Monday, December 19, 2005

In the Land of The Stupids

Shakespeare said something along the lines that, “There is a destiny that shapes our ends.” I can’t argue with that. History shows me that both people and nations can fail in spectacular fashion; the only drawback to that is that it often takes longer than we wish it to. Most of us hope that blackguard nations and individuals would go direct to the compost heap without the necessity of the agonizing, protracted drama of lives injured in the process.

Were the American people always this stupid? Is it a generational thing; do certain generations back up over a metaphorical La Guardia of reincarnation and chomp at the bit for their chance to perform before the world? I often wonder if there might not be a conveyor belt that moves through dimensional space, sorting and labeling characters for their moment to “strut and fret their hour upon the stage.” I wonder about a lot of things because I don’t get the payoff. I have yet to see where being exposed as an idiot and a liar is a good career move; but wait a minute... it seems like it is.

Enormous power and influence is casually invested in people who would have a hard time managing a Dairy Queen, much less a nation. Media figures, lacking both truth and the eloquence necessary to convincingly read a grocery list are paid huge sums of money and honored as fonts of wisdom. Something is wrong with this picture. When you investigate the thing it appears that all of this exists because the audience is just, just... really, really stupid; have they always been this stupid? and on... off and on; this brings me back to the ambulatory cordwood stacked up over metaphorical La Guardia.

It’s funny how the environment will mirror the personnel passing through it. The soundtrack compliments it. The leaders reflect the led. The quality of the air and water mirrors the intellectual and emotional pollutions of those ingesting it. Stupid people lead stupid lives and everything mirrors their passage through a stupid world to a stupid end. Things that make no natural or mathematical sense make sense there. Lies become the fabric of life. Commercials for things that kill have the impact on a stupid mind of things that give life.

Everything in the land of stupid makes a stupid kind of sense. Going backwards looks like going forwards. Painful things appear to be necessary things even when the pain is a reminder of the results of practicing stupid things. The stupider and more unreasonable everything becomes in reality, the more reality is adjusted in perception to make stupid look smart. It becomes okay to live and eat and breathe stupid. Fat is the new thin. Stupid is the new smart. Leaders who lack only the red neck kerchief of the Khmer Rouge appear positively Jeffersonian. Everything adapts and adjusts to explain everything in terms of stupid.

Lies are not lies; they are adjusted truths that have been explained in terms of stupid. The mindless violence for gain is seen to be a cost effective investment for the general good. Pointless sacrifice of the many for the benefit of the few is, in the stupid perspective, a pervasive boon for the greatest good of the greatest number of people.

Student loans are cut; possibly because the education received no longer has the same value of educations formerly received… but more likely because tiny savings are needed to offset massive expenditures upon stupid policies that have a greater value than that of an educated population. Tiny savings cannot offset massive expenditures. Oh yes they can. They make perfect fiscal sense in the land of The Stupids.

Cutting Medicare and food stamps and social services and all manner of benefits that would seem to be hallmarks of a successful society are proven to be wise and compassionate in the land of the stupids. Those who cannot spend the interest on their gains are given additional gains and those with little or nothing are bent over a barrel and a nation of stupids applauds as they are bent over the barrel.

Political leaders, not content with their personal return on their positions must resort to fraud and theft to further enhance their holdings and this is defined as savvy and perfectly legal in the land of the stupids. The foreign policy of the nation is run from a small country in the Middle East that is the source of the majority of the trouble in that location and this is defined as legal and permissible in the land of the stupids. The leader of this small country tells a former leader of this small country that they don’t have to worry about anything that happens in the land of the stupids because they control this country. The hard physical evidence of this exchange is documented and reported in the news and easily obtained but... it didn’t actually get said and nobody heard it exactly as it was said exactly because... because... they are stupid? So called terrorists that were reputed to have attacked the stupid nation are witnessed aboard gambling boats owned by a lobbyist who supports the government entrusted with the protection of the nation and this is seen as perfectly okay in a nation of stupids.

Massive buildings collapse in free fall and in defiance of physics as the result of a fire caused by the impact of a plane (hijacked by some terrorists of which nearly half were found to be living somewhere else after they died) into a building designed to withstand the impact of the plane where no buildings of similar type and even buildings less securely constructed have ever collapsed before; even when the fires raged for hours and hours longer. This is easily explained in the land of the stupids. The owner of a building not hit by anything is recorded as saying they would bring down the building and immediately the building that wasn’t hit by anything comes down. This owner had weeks before acquired billions of dollars worth of terror insurance and so on and so on but, it didn’t actually happen in the land of the stupids even though it did happen and it didn’t really mean anything.

Hurricanes wipe out an entire city and towns and villages and coastlines all about and nothing was done to provide for the victims during the storm or in the aftermath... slowly, like shit flowing uphill in January assistance now bleeds through the filters of contractors connected to the government that didn’t do anything and, wait a minute... Shit flows like Karo syrup uphill in January all the time in the land of the stupids.

Lies become truth; hindrance becomes help, theft becomes charity, treachery is patriotism and everything is everything that you want it to be when you need it to be whatever you want it to be in the land of the stupids. I read a book somewhere, a novel, that documented all of this and it didn’t sound like a very nice place; containing as it did rat facemasks and nothing being what it seemed but it turns out it is a very nice place indeed in the land of the stupids. In the land of the stupids the man with no brain is king. In the land of the stupids, stupid behavior, suicidal behavior and any kind of behavior that assaults the host body engaged in stupid behavior is considered virtuous and smart behavior because of the high concentration of stupidity that it contains.

In the land of the stupids when you eat your own young you are actually being fruitful and multiplying. In the land of the stupids a country that stood in opposition to Stalinist policies can be applying textbook Stalinist policies taken from the Stalinist textbooks and the critics can be called Stalinists. In the land of the stupids the mouthpieces of the stupids can screech like crows and abuse like alcoholic parents and are pronounced to be fair, reasonable and eloquent voices bravely raised above the screeching of crows.

In the land of the stupids two and two does not make four. In the land of the stupids you can look right at something and not see it. In the land of the stupids something can be made simply and perfectly clear and immediately become complex and perfectly unclear. In the land of the stupids it is clear that you can be never be too stupid or too stupid.

“Although it won’t apply in the land of the stupids it is a truth that if something becomes scarce in one location it will concentrate in another”... he said; shaking the very dust of that city from his sandals.

Visible sings: 911 was an Inside Job by Les Visible♫ Have I Got This Right? Talking 9/11 Blues ♫
'Have I Got This Right?' is track no. 2 of 10 on Visible's 2002 album
'911 was an Inside Job'

Lyrics (pops up)

911 was an Inside Job by Les Visible

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Tookie Williams Goes Free...

Tookie Williams left the California prison system a few hours ago. He must be feeling pretty good right about now. It may be that he suspected it all along; that he knows what I and some few others know… That death ends nothing. I am sure he now knows that everything really is backwards; that the body was a coffin, that you wake up when you die, that it is 'more real' in the after life and that it is 'less real' here.

He went out with a calm dignity that further convinces me that he didn't do the murders that he was charged with and that the state set him up. In consideration of the personalities of his accusers and their subsequent careers I smell more than one rat. The tale of the shotgun under the bed at the home of James and Ester Garrett, who were being investigated for the murder of their crime partner…well that charge was dropped. And the shotgun shells came from a store that Garrett had robbed the year before. But I won't bore you with all the inconsistencies, not when you got Fox News and all the other big gang media to help you form an opinion

It sure would have been nice if they had had any real evidence except that of people under heavy threat from the po-lice; if they had had just one civilian witness, one fingerprint, one anything. It does make you wonder how, in four brutal murders there was no evidence except for LA Confidential style testimony. Here you have a young man doing an urban Badlands all over the place and nada… just nada. A reason would have been nice. Gain certainly wasn't a reason. It would make you wonder, if you had a brain. You might even feel something if you had a heart. If you had any sense of mystery and awe you would surely nod and thank your lucky stars that you weren't Tookie on the streets of LA

Only a fool believes that a man of Tookie's criminal stature and standing would just, apparently for recreational purposes and small gain, go out on a murder spree (the way many of you, unable to engage in a rigorous demands of bowling- or to actually fit on the lanes- might spend an evening getting in and out of your cart at a miniature golf course for whites only.)

It makes all the sense in the world that he was railroaded off of the streets.

I recognize that, according to the cattle grazing across the land of the free, Tookie was a wolf. I won't bore you with talk about environments and economics. I won't go into the initial reason that the Crips came into being. Do I have to mention the date that Tookie got sent down or how many Crip members there were? Have any of you bothered to match dates with timelines? Do you think Tookie managed International Crips Assoc. from inside?

The Republican Party is a gang. How many people have they killed? Bush's press mouth says they killed 30,000 Iraqi's with the help of another gang, The Dems. They were careful to note that these weren't 'official' figures but taken from official media sources. Are you that goddamn stupid? Why wouldn't the government have the figures? Why would the government need the media for figures? The reason is that they killed well over 100,000 Iraqi's, that's why, and you don't care and you don't question; you don't connect the dots and the hand never leaves the sleeve.

Back around so many hundreds of years ago, after the fall of another decadent hog wallow of a society, that had had a moment or two of grandeur before it fell, there were a lot of gangs running around; the Huns, the Teuts, the AngloS, the Goths, the Vandals… so many… Honorious went butt-up and Stilicho went down and the gangs went to town. Where did we get whatever came after all of that; the cities on the Danube and wherever human rats congregate in search of sex and wealth and power? We got it from the gangs. Civilization always comes out of disorder.

Gangs have roamed America since America got here. Gangs in uniforms wiped out the Indians. Nobody went to jail for that. Gangs brought black men in chains from Africa. Nobody went to jail for that. Gang bosses machine-gunned miners and burned their children in their tents. Gangs have always been here. Don't talk to me about how Tookie formed a gang and then the gang killed thousands and thousands of people and how he wouldn't get down on his knees and suck the great state of California's dick and say, "Massa, massa dis po nigga did rong." Fuck the great state of California and Arnolt too, for that matter. If he didn't kill those people he doesn't need to say so. He doesn't need to keep repentin' and 'pologizin and bowing and scrapin and "Load! Load! plezz doan let me die hea in dis col col jail. I'ze be a goooood nigga now."

The Pubs and the Dems are the big gangs in town and they don't brook no competition. The competition goes to jail. When people run foul of Mac Daddy Bush's drug cartel, they go to jail. Shit happens to the poppy and war happens cause of Poppy. Don't talk to me about gangs. Once gangs have been around long enough they get that fancy logo, they get the traditions the red leather chairs with the gold rivets, the limos and the ladies and the young boys… they get the fancy hand signs. What's the difference between the Mason's and the 18th St. Boyz? The amount of power. Both of them got the hand signs. Don't talk to me about gangs.

Bilderberger is a gang. The Council on Foreign Relations is a gang. The Royal Society to Tongue the Ass of the Queen is a gang; no not Elton, Lizabeth. United Fruit is a gang. The longer a gang has been around, and depending on whether it was successful at surviving, the stronger and the richer and the more respectable that gang got. Eventually that gang gets laws and po-lice and gets to put upstart gang leaders to death.

Tookie went out cool. Tookie was amused that the old gang techs couldn't find a vein. Tookie got 12 minutes more of 'this' life. Well, he'd hung around in The Man's leeeeeegitimate prison for plenty years, he could spare a few more minutes. Maybe he knew that he was just going through a door the others couldn't see. Everybody goes through that door… living or dead or whatever you want to call it. Tookie walked right out. Yellow-back George won't walk out like that. Sneerin' Dick'em Cheney won't walk out like that. Don't talk to me about gangs. I know where gangs come from and I know why. I know about order upon disorder and I know who it serves 'here' and who it serves 'there'. Hey, Jean Lafitte was a pirate. I guess he had a gang too.

The big gangs got lots of small gangs that do the things the big gangs can't do. Right now little gangs are shooting the shit out of people in the Middle East, planting car bombs, pulling fingernails and rapin' and pillagin' as gangs are known to do; "rape and pillage, rape and pillage, let's go out and burn a native village, you can't have one, you can't have one, you can't have one without the ottthhhhhhher." And all of this because a big gang engineered an assault; a PNAC new Pearl Harbor manifestation of a new manifesto, on a couple of big buildings in New York City. Shit! Larry Silverman hardly had time to say "get me some terror insurance" (before the fact) before his building went down out of plain fear… or wait a minute, they've got him on tape saying "We're gonna bring it down." Don't talk to me about gangs.

I want to take a moment here to thank Tookie Williams for his outstanding work while he was here and to congratulate him on escaping from the big gang's jail house. I'll close with a memory I have of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Arnie owned some stock in Planet Hollywood and it so happened I was at the Lahaina P.H one night when Arnie was in town and it so happened that I was sitting there when Arnie went by my table surrounded by a bunch of big guys in suits. My initial impression, which remains with me, is the fear on Arnie's face. The other impression was that he was a lot smaller than I thought he would be. He was smaller than me, probably wider (grin) but smaller. He looked like a little guy and he looked scared even though he was surrounded by leeeeeegitimate gang protective guys. I turned to my friend and said, "So that's what you get for success?" My friend said, "I wouldn't want to be him." "Me neither" I replied.

In memoriam of Stanley Tookie Williams for his outstanding tale of redemption and all of his efforts for the betterment of the human race; for his courage in not getting down on his knees for the big gang leaders and for standing tall and with humble dignity in the face of false charges and for the creation of a tabla rasa in the ethers as a path laid out to be walked later on for anyone who later on goes astray. Go with God.

Visible sings: God in Country by Les Visible♫ Every Day ♫
'Every Day' is track no. 11 of 11 on Visible's 2001 album 'God in Country'
Lyrics (pops up)

God in Country by Les Visible

Friday, December 9, 2005

Quo Vadis, Tookie Williams?

All through the course of American history political leaders have made decisions based on factors other than vox populi. Presently, the only vox populi getting any kind of a hearing is vox Midas. Many a leader has swept into office on promises and many a promise has died on the vine for want of water. One can’t know what the message of vox populi is any more because that message is fashioned by vox media without any actual reference to vox populi. In any rare instance where vox populi is resourced, the words are imbedded beforehand and then shaped to fit in the way the questions are fashioned. Anyone unaware of this is watching too much vox news.

Stanley ‘Tookie’ Williams stands accused of shot-gunning a convenience store clerk for the princely sum of $120.00 and then a series of 3 Asian motel owners for a grand total of $100.00. Tookie was at the same time one of the founders, along with Raymond Washington and (according to vox media) head of The Crips; a blue headscarf wearing gang who was the counterpoint to The Bloods; a red headscarf wearing gang. The Crips were formed to combat random neighborhood violence. So far as I know, shot-gunning convenience store workers and motel owners wasn’t in the charter.

The question you have to ask yourself is, “Would the head of what came to be the largest, most organized gang in the United States really go out and small time murder for chump change?” It doesn’t make sense does it? Tookie says he didn’t do it and I believe him. I believe him because my common sense tells me it’s just completely out of character for his role. Tookie isn’t a stupid man; anything but. Does this make any kind of sense? Can you say LA Confidential? I thought you could.

Was Tookie Williams a bad man? According to our imaginary yardstick, which has Charles Manson at one end and a Bambi-faced soccer mom at the other, the answer would have to be yes. Would it be fair to say that, using your logic and objective reasoning capacity; Tookie was probably responsible for murder and mayhem along his way to San Quentin? I’d have to say, “No doubt” If you asked me if he was responsible for the murders he is accused of I would have to say, “It’s unlikely.” If you asked me, "Did the LA police department set him up based on the rational that he’s guilty of it somewhere?" I would have to say; “That seems the most likely scenario.”

Our prison system was developed by Benjamin Franklin and The Quakers. The idea was to put a man in a cell with a Bible and hope that repentance and rehabilitation would be the result. Essentially this means that the idea of redemption is a basic ingredient in the process of incarceration. What is the point of parole I might ask? What is justice?

Murder is against the law right? Well Dick Cheney and George Bush and their band of neo-cons have murdered tens of thousands of people recently but they are not in jail. Why are they not in jail? We know that they murdered tens of thousands of people under false pretenses and as the result of known lies. We know this. How are they any different that Tookie Williams? They are much worse. We know that numerous business associates and political cronies of Bush and Cheney have been indicted for massive theft and fraud. How is this behavior any different than that of any gang members; they didn’t use a shot-gun? Okay.

While he has been in prison these past 20 odd years Tookie has been doing a lot of work. Tookie has worked to reform himself and the gang system he helped to bring into being. He has been nominated several times for the Nobel Peace prize. I will not here list his many accomplishments. These are things you can ‘choose’ to learn for yourself. Tookie came up on the rough streets of LA. God only knows what he went through as a kid. I’m not surprised at what happened to him. George Bush and Dick Cheney were given the finest of educations and pampered every step of their lives. They wound up murdering many thousands of times more than Tookie Williams. This is a fact and there is no getting around it. Of course you can attempt to justify it. Would you say that Bush and Cheney have since woven something as great out of their disordered past as has Tookie Williams? No you could not say this.

I’ve been to prison. I knew men like Tookie Williams. I’ve got a blue bandanna I still wear today. It doesn’t make me a Crip, even if one gave it to me. I know something about gangs and the men in them. I know how these gangs come about and the circumstances that give birth to them. Are gangs a good thing? No. Not on the streets of LA and not in the corridor of power in Washington D.C. The only difference in these two gangs is the size of the take.

A man’s life is not the sum of a few moments. The sum of a life is in the totality of the life. It is in what the life comes to. Tookie Williams is an odyssey of redemption. One might say he, “once was lost but now is found.” George Bush will never accomplish as much good as Tookie Williams.

Will Tookie get the chance to go on with his compelling efforts? It doesn’t look good. It doesn’t look good in a country where another governor once mocked an inmate on her way to execution. That governor was George Bush. He laughed and made fun of her on her way to die. Her name was Karla Faye Tucker and her story is a lot like Tookie’s. She made a big mistake when she was young and she spent the next fourteen years on death row repenting and seeking redemption. She went off to die with the governor’s laughter ringing in her ears.

We all die. It has been said that we do not all die but that we are all changed. I won’t address the varieties of meaning there. I will submit that Tookie has already died and been reborn but I suspect that means nothing to those who do not understand the meaning of, “there but for fortune go you and I.” The only difference between Tookie and you and I is that Tookie knows the date. As Samuel Johnson said "Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully."

The issue here is not what Tookie did or did not do once; it is what he has done since. Either redemption is a part of our system or it is not. Special circumstance should be a two way street. Sometimes the example of a person’s life begins to live in many lives. They stand for possibilities. They remind us of the possible. Killing Tookie Williams does not kill the man accused of particular crimes. It kills the man he has become. We effectively kill the example of hope and transformation that he presently stands for.

What sort of a terrible irony is it that permits the wholesale murders of men like George Bush and Dick Cheney? These swine in human form laugh at their deeds and their victims while dining in the high tower. Their crimes against their own nation and other nations exceed the crimes of Tookie Williams to an immeasurable degree.

When and if Tookie dies he will have paid his bills. He will have done something wonderful with his life; made all the more wonderful given his background and his circumstances. When George Bush and Dick Cheney die, hard laughter will accompany and greet them and God have mercy on their souls.

Vox populi... who knows? Yet in our history many a leader has made many a decision that did not reflect vox populi. Many a leader has made a decision of conscience. Many a leader has acted upon advice and acted against advice. Sometimes a leader finds the unspoken hope in a vox populi that does not know the sound of it’s own voice until someone speaks for them. The job of a leader is not to follow it is to lead. How often have we not known what we felt until it touched our hearts? Hopefully something touches Governor Schwarzenegger’s heart.

Visible sings: 911 was an Inside Job by Les Visible♫ The Mocking of Karla Faye Tucker ♫
'The Mocking of Karla Faye Tucker' is track no. 3 of 10 on Visible's 2002 album
'911 was an Inside Job'

About this song (pops up)

911 was an Inside Job by Les Visible

Tuesday, December 6, 2005

Stand on Zanzibar meets Childhood's End

My days are long and I’m free range. Only so much happens inside the coop. In the coop time presses down on the captive flock, making them wider and, I suppose, juicier for the palate of other coop dwellers higher on the food chain. But all coops have some things in common and their share of pecking deaths. The more they press together, the tighter the insanity and the more combustive the explosions against the resistance of the mass.

In rat experiments, when rats are confined in a small space, the larger male rats will lose all interest in the females and begin to rape the younger males. Life-forms in captivity exhibit common pathologies that are mirrored in prison life and congested cities. Weird tics become commonplace and people talk to themselves. If you can’t go out and you get pushed in, alcohol and sundry open a larger landscape by altering the headroom of the earphones. Of course this is just a way of giving a different separation to the sound. It’s an appearance; an impression. It isn’t real. It gets less real as different unrealities are compared.

When insanity becomes the norm interesting rules of behavior emerge. Coping devices come into play to order irrational behavior along predictable lines. The cops can’t pull you over in your living room. If you need to color your world because of the chiaroscuro effect, that’s understandable. If it’s illegal but ubiquitous, then further adjustments are made to demarcate when and how you allow the unallowable. If the pressure to kill for space becomes too great it makes sense to do the killing somewhere else. The resulting pressure decrease is then felt at a distance from the blood-spattered walls of the proxy killing fields.

Pipelines of hatred and love are no different than oil and gas pipelines. Breathing allowances have to be made and the technology is formed to compensate for the vagaries of the product. The sex pipeline is the big one. The boiler room is impressive and the dials remind one of the cockpit of a 747. As the natural flow of the sex oil is routed through increasingly complex ways the interpretation of the following behaviors becomes equally complex. New rationalizations are required for things that people do; things that were once considered strange, even pathological, have to be discussed and described and made reasonable. Somewhere between Jerry Springer and the soccer-mom Wicca-weekends lies the holiday table set with the bounty of the land.

As the rules become increasingly complex the reactions from the overview multiply. The message on the t-shirt has to pass through filters. The conversation has to ride on rails. The eye contact must steady at neutral or go to pre-fab. While the controls on the personal tighten, the controls on the broadcasts become more lax. You can’t say what you hear. You can’t behave as you observe. Television is one thing, real life is another. So… the objective mind becomes a camouflaged, hunted beast and the subjective mind becomes a deranged wolverine.

Everything gets mirrored so, if you can’t see it, you’re not watching. Well, it’s not surprising when your entire makeup becomes defensive that you would lose objectivity; and then there’s all the makeup too. And you are told that what you see is not what you see. You are told what you hear is not what you hear and what you think is not what you think. You are even told you are not you. The outsider is way outside. As the press for individuality meets the resistance of enforced conformity, terrorism comes after the pipelines of human expression. It’s not terrorism actually; it’s the self looking for a way out. The individual route is perilous indeed. So group individuality takes over. Individual groups now compete where individuals once did. The pack mentality rises. Scientology Black is playing Raelian Red on ESP this Sunday. The tattooed biker moms merge with the pierced death rockers in detailed legal documents filed in the courts. A new lobby is born and the power of collected masses against collected masses wearing team colors fills the stands. A strange glossolalia of the new Pentecost is forming a holographic Jesus in the air above the high tension lines. This Jesus wears shades. This Jesus pimp dances with the Whore of Babylon. When you’re drowning in the ocean inside yourself and you don’t want to die you’ve got to split in two to find a helping hand and maybe split again. Not everybody likes everybody here. Somebody has to die.

As each new weird replaces the old, an army of therapists sort out the minutiae and new allowances are made. The bottom line in every transition is the adaptation of market forces to how the cereal box is going to be designed; Brother Love’s anal lube for the backdoor kundalini facing in. As the lost is more lost the private intensity must mirror your face alone. Everything else is too strange and so the image must increasingly be the solitary intensity of your face upon itself.

In strange tropical landscapes. market forces have determined that regulated bacchanalias are pipelining requirements to off-set the cubicle pressure and the polyester rash. Mad power presses against mad power presses have dictated the need for whips and chains and the ugly definitions of your bad self at the hands of Domination Mom. As the instantaneous appearance of products on the shelf meets the transforming puberty of the generational edge the mall becomes the paper route and the baby-sitting gig as the currency of flesh is exchanged for the currency of product and youth is recaptured by old men with money. It’s okay but it’s against the law. It’s really okay if your selective group mass has merged with the enforcement-end group mass. No matter what, examples have to be made, just for the salacity of the headlines and market forces. Sooner or later, Stand on Zanzibar meets Childhood’s End.

And what is all of this? How important is this moment and its strange apparel? It’s a belch at one end and a fart at the other. It’s just a temporary digestive condition brought about by a wide diet and stress at work. The six pack didn’t help but a good nights sleep will; pretty colorful dreams though, not that you can remember them now. The system is self-regulating. It wants to come back to the center. Of course, the constant repetition of behavior is where chronic got its name… but even that gets regulated. Everything gets regulated. Little systems get big attitudes. It probably comes about because the little system thinks it’s a big system. It’s like the kid in 3rd grade who insisted he was Superman. And as long as he didn’t try to fly from the top of the house it would probably pass. Some times it doesn’t and Superman has to get clever when he grows up.

Looking into the wheels in the watch can be a fascinating exercise. Nobody sane wants to be a cog and yet they never make the association between what they see and where they are. It’s as if they don’t think they are really there even though they discuss the details of the process more than anything else with everyone else. Minniver Cheevy dances with Paris Hilton in The Overlook Hotel ballroom. You would have to be drunk wouldn’t you?

Ah well, there’s nothing wrong with longing to escape. The problem is more a matter of how and where. In the meantime, one machine stamps out the goods and, at the other end, the same machine reduces the product back to the original elements and then feeds it on to a conveyer belt that loops back to the beginning. The soundtrack changes along with the lights until there’s nothing but the whirring of the projector in a dark room somewhere in LA as The Son of Group Therapy meets It Came from Beneath the Sea of Recovery.

Visible and The Critical List: La Vierge Sperme Danceur by Les Visible and The Critical List♫ The Clicking Mandibles ♫
'The Clicking Mandibles' is track no. 4 of 8 on Visible and The Critical List's 1987 album
'La Vierge Sperme Danceur'

About this song (pops up)

La Vierge Sperme Danceur by Les Visible and The Critical List

Saturday, December 3, 2005

It's all about the MONEY!!!

Money!!! It’s the big one. It’s bigger than God. It’s bigger than God in the minds and the lives of God’s biggest front men; people like Ralph Reed and Pat ‘hitman’ Robertson. If money and the power it grants has a greater attraction that the source of all power in the minds of those who- we’re told- work for the source of all power; how much greater must the effect of money be on the rest of us who aren’t washed in the blood? It’s got to be narcotic.

So you have probably asked yourself, if you are one of the 10% of the world with a still functioning objective reasoning capacity; how come hardly anyone in Congress (both houses), in the ‘leeeeeegitimate media’ and… in the religious sector has had anything to say about the colossal graft and avalanche of lies that are the hallmark of this criminal administration? It’s a good question isn’t it? How come nary a congressman or a senator has taken to the bully pulpit to rouse the populace?

One possibility is that, perhaps, some few have but the spotlight of attention is not focused upon their efforts. But you know and I know that anyone with enough Crusader Rabbit in them can make the waves if they want to; can go to the barricades, can stand on a street corner, can grab airtime by sheer force of passion and conviction. It can be done. It isn’t being done.

Jack Abramoff and his sleazy, faux-Godfather persona gives us a schematic for the whole enchilada; if we are willing to see it. Word has it, in the actually ‘leeeeeegitimate media’ world of the bloggers, that up to 60 members of Congress are to some degree implicated in the Abramoff scandal. That’s 60, as in 6 with a 0 after it. That’s a lot of legislators. That’s enough legislators to overstuff a Greyhound bus.

It’s simple math and I’m hoping you are up to it because I am going to throw some logic in too and it might require you to chew gum and pay attention at the same time. I promise if you try to understand that I will do my best at my end. Okay… how do you get into Congress? You get into Congress by attracting people’s attention and getting them to vote for you. How do you attract their attention? You have to advertise. How do you advertise? You give someone money to film commercials; print posters and bumper stickers, place ads on radio and television, laminate billboards and all of what you know they have to do. You have to hire people to do many, many things. Doors have to be knocked on, phones have to be worked; get the picture? And if the other guy has more MONEY than you then he can get the message out more comprehensively. Does this make sense mathematically and logically? I believe it does.

How do you get this MONEY that you need? Traditionally people send you donations. Of course that’s not going to be enough. You need MONEY from PAC’s and corporations. Do all of these sources expect a return on their investment? You bet they do. What does this mean? This means you are there to serve their interests or… you won’t be there. The other guy will get the MONEY and you will lose.

What if, and it does happen- if only rarely- you’re not in it for the MONEY? Well then… young boys and girls might begin to appear; that accounts for a percentage. You attend a fund-raiser and coincidentally your picture is taken with an organized crime figure. You attend an affair that turns out to be something else entirely but… you ‘were’ there. Deeply funded private detective agencies scour your background and, if they can’t find anything, well, they just make it up. It’s a Photoshop world baby. But let’s face it… anyone who wants to become a politician has got something wrong with him/her anyway…usually. There’s no difference between the religious snake oil salesman and the politicians. It’s the same grease and the same hair.

So when you see it’s quiet...too quiet...think about it. Think about the arms twisting behind the backs of the ones who bent over for the opportunity to bend you over. No honest or decent soul holds their peace when organized crime is running the country. And make no mistake… the Bush Family is a crime family. From Jeb Bush’s connections to the offshore Florida boat casinos, to Neil Bush’s S&L scams to George W.’s front-boy work for the corporations and crime lords to Mac-daddy’s drug business and the BCCI, you are dealing with ‘organized crime’. Try to imagine what happens when you fuck with these people.

What if you really don’t care about the MONEY? Do you care about your family?
Everybody can be hurt somewhere and that’s why it’s so quiet...too quiet.

But somehow it comes out...somehow; not all of it by any means. But somehow we know through a variety of ways; through courageous bloggers, through honest web sites like WhatReallyHappened... because of brave prosecutors like Patrick Fitzgerald and the odd whistle blower and outraged citizen. There is some kind of mysterious power in the universe that presses the truth out before our eyes. Never before, except in Nazi Germany, Stalinist Russia or Red China has the press been such a catamite. And once again… where does the press get its MONEY? Its MONEY comes from corporations.

The culture and the nation are terminally corrupt and, as always with corruption, eventually it destroys the host body. Are there enough pharmaceuticals and band aids to save the patient? Well... which solution makes more MONEY? Maybe you can render down the body components for more than you can get for keeping the patient alive. I’ll leave it to your presumed intelligence to reason out how this is in fact happening already in terms of downsizing and outsourcing and Frankenstein recycling.

When you are watching a stage presentation, or a concert, you are only seeing the performance. It takes a trained eye to note all of the other things taking place that makes the performance so effective. It takes knowledge of the process to know and understand all of what had to be accomplished before the presentation even began. Most folk are neither inclined nor equipped for this. Politicians and crime families and religious organizations know that you only have to appeal to the lowest common denominator to make your nut and… this is why ‘dumbing down’ is going down at such a remarkable rate. The stupider you can make the rank and file the greater your success rate. If you’re going to be really outrageous in your scams, why then, you just make their lives a little more desperate or the distractions more pervasive. Take a hard, clear look at what I am saying. What kind of music are you hearing on the radio? The news is not presented. It is manufactured. Bad food makes you stupid too, ...but I digress.

I’d like to say wakeup but I know what you did yesterday and how much you drank last night. I know what time you went to bed and what kind of shape you’ve been in. The good news is that when your house catches on fire you may well sleep through it and never realize you are dead; not any more than you were ever actually conscious that you were alive. The bad news is that you didn’t wake up and it won’t be an open casket funeral and, oh yeah, you’re dead...

To live a passionate and noble existence is a grand thing. To intensely feel the power of being alive and to reach for your highest capacity has a return that can’t be measured in terms of MONEY and a phony PR-cooked persona... but in the end, you’ll have to be the judge of that yourself.

Visible sings: 911 was an Inside Job by Les Visible♫ Bush Family History Lesson ♫
'Bush Family History Lesson' is track no. 5 of 10 on Visible's 2002 album
'911 was an Inside Job'

911 was an Inside Job by Les Visible