what a woman! A woman only available to an honest man. Not my kind.

Once that thought entered I couldn't get it out of my head. The more I argued against it the more I wanted to do it. Maybe not a photographer but something to get out. To give life a chance like I never have before. Perhaps things aren't so dire as they seem. Then suddenly I find myself looking through a scope and I had no idea why I was doing what I was doing.

Losing focus for a hit man - in any sense - is fatal.

That's when I knew I had to get out if I were to survive. Shit! I was being dragged down a path over which I had no control. That's only for "other people", not me. That's when trouble starts. That's when the shit hits the fan and God says, "Aha! Now I've got you." Sort of like when Scarface killed his associate rather than the small children in the car.

You know how in the movies that sooner or later the hit man's boss turns on him and wants him rubbed out? It's like that in every assassin film! But I'll be damned if that's not what happened to me! Since I literally know where the bodies are buried they figure why take the chance on me living.

But I couldn't bring myself to believe my life had deteriorated beyond repair.

There's this old house I return to, very modest - where I grew up, actually. It's my safe house. Returning to any place I'd been before was a bad idea, I know. I knew better, but I couldn't do better. I so badly wanted to have one safe spot in the world. One place to call home. It just had to be - had to be!

And that's when Lecture Voice kicked in. "If this really is a home you'll relax and act like it is! You need to prove this is your home! Everyone else has one, why don't you??" So I did the thing most vulnerable: I took off all my clothes, getting ready for a shower. Walking around the house naked I feel a sense of elation, of freedom. I am loved in the world after all!

But part of me (guiltily) stayed on alert. Not a moment too soon I noticed the outside shadow. By habit I'd not turned on any lights despite the dusky hour. That one habit gave me just enough edge to hide - in the dirty laundry.

There's a chute right by the middle bathroom just big enough for me to squeeze into with some laundry still inside. Luckily enough I hate doing laundry so I climbed in and buried myself under the sweat stained shirts and smelly socks. And all I could think about was the headline reading of a man shot naked in his stinky laundry hamper. What a way to go out!

"Oh, God, please don't let me die like this. Please don't let me die. I'm not saying I deserve to live, but please don't let me die like this..."

I could hear those same measured footsteps I used to make. Fortunately for me, I knew every squeak in the floorboards and every creak in the joints. In order to make oneself invisible, one must not even recognize one's own presence. You must convince yourself you're not there, a black hole. It's an art I've perfected over time. You have to not be sensed.

I know what you're thinking: why not use my gun? Well, Lecture Voice wouldn't let me keep it. My gun was too much a part of me, part of my pride. It was a fine custom made piece, an extension of my arm like a pool player's Balabushka. It was for my personal protection only but Lecture Voice demanded, "No guns!" If I kept a gun it means I didn't really quit. Goddam, I hate rules! It's why I got into the business in the first place.

"Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed."

King Henry the Sixth, Part I (Act V, Scene II)

Fighting the urge for self-recrimination, I froze my mind, body and spirit. An assassin must have the senses of a blind man, to "see" a presence. If they were super top notch they'd shoot every crevice first and ask questions later. But they only searched and stalked...searched and stalked...

Fear became me. I had only two choices: give in to it or give in to trust. I had to admit it may be too late in my life for a time to trust, burned too many bridges to find a way back. Logically, these men were pros and I had no chance. In fact, it was ridiculous to even entertain the thought I'd get out alive unless I got a lucky headlong rush. But with two of them, the odds of that working were too slim to even calculate. Fuck! How did I get into this position??

When the silencer slowly opened the laundry chute to peek inside, an eerie calm came over me. I gave in to the trust. The Lord's will be done. If there's no way out left for me then so be it. Stupidity is the one crime that never goes unpunished. If I die, I really can't be pissed about it. Then the chute cover snapped back and I waited for the bullets to come.

Instead, I heard whispered voices.

"He's got to be here. There's his fucking clothes."

"You have no idea how cagey this son-of-a-bitch is. You know what boss man said, don't underestimate him. When you think you've got him, he's got you!"

"Fuck! Then those clothes are an obvious ruse and he's probably lining us up as we speak."

"Let's get the fuck out while we still can!"

I couldn't believe it. They outsmarted themselves. As a rule I tried to psyche out most everyone I met just so they would make a mistake like that. Never thought it would work! Whenever serendipity fell into my lap on a job I claimed it was my plan all along, done with my keen sense of insight. It's the kind of bullshit statement you can only get away with on people who have little or no insight, but for the most part that was who I as dealing with.

I was shaking when I finally exited the hamper. The house was completely dark now - just like my life. It was intolerable for me to think of Melissa reading the headline about my death. That I had fooled her so badly, that I died at the hands of vile men in utter ignominy. It was her brilliant eyes thinking I was somebody - it was me thinking I was somebody.

I crawled into my empty childhood bedroom, the place where I pretended to be James Bond and Captain Kirk. Who would have thought decades later I'd be in that same room hounded by hit men, my life a complete mess. How can I ever go up to the Melissa's of the world and honestly say, "That was my life then, this is my life now"? Hell, I don't even know how to have a life. Just lie. And kill.

Maybe it is too late. Maybe the whole world is laughing at me thinking I can avoid the inevitable bullet to come the minute I relax. Where's Melissa now, ya think? Probably at some party being witty and funny and flashing that winning smile of hers. Boy, did she know how to make the straight life be exciting! She'll never know how much she affected me, changing the entire course of my life. That's what a shining star can do.

Been a long time since I've had such a helpless smile on my grim face, just thinking of her. And that's certainly the best part of being an ex international assassin: for once, I can smile.

Kick Ass, World Class Taiko Drums!!

OK, I realize this post won't have wide appeal but I had one of the most exhilarating nights I've had in a long time. Walking out of the auditorium I just wanted to go running and screaming - and beat on a drum! Actually, I guess I should back up and start from the beginning. But as we say in Texas, all I could afterwards was "Daaaayum!"

The free performance from the Fujisan Kaen Taiko Group was part of a series of weeks long events between North Texas and Japan. Not sure how much is open to the public like this was but you can bet I'll be sticking my nose in as much as possible. Here's a few blurbs from the official website:

The Japan-America Grassroots Summit is an annual gathering of Japanese and American citizens, held alternately in Japan and the United States. Each year an average of 200 people travel across the Pacific to take part. The Summit aims to strengthen the peaceful relationship between the two countries by fostering friendships at the grassroots level.

The 2012 Grassroots Summit will take place in North Texas, where we look forward to welcoming people of all ages from all parts of Japan. Opening in Fort Worth and closing in Dallas, the week-long Summit will span the scope of Texas's cowboy heritage and cultural achievements. Communities across North Texas will open their homes and hearts to Japanese visitors for a three-night local homestay program. We hope this grassroots exchange will enrich many lives and lead to lasting friendships between the people of Japan and North Texas.

The 22nd America-Japan Grassroots Summit is organized by the Japan-America Society of Dallas/Fort Worth and the John Manjiro Whitfield Commemorative Center for International Exchange in Japan and the U.S. It is presented in cooperation with the Consulate-General of Japan in Houston, host cities, and community organizations.

While I've seen many Taiko drum performances at the semi-annual festivals at the Fort Worth Japanese gardens those quite naturally weren't on the level of this show. Their dedication and precision were obvious throughout the performance. Plus, well, they are from the Japans! I was a happy boy! Below is the introduction and opening number.



What also made it special is their emphasis on using kids in their show. This gave a feeling that only children can bring, of joy and innocence and exuberance (though there definitely were some adult children in the group!). I don't know her name but the girl below was the star of the show to me. I wonder how many other people in the crowd were also asking themselves, "Who is she??" I was completely taken with her.



Check out some of her bad-ass, going-to-town work here:



Here's some background on the group from their flyer:

Founded in 1985 to create a new creative and traditional art form in our hometown, we are celebrating our 27th year. We currently have 30 active members. We mainly participate in local festivals and events. Upon our founding we were originally composed of adults, but in the last 10 years as admiration from kids and studies in music increased, approximately half of our members are now children, and we are moving to become a mainly child-centered group. In 27 years, we have performed overseas 5 times: Chamonix, France (1995, 2008), Colorado Springs (1998, 2005), and Lyon, France (1999). As much as possible we participate in grassroots international exchange by introducing Taiko as a traditional part of Japanese culture and by joining local homestays.

The crowd went wild over the show but where it really got special was in the auditorium lobby afterwards where they decided to perform their final number and also allow audience participation. Here the performers were allowed to relax and let their hair down and the sheer joy of performing shine through. It was a great bonding experience and one I'll never forget.

Just having fun now!

Never too young to start!

Soon, a whole lineup of Gaijin players!

Cross cultural bonding!

Here's a short video from the lobby performance:



It was a wonderful, wonderful evening, one I'll long remember. I was very excited looking forward to getting this taste from the Japans and it did not let me down one bit. In fact, it only whet my appetite for more. Long live the Japans!

Click here to see the entire photo set.

Why So Angry??

Sometimes a boy's just got to get his ya-yas out to make him feel better. That's when I grabs me a gun and some gas-o-line!

Home invasions are vastly under-rated as a form of self-entertainment. All the shrieking and wailing is hilarious! Why is it everyone expects to be safe? Life is hard. Deal with it!

So after I get me a family cornered, I cover them in duct tape like Egyptian mummies where they can't move not at all. Only thing I leave open is their mouths cuz they so funny to listen to!

Usually goes something like this. "You're not going to get away with this! I'm going to get you if it's the last I thing I do! Blah, blah, blah!" It's funny to see what it takes for some folks to start standing up for themselves. Amazing what a little terror can do! Now that you're helpless and I got a gun on you, NOW you start fighting. Too late, bitch!

But I does enjoy the conversation. "Won't get away it? Been doing this for years. Millions do it every day! Have been since like forever. Somebody's got to pay for my sins - ain't gonna be me!"

When I tell that to them they really starts to squirm! Only guy who didn't get pissed when I said that was this investment banker dude. Guess he been doin' same thing for too long to notice.

But despite my impeccable logic, they still keep bitching! That's when I got to set them straight.

"You people got a home! Tons of folks out there got no home at all. People starving, bombs dropping, shit happening everywhere. You people need to shut the fuck up and appreciate what you got! Just because I'm fixin' to burn it all down is no reason to complain - ever!"

That's when they usually start calling me all sorts of names. I'm telling you I learn me some nifty new words this way. Then I gotta wag my finger and asks them just what they think they gonna accomplish by calling folks names? Grow up, peeps! You need to be discussing things in a civilized manner. Pretty bad when a murder arsonist has to teach you manners! Get a grip!

But the real screaming starts when I start pouring the gasoline. Just something about the smell of it that excites me like nothing else. Gets them duct tape mummies all riled up too. I don't pay them no mind. I'm having too much fun! If peeps is angry and name callin' and bitchin', you just know they in the wrong!

"Yeehaw! I feel just like them medieval priests burning people at the stake - or maybe even a President. If only I could get my hands on a drone like the big boys got! What's this world coming to when you let folks like that be running around? Oh, yeah, it's come to this!"

It's when the flames first start I first start thinking about the afterwards. Them media hacks is so funny too! Sometimes I pick a black family and they start saying I must hate niggers. Or I hit rich white folks and they say I'm pissed cuz I'm poor. Or saying I got them muslims cuz I'm angry about 9/11. I just love listening to them trying to figure it all out when there ain't nothing to figure out!

Ain't no big mystery. I'm just getting my ya-ya's out!

Jesus Loves Pussy! (Fear No Art!)

Those who believe Pussy Riot deserve freedom also deserve freedom. Those who believe they deserve prison also deserve prison.

The trial has ended as three members of Pussy Riot await sentencing in Russia's trial of the century. As Nadezhda Tolokonnikova explained in her oh so eloquent closing statement, it's all of Russia on trial here. Will the Mother Country close Her eyes once again to oppression as She has done throughout Her miserable history? Will She continue to take pride in Her shame instead of freeing Herself from it? I quote now Nadezhda's closing words:

Essentially, it is not three singers from Pussy Riot who are on trial here. If that were the case, what’s happening would be totally insignificant. It is the entire state system of the Russian Federation which is on trial and which, unfortunately for itself, thoroughly enjoys quoting its cruelty towards human beings, its indifference to their honor and dignity, the very worst that has happened in Russian history to date. To my deepest regret, this mock trial is close to the standards of the Stalinist troikas. Thus, we have our investigator, lawyer and judge. And then, what’s more, what all three of them do and say and decide is determined by a political demand for repression. Who is to blame for the performance at the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour and for our being put on trial after the concert? The authoritarian political system is to blame. What Pussy Riot does is oppositional art or politics that draws upon the forms art has established. In any event, it is a form of civil action in circumstances where basic human rights, civil and political freedoms are suppressed by the corporate state system.

Pussy Riot's Punk Prayer was performance art taken to its highest level. Some claim the prayer "offended" believers? Believers in what? Certainly not God! Jesus would love a protest such as this, outraging the hypocrites and liars. Let us not forget he too died a criminal and outcast in our eyes. So that does not bode well for the immediate consequences to the girls' act of truth.

In the long run, though, they can only come out on top, with the oppressors tossed into the waste bin of history.

We in America are starved for people who will speak truth to power yet we claim we are a free people. But are we? If the same act were done here would it not cause an even greater firestorm? It's certainly refreshing to see such a glorious act of rebellion taking place. It lifts up the hearts of freedom lovers around the world. And what's most beautiful of all is they are demonstrating the power of art and its ability to reflect who we are. The medical community saves lives. The art community saves life.

Nadezhda Tolokonnikova,a true fighter

A threat to liberty anywhere is a threat to liberty everywhere.

Here's some protest art from Free Pussy Riot's Facebook page:

Some live protest scenes:

No Subtitles version is all I could embed

Mr. Kunt Goes To Washington

"We love you! We believe you! We trust you!"

"Yes, thank you, thank you. I appreciate those kind words and I do not take them lightly! I will not let you down! You people are the salt of the earth. God bless you all!"

"Give 'em hell, Harry!

And with that resounding send off, Mr. Kunt went to Washington. Harry Kunt was a man of the people - no better, no worse. The campaign had been a glorious magical ride for the ages. While the rest of the candidates tried to sell a false front of war, Harry ran only as himself. He was not the "mad dog ranter", he was not tripping over himself to prove what a fraud the other guy was, and never did Harry say anything but what he wanted. It was that last aspect that saved him.

"That clueless fuck will never win."

The entrenched Senator Selout had gained plenty of clout over the years, a shameless apologist for corporations and a broker of back room deals for his own enrichment. His disdain for his constituents mushroomed exponentially as he learned the more evil he did the less they wanted to know. Sure, selling his soul to polluters, money men and scallywags was reported and plain for all to see but a successful whisper campaign brainwashed a willing populace.

"You have to do those things or you'd never get elected!"

But Harry Kunt had no idea he had to beg, borrow or steal. He simply asked, "What about we who vote?" And here he struck at the core of the of Senator Selout's weakness who had absolutely no intention of ever representing his constituents. "Never give a sucker an even break," he was oft quoted. He betrayed voters at every turn, sowing their demise as they cheered him on, the petty king standing tall.

Selout was always the first to get out in front of the latest wave of anger, quick to point the finger at the "true" cause of their woes. Every corrupt politician needs a Jew to blame his sins on. It allows him to speak his mind without fear. "Want to know who your enemy is? It's the government and big corporations! I'm forced to protect polluters, to promote the interests of Big Oil even as it steals billions from our pocketbook every day. And what does the government do but stand in the way of progress! We must put a stop to this!"

Senator Selout was a master of the Big Lie. Only one thing he never counted on: an honest speaking man running for office. Harry refused to play the game, claiming his actual thoughts, giving no defense. With his poll numbers slipping the sitting Senator waged a heavy campaign of bribery. "Remember how powerful I am! Don't you want power? It takes power to save us!" But his specious logic rang hollow against Harry's honest words. Harry got in by a whisker.

"I have to think myself a good man for the good of all."

Like all politicians, Harry believed his being elected to office proof of his goodness. While ex-Senator Selout was back home stirring up hate and anger to ride his way back into office, Senator Kunt was walking in the clouds. A good man at last, he'd learned to talk the talk. In some ways, he wished the race would never end. This joyous journey meant a release of so many nagging doubts and questions he'd had about who and what he was. From now on, no more doubts, no more questions.

"If I'm doing it, then it must be good! I'm the salt of the earth."

His first day in office, the polluters came knocking on his door as they feared an honest speaking man may not protect the toxicity they cherished more than life itself. "We've had a change of heart. We know you're a good man and want to help you in any way we can. Please let us donate to your campaign to further your good works!" The polluters were old pros: say anything but do nothing. Harry Kunt thanked them profusely, praising the polluters on the Senate floor for all to hear.

"Goddamit, that used to be me."

The ex-Senator's hate campaign fell on deaf ears, the people having none of it. "We've elected an honest man to show we are an honest people. Long live Harry Kunt!" Self-loathing heavy as boulders had weighed on them, breaking their backs and hearts. While in office, the ex-Senator had thrown rock upon gleeful rock on them. "Take that! And that! And that! And that!" The more his own self-loathing grew so did his contempt for anyone who'd vote for such a beast. Like all abusers, his fall came thinking it could last forever.

"The witch is dead!"

But Harry and his followers, the "Kunt Licks", were giddy as golden children. A new day had dawned, blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. And these wise voters knew they were pure in heart because they had voted themselves to be! Nothing can stand in the way of this new and godly good feeling. It was enough for many to say, "We are saved." Say anything, do nothing.

"A blameless soul is he, thus a blameless soul are we."

But a man can only serve one master, be it truth or lies. The economy had failed and good Harry Kunt must save it! The polluters very carefully explained that less pollution equals less jobs. The good Harry must compromise! Senator Kunt made an impassioned speech how the perfect cannot be the enemy of the good. "Do not be swayed by the radical food eaters or selfish cancer patients. I'm a pragmatist and a good man. I know of what I speak! There is no other way but to pollute."

"You understand NOTHING about politics!"

Back home the Kunt Licks faced their first fracture. "That Kunt betrayed us! He's supposed to stop the pollution!" But most feared losing the good feeling of believing a good man elected, retorting Harry Kunt must be trusted without fail or the bad witch will return. Hearing these rumblings, the good Kunt knew he must come to the rescue like no other man can!

"I will pass a law like no law ever passed before!"

So began the Great Crusade. Kunt vowed to bring all sides together, being a man above mere right and wrong. "Polluters are people too!" In the end came the Grand Solution: Pollution will be declared no longer to be poisonous, therefore we are safe! To be on the very safe (politically) side, the declaration would not be made until years down the road lest reality interfere beforehand. Can't rush the right thing to do!

"Fix the flaws later!"

Kunt Licks sang with joy at the news of finally an answer to pollution! "It doesn't have to be perfect. But it's a start! A landmark decision!" Although claiming to be anti-pollution the Kunt Licks embraced this Solution In Name Only (SINO). To not support the SINO, they claimed, was to be pro-pollution, pro-witch and anti-reality. Kunt proudly squawked how he had solved a problem where many a man before had failed.

"Changes are coming for the better. Disregard the nonbelievers’ ill will!"

But the pollution itself knew of none of these political victories, cocky claims or especially of its "defeat". It did not know it was no longer poisonous as it spread faster than ever its ruthless cancerous regime. Why stop it? The problem had been solved! Those who fell ill were demonized by the witch's supporters as they sought to protect their poisoned profits. But with the passing of the SINO, the sick were also demonized by the Kunt Licks as they sought to protect their leader.

So who was protecting the people?

Self-betrayal became the new standard bearer of morality. Any man caught believing in himself was deemed traitorous and "out of touch with the times". Energy needed to clean up the pollution was instead diverted to "making everyone feel good" about their betrayal. That is how they would win! Reason was shunted aside in the name of being reasonable. But despite all the victories in debates, all the SINO laws passed in vain, or time spent enforcing "correct behavior", everything they tried to save was lost for the ages.

Say anything, do nothing.

Trishna: The Dangerous Game Of Life (Chick Flick Review)

Few things in life I fear more than a "chick flick". The idea of being trapped in a theater with endless variations of "The Notebook" is a unique form of emotional manipulation torture that would crack even the hardest Navy Seal into submission. So before I come up against any sort of lethal beast as this I very carefully vet the situation. It paid off handsomely at last year's Asian film festival with "Love In A Puff", a delightful, charming film I deeply enjoyed.

For this year's annual running with the chicks I chose Trishna. I was a bit lazy vetting Trishna but nonetheless showed up at the theater feeling fairly confident. After the first several minutes I felt safe with its honesty and I was patting myself on the back. Then came the horror of horrors: I was watching a Bollywood film!

India's Bollywood for the uninitiated is chick flicks on steroids, plenty of singing and dancing, so-called romance and a deep reverence for societal structure. Seen one, you've seen 'em all. And I've seen one (full blown musical). I gripped my seat in terror like a helpless heroine tied to the train tracks - and I just heard the train whistle blow. Luckily, my fears were unfounded - for the most part.

Trishna is from a small village where she stumbles across some big city boys sightseeing. It's interesting to note the male lead was Indian but apparently grew up in London, never bothering to learn Hindi. I figured out why he was given this background: this Bollywood film breaks all the rules.

Bollywood is three hours of this interrupted by talking

The plotline of the full blown Bollywood movie I saw was of two young lovers ripped apart by an arranged marriage by their parents. They vow (in freaking song) to reunite against all odds but in the end the heroine comes to believe her arranged husband is the man for her after all. Basically a propaganda film for traditional Indian mores and parental obsequience. Disgusting. But Trishna blows those values out of the water - or so I thought at first.

Forced by her father's sudden injury to seek income, Trishna takes a job at a large resort hotel at the behest of the London raised boy whose father owns the hotel. Not only is Trishna moving physically, but spiritually as she begins to explore her own life and own wishes. "Alright!" I mentally applauded. "You go girl!"

London Boy takes her virginity in a romantic night but it's too much for Trishna as she flees back home. There she discovers she's pregnant and is forced to have an abortion by her father. Then she's sent to her uncle's tea farm for virtual enslavement in manual labor. Back to zero all over again. But London Boy can't get her out of his mind, finds her and asks her to come with him to Bombay after telling his father the hotel business is not for him.

"Will you do it? Will you come with me?"

She's on a five minute break from her job. You hear the factory in the background. "Yes. Yes, I will! I'll come right now."

"Don't you need to say something to them inside?"

"No, they wouldn't let me go then."

Oh, I'm loving this now! Independent lady after my own heart. By following her own desires, by making a commitment to her life, Trishna blossoms in Bombay. London Boy hangs around with an artsy, filmmaking crowd complete with dancers and directors. They are funny and liberal and full of life. With her flame of life blazing, Trishna is a natural fit with her own lively dancing as she's even invited to become a professional. (I have to admit her dancing was intoxicating, what little we got to see).

But life is never this easy, is it? Even with her commendable behavior, Trishna has yet to take the final step of committing herself to her life. London Boy's father has a stroke, he must return to take over the hotel. Trishna does not have the strength to say no to returning to the suffocating hotel life. She keeps her dream of becoming a professional dancer a secret as London Boy would disapprove. It all goes downhill from there.

London Boy is miserable running the hotel. Trishna has to pretend to be a mere employee because living together is something they could get away with in the city but not in the rural setting of the resort. She delivers his lunch to him each day where he ravishes her. But over time, it gets uglier and uglier. He humiliates her, both formally and sexually, taking out all his boredom and misery on her. In the end, their sex brings her to tears, borderline rape (due no doubt to London Boy's foreign upbringing).

And here's where the film and I part ways. We both agree she must free herself. But running back to Bombay to stay with her friends and make the final step to being her own person does not seem an option. No, the only way out is to take a large butcher knife from the kitchen, stab London Boy to death and flee back home as the obvious culprit. After a few fruitless days she realizes her life is over and actually commits seppuku with the same knife she killed London Boy. Ouch!

So in the end we still get the same Bollywood cautionary tale that following your own bliss is dangerous and deadly! Had they given this film an honest ending it would have been outstanding, displaying the trials and tribulations of finding oneself but also showing the rewards. People were muttering on the way out. "I expected something lighter." It's still a great film to see, though, to observe the various cross sections of Indian life from poverty to luxury.

In the end I just have a few words of advice. Dear India: Follow your own bliss. You're almost there!

Worst Part Of Being An International Assassin

It's not like I don't have doubts, I do. I never let them show and no one's called my bluff yet but that doesn't change the fact I have to live with them. Passing through airports and hotel restaurants are the times when the doubt rises up to bite me the most. I relax, look around and smell the roses that are not mine. I look at the couples and families around me and ask, "What if?"

What if I were in a relationship, would I still be an assassin? Would the needs that drive me here disappear, enabling a path to me that's now denied? What if I'm not who I think I am? Thing is, I can go by no one's thinking but my own. I shared myself once - and it was as wonderful as the stars - but I could not confess my assassinating ways in the end. Now the person I most want to be with the most least wants to be with me. I don't want to be with me either...

If I were on trial judged by limited human minds I'd always be convicted. They have no idea of their skewed thinking and false moralities. To their simple minds, everyone must fit in the same box, end of story. Of course, it's just another trick to avoid self-examination but when one has no true morality false morality must suffice. But I have no choice but to face myself and I cannot live in your 9-5 concentration camp.

I have to admit on one hand it's exhilarating living outside the system and societal norms. That's what feeds me and keeps me playing the "What if?" game as I stare through the impenetrable glass wall that separates me from paradise. I especially remember that moment in that Dallas hotel, peering down at rush hour traffic snaking its way through backstreets, lives rules by stop lights and wasted time. Thank God I'm not part of that river of death! Just because your willful self ignorance prevents you from realizing what you do does not give you the right to mandate my death.

Sitting in the resort sun listening to high-powered CEO's gloat on their expense paid seminars is like eavesdropping on a KKK meeting: they open up when believing they are surrounded by like minds. Most are in their position more from ambition than ability. It's the fact they are so undeserving of the lifestyle they lead they cherish the most. It's their own private god and the underlying giddiness at having fooled the world has them feeling as men of special worth. One day, they will be the last in line.

When I'm around such people I don't feel so bad. They are leeches living off the honest efforts of the builders and innovators of the world. Were such artificial souls left to fend for themselves they'd live in dire, helpless squalor. Maybe that's why they despise and disdain those who exist in squalor the most. I only wish I could walk over to them with some sort of mirror so they could see themselves as I see them. But how can an assassin lecture anyone?

Inferiority has driven my entire life

Yes, for the most part I walk around with a sense of inferiority. I don't think anything of my intelligence. That's merely a trait, like having brown eyes. A home can be a prison but having no place to rest is also a prison. I try not to get too down on myself when I see the families interacting at the airport lounges. In simple honest moments of a mother tending her child I'm struck by the vast wasteland that is my life. I look at all those who are a part of things and I feel I am the lowest of the low.

It's just the way I'm wired, killing people doesn't bother me. I only feel good when I'm doing bad. Killing relationships, however, haunts me a lifetime. Is that what "Thou shall not kill" truly means? There has to be a way out I'm not seeing. To give up my career is to die. To give up relationships is to die. How can I ever combine the two? Are feelings alone really enough? How can I bring my lawless ways into the life of she I respect the most? I crumble in the guilt and shame.

Goupil: International Hit Man. Who gives a flying fuck?

To provide hope for my cold discomfort farm, I solaced myself with the idea of the moral superiority of my fellow earthly inhabitants. I need only join the non-killer elite to find refuge and redemption. You are the ones pursuing your lives. I am the one pursuing death. I can look to you for guidance and knowledge of life. Even if I never take advantage of it, just knowing that was out there when lighting my nightly lonely fire provided my one hope. I, the great Goupil, sit at your feet.

But, oh, what a shot to the head to find your souls to be just as lost as mine! Like a man who had bet his life on the sun rising in the west, the veil slowly lifted as I watched in stupefied horror the sun rising in the east. My supposed world turned upside down. "It can't be! It can't be! It's only the moral who have families!" But they send their children off to war, to coldly kill just like I do! No no no! Not everyone can be a killer! Where's the hope in that?

Have you see the returning American soldier? He walks with a furrowed brow and confused eyes praised by his braying parents. In Mexico (where I refuse jobs because I trust NONE of those fuckers), the Americans fund drug wars killing 100,000 while terrorizing an entire nation. Hundreds of thousands of child soldiers are drugged and used as cannon fodder around the world. Slave parents beat the life out of children until they too accept slavery. Why create a family only to destroy it?

Oh, shit. I cannot rely on you for survival. Like a CEO, I'm a leach upon the moral too. I wanted a free ride while the "responsible majority" keep us alive. But there is no responsible majority! This has taken all the joy out of my work. I must look to myself to be the responsible one. Fuck! This awakening has been by far the worst, most earth shattering part of my god forsaken life. Everyone's a goddam killer just like I am!