February 25, 2006
HARD’ A PORT MATEYS
.
TURNABOUT IS FAIR PLAY
Talk about Bush bashing opportunities, the port flap is a pure unfettered hypocritical hysterical joy.
Ultimate Corporatism would have ‘capitalism‘ replace all other isms. The goal is to have nationalism and religion give way to a trans border culture of commerce or greed. If a once terror related Middle Eastern power state makes a billion dollar investment in its enemy of yesteryear, cries of Hosannah and ‘Greed is Great’ should ring from all tall office buildings. Money is morality. While not perhaps as striking as having the Iranians order their nuclear needs from Halliburton, the Port Management purchase stands out as a major coup for Corporatism.
Now, let’s return to the task at hand.
How dare you give up our ports' security to Islamacists? Who’s going to do the security when they’re screaming and waving their arms on their magic carpets four times a day or six times or eight times? What were you thinking? What about our safety? What about our security? Just too many g.d.beards for me. “Helmsman, one hundred eighty degrees to starboard. Now !!!”
.
TURNABOUT IS FAIR PLAY
Talk about Bush bashing opportunities, the port flap is a pure unfettered hypocritical hysterical joy.
Ultimate Corporatism would have ‘capitalism‘ replace all other isms. The goal is to have nationalism and religion give way to a trans border culture of commerce or greed. If a once terror related Middle Eastern power state makes a billion dollar investment in its enemy of yesteryear, cries of Hosannah and ‘Greed is Great’ should ring from all tall office buildings. Money is morality. While not perhaps as striking as having the Iranians order their nuclear needs from Halliburton, the Port Management purchase stands out as a major coup for Corporatism.
Now, let’s return to the task at hand.
How dare you give up our ports' security to Islamacists? Who’s going to do the security when they’re screaming and waving their arms on their magic carpets four times a day or six times or eight times? What were you thinking? What about our safety? What about our security? Just too many g.d.beards for me. “Helmsman, one hundred eighty degrees to starboard. Now !!!”
.
February 22, 2006
THE GOOD OIL DAYS
.
President Bush softly sings.
I Miss Arafat in the Springtime,
I miss Sadaam in the fall,
Fidel and Hugo are going Islam, in the Winter,
I Had No Idea at All.
President Bush softly sings.
I Miss Arafat in the Springtime,
I miss Sadaam in the fall,
Fidel and Hugo are going Islam, in the Winter,
I Had No Idea at All.
FROM DOWD TO HANNITY
I HAD A DREAM
From the elite of the quill profession to the sometimes cartoonish talking heads of T.V., as in from Dowd to Hannity, the media of America do scant little to educate the public.
Collectively they behave as if they were youth taking alternating peeps through a hole in the wall of the boys and/or girls gym locker room. Espying a calf or a buttock they clamor and jostle to press their eye to the peephole and set off en masse to repeat gossipy chatter as news. This game, which is passed off as a profession, is today so ingrained that there is little reasoned analysis and the public neither wants nor expects any.
A case in point:
Thanks primarily to Jack Murtha's epically effective expose of the facts, Bush's positive ratings on his Iraq policy plummeted to the low 40's. This number was so low that the White House crew was forced to admit that no amount of dangling '9/11', terrorism, 'patriotism' and 'Stay the Course' in front of the peephole was going to bring back acceptable poll numbers.
The crew began to tell the truth. Murtha had poll-wise boxed in the White House and they began a strategy of selective honesty. (Yes, the intelligence was faulty. Yes, we made some mistakes. Yes, they see us as 'Occupiers'.)
I found the crew's new strategy to be hilarious. Imagine Mr. Brain telling W that the new strategy was to tell the truth on a few key points and to convey humility. I imagined W screaming "Are you nuts? Tell the truth? Not on my watch." and Karl saying, " It's not that big of a deal. Remember, they've only got that little peephole. They'll miss most of it."
A bigger case in point:
What I heard from George Bush, Karl Rove and the neocons at the State of the Union was a dead serious speech of great import and huge consequences. When President George W. Bush announced that we could no longer rely on unstable Middle East oil he was announcing the failure of his war in Iraq. When he announced that the U.S. needs to prodigiously expedite alternate energy sources and conservation he announced that we will not be striving for a large military footprint in the Persian oil patch. He announced that we are going to come home, again, from a foreign military adventure with little to commend us for the effort. If he bridles at second guessing and hindsight, given the advice he was given, who can blame him?
G.W. gave a speech all right. It was entitled "I Had A Dream."
I had a dream that the Iraqis would greet us as liberators.
I had a dream that the expatriates and exiles we championed would dominate Iraq for the foreseeable future.
I had a dream that we could have permanent bases in Iraq.
I had a dream that America could triple its secure hydrocarbon reserves by politically annexing Iraq.
Postscript: The media seemed to enjoy President Bush's use of the word 'addicted.'
America is addicted to oil, he said. "Well, that sounds just like America is drunk on oil," was the wisdom from the peephole and America needs a Gasaholics Anonymous meeting chortles the media.
Pardon me, but I don't think that Karl Rove, even on his best day, would have considered it possible for the media to whoop it up over the word, addicted, when the White House oil crew had just done the unthinkable and bear hugged every liberal's energy policy.
Vote for the GOP, the clean energy Party.
I Had A Dream.
From the elite of the quill profession to the sometimes cartoonish talking heads of T.V., as in from Dowd to Hannity, the media of America do scant little to educate the public.
Collectively they behave as if they were youth taking alternating peeps through a hole in the wall of the boys and/or girls gym locker room. Espying a calf or a buttock they clamor and jostle to press their eye to the peephole and set off en masse to repeat gossipy chatter as news. This game, which is passed off as a profession, is today so ingrained that there is little reasoned analysis and the public neither wants nor expects any.
A case in point:
Thanks primarily to Jack Murtha's epically effective expose of the facts, Bush's positive ratings on his Iraq policy plummeted to the low 40's. This number was so low that the White House crew was forced to admit that no amount of dangling '9/11', terrorism, 'patriotism' and 'Stay the Course' in front of the peephole was going to bring back acceptable poll numbers.
The crew began to tell the truth. Murtha had poll-wise boxed in the White House and they began a strategy of selective honesty. (Yes, the intelligence was faulty. Yes, we made some mistakes. Yes, they see us as 'Occupiers'.)
I found the crew's new strategy to be hilarious. Imagine Mr. Brain telling W that the new strategy was to tell the truth on a few key points and to convey humility. I imagined W screaming "Are you nuts? Tell the truth? Not on my watch." and Karl saying, " It's not that big of a deal. Remember, they've only got that little peephole. They'll miss most of it."
A bigger case in point:
What I heard from George Bush, Karl Rove and the neocons at the State of the Union was a dead serious speech of great import and huge consequences. When President George W. Bush announced that we could no longer rely on unstable Middle East oil he was announcing the failure of his war in Iraq. When he announced that the U.S. needs to prodigiously expedite alternate energy sources and conservation he announced that we will not be striving for a large military footprint in the Persian oil patch. He announced that we are going to come home, again, from a foreign military adventure with little to commend us for the effort. If he bridles at second guessing and hindsight, given the advice he was given, who can blame him?
G.W. gave a speech all right. It was entitled "I Had A Dream."
I had a dream that the Iraqis would greet us as liberators.
I had a dream that the expatriates and exiles we championed would dominate Iraq for the foreseeable future.
I had a dream that we could have permanent bases in Iraq.
I had a dream that America could triple its secure hydrocarbon reserves by politically annexing Iraq.
Postscript: The media seemed to enjoy President Bush's use of the word 'addicted.'
America is addicted to oil, he said. "Well, that sounds just like America is drunk on oil," was the wisdom from the peephole and America needs a Gasaholics Anonymous meeting chortles the media.
Pardon me, but I don't think that Karl Rove, even on his best day, would have considered it possible for the media to whoop it up over the word, addicted, when the White House oil crew had just done the unthinkable and bear hugged every liberal's energy policy.
Vote for the GOP, the clean energy Party.
I Had A Dream.
Labels: Creative Writing, Published Letters
February 11, 2006
DICK CHENEY and MIKE TYSON
.
What do these two fine gentlemen have in common?
They both exhibit psychopathic tendencies. And:
In would behoove you to cover your ears when in their presence.
What do these two fine gentlemen have in common?
They both exhibit psychopathic tendencies. And:
In would behoove you to cover your ears when in their presence.
Labels: Bush Admin, Social Issues
February 03, 2006
THE DADDY PARTY
.
The Dramatist of Wisdom Past spoke with me last night.
“If when the administration knuckleheads are informed that “The terrorists are coming, (the ones who have been blowing up our embassies and attacking the World Trade Center.) The Terrorists are coming, through the air,” they see no photo op or political gain, they do nothing.” They do the Crawford thing.
“If when the administration knuckleheads are informed that it is likely that the levees will be breached and thousands may die, seeing no photo op or political policy mandate, they do nothing.” They do the Crawford thing.
Now having been caught red handed, to a one hundred per cent degree of certainty, violating the letter and the spirit of all recent domestic eavesdropping legislation the aforementioned political impresarios see paydirt. “We are the Daddy Party. We are the tough guys,” they chant whilst gleefully reviewing polls that back their slogans.
This spying, they say, is too, too secret for the Daddy Party to be airing it in public by doing the legal thing.
(Let‘s listen in on recent public utterances vis a vis the secret National Security Agency.)
Daddy: This spying is for the Daddy Party. It’s way too secret to discuss. If you talk about our spying, well, you’re the Mommy Party, you’re aiding the enemy.
Tourguide: Do you all have your maps? We’re on our way to Fort Meade, the previously unknown headquarters of the previously unknown National Security Agency which, although it’s way to secret to be talked about in public is known as ‘NSA.’ Actually NSA stands for no-such-agency if you, hee, hee, know what I mean.
The unknown agency is located umpteen miles from the Capitol, the routes are all marked out on your maps. It is situated on umpteen acres, has umpteen buildings and umpteen employees.
Look, there is your Presidential convoy arriving at the unknown agency at its never discussed location, bringing your President to talk to the umpteen employees which number was heretofore classified but now its part of today’s international media presentation.
Aha! I see you in the back there, Mr. Al Jazeera. Might I respectfully suggest that you keep your cell phone off for the remainder of today’s presentation?
OOPS, silly me Mr. Jazeera. That man in the black coat over there has indicated, well actually several men in black coats have indicated, that it would be just jolly good of you to use your cell phone to your heart’s desire. And you know what, may I call you Al, Mr. Jazeera, feel free to use your laptop and your Blackberry at your convenience.
You are quite welcome Al. That is what you said wasn’t it. “Thank you?” It might help if you spoke a little louder, hee, hee, if you catch my drift buckeroo.
Ladies and gentlemen please take your seats. It will be just a few moments before the worldwide head of our unknown agency takes the podium to speak to the world.
That will be followed by the President making an internationally televised address of his photo shoot with the thirty thousand, oops, umpteen thousand unknown employees.
While you are waiting you may want to check out a new web site that has of late quintupled in size weekly. It is called Facts and Histories of Unknown Spy Agencies.org. Also the men in the black coats have, off the record, advised that calling Baghdad is not recommended and that googling for the words Daddy Party and Blown Cover might not be in your best interest.
And here is the President:
Daddy: Ladies and Gentlemen of the press, distinguished heretofore secret agents of NSA and Hi Al, (got a front row seat did ya?,) I’m glad you all could be with us today. Polls consistently show that the majority of you, my fellow citizens want us, the Daddy Party, to keep things all hush hush and I’m here to tell you that hush hush it’s going to be, all the way to the Supreme Court (hee, hee that’s really me) ........
The Dramatist of Wisdom Past spoke with me last night.
“If when the administration knuckleheads are informed that “The terrorists are coming, (the ones who have been blowing up our embassies and attacking the World Trade Center.) The Terrorists are coming, through the air,” they see no photo op or political gain, they do nothing.” They do the Crawford thing.
“If when the administration knuckleheads are informed that it is likely that the levees will be breached and thousands may die, seeing no photo op or political policy mandate, they do nothing.” They do the Crawford thing.
Now having been caught red handed, to a one hundred per cent degree of certainty, violating the letter and the spirit of all recent domestic eavesdropping legislation the aforementioned political impresarios see paydirt. “We are the Daddy Party. We are the tough guys,” they chant whilst gleefully reviewing polls that back their slogans.
This spying, they say, is too, too secret for the Daddy Party to be airing it in public by doing the legal thing.
(Let‘s listen in on recent public utterances vis a vis the secret National Security Agency.)
Daddy: This spying is for the Daddy Party. It’s way too secret to discuss. If you talk about our spying, well, you’re the Mommy Party, you’re aiding the enemy.
Tourguide: Do you all have your maps? We’re on our way to Fort Meade, the previously unknown headquarters of the previously unknown National Security Agency which, although it’s way to secret to be talked about in public is known as ‘NSA.’ Actually NSA stands for no-such-agency if you, hee, hee, know what I mean.
The unknown agency is located umpteen miles from the Capitol, the routes are all marked out on your maps. It is situated on umpteen acres, has umpteen buildings and umpteen employees.
Look, there is your Presidential convoy arriving at the unknown agency at its never discussed location, bringing your President to talk to the umpteen employees which number was heretofore classified but now its part of today’s international media presentation.
Aha! I see you in the back there, Mr. Al Jazeera. Might I respectfully suggest that you keep your cell phone off for the remainder of today’s presentation?
OOPS, silly me Mr. Jazeera. That man in the black coat over there has indicated, well actually several men in black coats have indicated, that it would be just jolly good of you to use your cell phone to your heart’s desire. And you know what, may I call you Al, Mr. Jazeera, feel free to use your laptop and your Blackberry at your convenience.
You are quite welcome Al. That is what you said wasn’t it. “Thank you?” It might help if you spoke a little louder, hee, hee, if you catch my drift buckeroo.
Ladies and gentlemen please take your seats. It will be just a few moments before the worldwide head of our unknown agency takes the podium to speak to the world.
That will be followed by the President making an internationally televised address of his photo shoot with the thirty thousand, oops, umpteen thousand unknown employees.
While you are waiting you may want to check out a new web site that has of late quintupled in size weekly. It is called Facts and Histories of Unknown Spy Agencies.org. Also the men in the black coats have, off the record, advised that calling Baghdad is not recommended and that googling for the words Daddy Party and Blown Cover might not be in your best interest.
And here is the President:
Daddy: Ladies and Gentlemen of the press, distinguished heretofore secret agents of NSA and Hi Al, (got a front row seat did ya?,) I’m glad you all could be with us today. Polls consistently show that the majority of you, my fellow citizens want us, the Daddy Party, to keep things all hush hush and I’m here to tell you that hush hush it’s going to be, all the way to the Supreme Court (hee, hee that’s really me) ........
Labels: Bush Admin, Creative Writing
