July 27, 2009

The Mayan Moon Above Cancun

We met beneath the shining Mayan moon
That glows above the seas of old Cancún
Cruise ships sparkled like jewels upon the darkened sea
And beckoned forth with love to you and me
Flying fish jumped in the night
Like shooting stars through the bright moonlight

The eternal Mayan pyramids that climb up to touch the Caribbean sky                                                                                                        Bear witness to our everlasting love that can never die
One day we shall return to old Cancún
Where our romance first stirred beneath the Mayan moon

The multi-colored fish within the sea
Rejoice the love that’s shared ‘tween you and me
The coral reef that shines beneath the waves
The lovely things that live within its caves
The pelicans that hover in the skies above
Do celebrate the beauty of our romantic love

The loving devotion that together binds our hearts
Was born beneath the eternal Mayan moon
That nestled in its firmament of glistening stars
Stands watch above the seas of old Cancún

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July 15, 2009

Supreme Stooges

                                                                             Supreme Court Justice Dave Schultz

Leave me alone about freakin judge Sonya Sotomayor! What do I care about judges, who are a bunch of misfits? OK, they need to appoint a Democrat to the Supreme Court so there no longer exists a Republican majority to steal another election as they did in 2000, that I will grant you.

But, fundamentally, the Supreme Court is staffed with a group of judicial stooges. When the freakin Supreme Court voted unanimously to let the bogus Paula Jones lawsuit against Clinton, who was the sitting president at the time, go through it plunged the country into chaos for years, leading to the bogus impeachment trial against Clinton in the Senate, which collapsed when the fact emerged that all the Republican senators who were leading the charge were themselves also guilty of adultery (hats off to Larry Flynt). Clinton ended up surviving while Gingrich, Hyde and all the other big Republican pricks were forced to resign. But it was the idiot Supreme Court that initiated the process.

Who gets appointed to the Supreme Court? Lawyers, who are trained to lie and subvert reality. I recently had to go to court to sue the bus company for negligence for breaking my arm. The bus company sent an attorney who didn’t know spit, but she knew how to lie and play mind games. She was a Condoleeza Rice clone, and her brainpower was the equivalent of Condoleeza Rice’s, which is to say: nothing. The jury saw through her and awarded me the judgment.

Lawyers are trained in the statutes and the decisions, but they are not trained in ethics. Therefore, they believe they can get away with anything. When I was on the stand the defense subjected me to a charade game of “answer yes or no”. Finally, I complained, “That’s a loaded question”. The defense screamed, “Objection, your honor!”

The judge screamed at me, “You have to answer the question ‘yes or no’". But I had made my point to the jury. Ultimately they voted in my favor.

Let me give you an example to where this “yes or no” technique can result in a distortion of reality:

“President Washington, isn’t it true that you are a traitor to your country? Yes or no”.

“No”.

But isn’t it true that the legally constituted government of the thirteen colonies was the British crown in London, England? Yes or no”.

“That’s a load of baloney”.

“Objection, your honor!”

“Answer yes or no”.

“Yes”.

“Therefore you engaged in treason, is that correct? Yes or no”.

Blah blah blah. What a bunch of horseshit!

Basically, the last person you want deciding a case is an attorney, which is what most judges are (nothing in the law mandates that judges be chosen from the ranks of attorneys). Frankly, I would be happier if judges were picked from the ranks of professional athletes, whom natural selection has chosen to be the true leaders of humanity. Personally, my choice for the bench would be Dave Schultz, who was the captain of the 1970’s Philadelphia Flyers hockey team, and who led the famed “Schultz’s Army” of Schultz, Clark and Makalarky to the Stanley Cup.

“Presiding judge, Dave Schultz”.

“Your honor, I move for a summary dismissal of the lawsuit brought by 200motels against the MTA”.

“Fuck you, ya moron! One more word of you and I’ll come down off the bench and knock your teeth out, you pencil-neck mutherfucker of a lawyer!”

The biggest problem I have with freakin Sonya Sotomayor is her often-repeated statement “I would hope that a wise Latina woman with the richness of her experience would more often than not reach a better conclusion than a white male”.

Whoa! Hold the phone right there, Manuela! Affirmative action was originally conceived to level the playing field, not to tilt it in the other direction. Any horse manure about Spanish women being more qualified than a white male is the distorted product of a sick mind. This was not an offhand remark, but a statement of policy that she has repeated on several documented occasions.

I am perfectly cognizant of the fact that American society was built on a foundation of slavery and exploitation, even to the extent that the Capitol and the White House were built using slave labor. But there has to be a more equitable solution for redressing historical grievances than the one we are presently pursuing. Obama doesn’t have all the answers. He is not even capable of throwing a baseball sixty feet, as he proved last night at the All-Star Game. Any decent American president of his age would have gone into the bullpen and thrown a few warm-up pitches before going public with it.

Having lived in New York for several decades already, I know how these dorks are capable of creating their own perverted alternative reality. I see it all around me on a daily basis. That’s why we have no manufacturing base left and why the financial services sector has been reduced to meltdown status. This is a terrible thing to say, but there is an understanding between the women, the gays and the minorities to reshuffle the deck, leaving white alpha males at the bottom of the pile. Oh, there are still white males around, but they are the politically correct metrosexual men, who have had any leadership ability leeched out of them. This is the new economic reality, which is why we are in our present situation.

Fine, what do I care? I will find a way to survive as I always have. I am certainly not advocating a social counter-revolution, which would throw us into the tender embrace of Bill O’Reilly and Fox News. But until we as a society return to a society of merit, and I am not referring to which freakin school you attended, the situation will continue to deteriorate to the point where people are driving to the country and butchering cattle in the fields to feed their families, which happened in Argentina when its currency collapsed.

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July 11, 2009

Battle For The Ages: Holyfield - Foreman 1991

My girlfriend, Magpie, insists that I am quite mad because I insist on portraying my characters in an unfavorable light. I wish that I would meet some cool people, but coolness has been out of style for along time. As a result, I am forced to play the hand I am dealt.

I was talking to this one turkey, he looked like a turkey with a shaved head and big fat pot belly, about fitness and sport. He told me, jovially, “I used to be fit when I was young”. The guy was at most 30 years old.

What happened to the ethic of “fit for life”? It has evidently been definitively interred in favor of going back to the old ways, whatever those are. Recently, The New York Post (“it’s gotta be true!”) ran an article on fitness, about how it was possible even for people over forty to get fit, although only in a limited way.

Are you kidding? Forty? When I was forty, the forty-year-olds basically ran everything: marathons, bodybuilding, baseball, you name it. The twenty and thirty year-olds were already falling behind. That must have been the top of the curve, which has been declining ever since. I was running five miles a day and then doing a full weight workout. I was boxing, practicing martial arts, jumping rope, swimming. My bible was Muscle & Fitness Magazine, which was directed by the inestimable gods of bodybuilding, Joe and Ben Weider. When Arnold Schwartznegger was forty he was hard as a rock, and the undisputed star of Hollywood cinema. Oh boy, it was a groove to be forty!

I was reminded of this last night, watching an evening of classic boxing matches on ESPN. They reprised the 1991 Heavyweight Championship match between then-reigning champ Evander Holyfield, 225 lbs. of hard muscle and superb aerobic conditioning, against George Foreman, 50, an immense mountain of muscle at 255 lbs. Foreman had been champion back in 1973, and he decided to make a comeback, to the disdain and ridicule of the boxing press. But Foreman made monkeys out of those characters, beating a series of tomato cans until he had positioned himself to meet Holyfield at Trump Resort and Casino in Atlantic City.

Foreman was huge and powerful, and Holyfield’s announced strategy was to keep moving to the side and to box him, wearing him down round by round until the fourth round, when he estimated that Foreman would run out of steam, and then Holyfield would mercifully finish the old guy off.

Right from the beginning it was apparent that Holyfield had miscalculated. Foreman was flat-footed and not a little bit slow. He absorbed a lot of haymaker shots from Holyfield that would have demolished a regular fighter. He had a funny-looking defense of crossing his arms in front of his body like a fatman trying to ward off blows to his midsection. Holyfield did a fine job of moving to his side and making Foreman chase him around the ring, making sure to keep away from the ropes and avoiding the corners of the ring, which would have been suicide. He was controlling Foreman with overhand right-left hook combinations and beautiful hard jabs followed by uppercuts and left hooks. Based on artistic boxing, Holyfield was the dominant fighter by far.

But none of this fazed Foreman. Starting in round 2, he started to find his game, which was his right hand, and he repeatedly landed devastating right hooks to the head of Holyfield, which Holyfield only mitigated by using a really cool trick that he had of raising his left shoulder to deflect the force of the blow before it reached his head. It was like a bullfight with Holyfield as the toreador and Foreman as the bull.

Just to leave a psychological impact on Holyfield’s mind, Foreman even refused to sit down in his corner between rounds, preferring to stand as his handlers sponged him off, while the younger man sat huffing and puffing.

As the fight progressed, it was the reverse of Holyfield’s strategy. It was Foreman who wore him down. Holyfield was reduced to running away or standing and trading punches with the older man, which worked to his detriment. Foreman, who was absorbing a lot of punishment from Holyfield’s blockbuster bombs, withstood them all and almost put Holyfield away on several occasions. Nevertheless, Holyfield kept the presence of mind to stay away from the ropes and out of the corners, which would have been a death sentence, given Foreman’s overwhelming size and strength advantage.

While all this was going on in the ring, the crowd of 20,000 was erupting in pandemonium. Some idiot set off a smoke bomb in the audience, which would ordinarily have provoked a stampede for the exits, but the fans were so transfixed by the slugfest taking place in the ring that they ignored the smoke and stood rooted to their places, cheering on the exhilarating exhibition of pugilistic pulchritude of punching power taking place in the arena.

Holyfield expended a lot of energy going to Foreman’s mid-section, which Foreman took seriously, given all his attempts to cover it up, but the body shots didn’t end up having much effect, considering the huge mass of muscle and surrounding belly fat they were supposed to penetrate, which was about the equivalent of trying to damage a hard 7 foot body bag with your gloved hand. It was the head shots inflicted by Holyfield that did the most damage, with Foreman’s face showing a great deal of swelling towards the end of the bout.

The Spanish language has an old bit of philosophy that states, “The devil is evil because he’s old”, and Foreman countered Holyfield’s relative speed and agility with a big bag of tricks that grew from more years of fighting in the ring than Holyfield could count being in this world. To wear down the younger man even more, Foreman would clinch him and lean on him, and Holyfield would find himself in the unenviable position of having to hold Foreman up, which required a lot of energy that he could not spare.

By the end of the twelfth and final round, which nobody expected the fight to go that far, Holyfield and Foreman were both so exhausted that they were holding each other up, their faces impassive. Holyfield had clearly won the fight based on the number of shots landed, and anyway, unless the contender puts on a vastly superior performance, the decision always goes to the reigning champ.

But Foreman had made his point. At age 50, he was still a fearsome competitor, a real life Rocky Balboa. It was Foreman who displayed outstanding sportsmanship by approaching Holyfield and congratulating him for a masterful performance, when ordinarily it is the role of the winner to congratulate the loser. Foreman struck a blow for all of us aging sports fanatics who refuse to take a back seat to the younger generation. As Muscle & Fitness has ceaselessly insisted for decades, you can always keep on building strength and putting on muscle mass until the end of your days. Aerobic training and devotion to the fundamentals of boxing, combined with the wisdom that comes from experience can help to narrow the edge of the faster speed and reflexes enjoyed by youth.

I am reminded of the story about the old bull and the young bull standing on the hill. The young bull says, “Let’s run down and screw a cow”. The old bull answers, “Let’s walk down and screw them all”.

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July 08, 2009

The China Syndrome

When the dotcom bubble was developing I happened to be working in legal services in the historic Standard Oil Building at 26 Broadway, directly facing the brass bull on Bowling Green. When I went out onto the sidewalk for a smoke, I would see young bankers in business suits cruising down Broadway on little kiddie scooters. “This will never endure”, I told myself.

I would try to relate my misgivings to my girlfriend, Magpie, who erupted in scorn at my defeatist attitude, calling me a commie, a negativist person and a loser. “It’ll never go down”, she exclaimed. “Why don’t you seek psychiatric therapy?”

Well, we all know how that worked out. Nevertheless, the banking community soon rebounded with yet another gimmick from its bag of tricks – securitization. This scam, which more closely resembled the bookmakers’ system for spreading the risk by laying off bets to the vanishing point, showed more promise.

Look, it’s devilishly simple in its complexity. I set up a company, which sells me securities in exchange for cash. This company buys mortgages from mortgage brokers which it bundles into securities of which it sells “tranches” to other dummy entities for cash, which it uses to pay me. The proceeds from the mortgages it collects, it uses to pay the interest on the securities that it sold to the other dummy entities. As long as the losers at the front end of the process keep paying their mortgages, everybody gets paid.

This is a brilliant scheme, except that the mortgage brokers, like Angelo Mozilo of Countrywide, made a determination that as long as they could offload the mortgages for cash in a hurry, it didn’t matter who they sold the houses to, even cashiers at 7/11 Stores, who had no hope of keeping up the payments.

It’s right out of Tony Soprano and the New Jersey mafia. And they succeeded beyond their wildest expectations. They sold hundreds of billions of dollars of worthless securities to so-called smart players in the international banking system. Not only that, AIG Financial Products insured these worthless pieces of garbage for pennies on the dollar, never figuring they would have to pay off since the investment banks that underwrote the issues had paid off the ratings agencies to assign the securities with a triple-A rating.

During the years that this was going on, I was holding my head in amazement. I’m from Chicago, and I know a hustler when I see one. But who listens to me? Everybody knows that I’m crazy. Meantime, bankers were getting rich all over the place. As Chuck Prince, former CEO of Citigroup, put it, “When the music is playing, you keep dancing”.

Everybody makes a big deal out of the billions that Madoff stole, but vastly more people got cleaned out from the phony derivatives, and nobody has been indicted for that! Mozilo is still swimming in his pool ha-ha! The taxpayer is on the hook for $1.7 trillion in credit default swaps that were sold by AIG Financial Products, another $400 billion in commercial real estate securities that are coming to maturity, and what-all-else I can’t even remember. Joe Biden now admits that the Obama administration vastly underestimated the economic crisis it inherited from Bush.

What’s the solution? The deep thinkers who got us into this mess have seized upon China, yet, to salvage the world economy. This is the same China that up until recently produced rubber sandals and little kiddies’ games, until it was seized upon by Wal Mart to take advantage of the tax breaks American corporations benefited from for producing overseas.

These American overseas entities have got their own creative accountants, and they know how to game the system. Let’s say you produce a pair of sneakers in Guangjou. You sell the sneakers to yourself and that produces a profit. When the shoes finally land in the states, the distributor who receives them pays you another profit. Then you keep the overseas profits in an offshore bank until Congress votes you a tax amnesty for repatriating the profits, on the condition that you invest them, which you recycle into another structured finance vehicle, and nobody ever sees that money again.

Obama has promised to end this three-card Monty game. If he does, it will pull the plug on China, leaving hundreds of millions of square meters of redundant industrial capacity. The Chinese are aware of this. That is why the Chinese are on an acquisition spree of unprecedented proportions. They have built up $2,000 bn. of profits and they are rushing headlong into purchases of raw material resources, foreign corporations, anybody willing to sell, like survivalists stocking up on canned goods and bottled water. Once Obama cuts off the offshore tax breaks, it’s back to square one.

The only people who have not figured this out are, as usual, the capitalist class, to whom, at this point, I am not giving any credit at all for brains, considering their recent past performance. They are still all trying to squeeze through the door into China at one time like a Three Stooges movie.

In addition, China is getting set to explode like a pressure cooker. The government can’t keep the lid on the internet. Last year, Tibet, which is one-sixth of Chinese territory, erupted into critical violence. Basically, riots are erupting every day in China. Even as I am writing this the Xinjiang region, which comprises another sixth (you figure it out. Between Tibet and Xinjiang, that = one-third of the country) and the bulk of the country’s natural resources, has erupted into racial warfare pitting the majority Uighur Muslim population against the occupier Han Chinese, resulting in hundreds of dead.

Last year a Russian analyst predicted the breakup of the United States. This year American intelligence reports predicted that Mexico and Pakistan would dissolve into chaos. That’s all malarkey. Mexico just held mid-term elections and had an orderly transition of congressional power. In the meantime, China, with all its internal contradictions, suppression of liberties and subjugation of internal minorities, combined with the imminent suppression of tax breaks for corporations doing business there, appears to be another delusional opium dream indulged in by our financial boobocracy.

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July 07, 2009

Typhoid Mary

Future ex-governor of Alaska Sarah Palin has released a letter through her attorney threatening to sue anybody who writes anything unkind about her. Well, BOO-HOO-HOO! It’s always the biggest pricks who threaten to sue. I was threatened with a lawsuit by a lying, thieving jerk who forged my name on phony documents of incorporation, exposing me for $20,000 of his tax debt. He barely escaped being indicted for offering a false instrument, and everything he owns is now secured by IRS liens.

I was also threatened with a lawsuit by an incontinent, unstable woman who sued and repeatedly slandered her ex-husband in the press, accusing him of sexual behavior with the dog and unnatural practices which left her crotch rotting like a jungle undergrowth. All I did was make fun of her. Ultimately, the judge forced her to abandon the suit, although that did not stop her form calling me at my home and threatening to “crush” me ha-ha! Another blown-up windbag crashes into earth. No man will ever touch her with a ten-foot pole after the things she said to the newspapers about her own crotch.

Considering the insults and slander that the Republicans have been dishing out at Democrats for hundreds of years, it’s hysterical what thin skins they themselves have. You know the old saying: all bullies are cowards, and nothing exemplifies that more than the Limbaugh-Cheney-Palin axis, who are a bunch of clowns. (So sue me!)

Republicans are losers. I always maintained that. Now that the internet has evened up the playing field a bit, giving freedom of speech to people who were heretofore excluded from the debate because they refused to kiss the butt of the reactionary establishment, the Republicans are being assaulted as never before, and it is killing them. It’s never going to stop. “Now that I’ve got you, baby, I’m never gonna let you go”.

Lawsuits or no lawsuits, the Republican Party is on its way to the elephants graveyard. Sarah freakin Palin is not going to save it. Are you kidding? A half-term governor of Alaska? I saw one knucklehead TV announcer call Palin a populist and compare her with Huey Long. She’s no Huey Long, OK? She’s a freakin bobblehead one-time beauty queen winner of an Alaskan beauty contest. Who were the other contestants, a moose and a caribou? She was the mayor of a garbage dump town in Alaska that nobody ever heard of, and a half-term governor whose only official accomplishment was to fire the state police chief when he refused to fire her brother-in-law.

You want to compare her to Huey Long? Long passed the Louisiana bar at age 20 without ever attending college. He practiced law; got elected to the state legislature; got appointed state railroad commissioner and went to war against Standard Oil, forcing them to pay a royalty for each barrel of oil extracted in the state; got elected governor twice; built the state highway network; established statewide public education with free textbooks for poor students; built Louisiana State University and established its medical center; got elected U.S. senator and simultaneously held the posts of senator and governor. The Republicans tried to impeach Long as governor, but he went onto the floor of the state senate and directed his own parliamentary defense, defeating their effort. In 1933 Long decided to run for president and scared the pants off of Pres. Franklin D. Roosevelt. He might have succeeded, but he was assassinated in the Louisiana state capitol in Baton Rouge by – a Republican.

For anyone to compare a witless stooge like Sarah Palin, a mouth with no brain, to a monumental political genius like Huey Long, is an example of the kind of jackasses who inhabit our present body politic. Sarah Palin doesn’t even have the ability or expertise to operate a hot dog stand on the Coney Island boardwalk. She is a wretched inflatable doll with a string sticking out, and you pull the string and she repeats imbecilic little slogans like a Barbie Doll. To mention her in the same context as Huey Long is an abomination.

Life is more than just a load of hot air that you blast out of your mouth, and what Sarah Palin must ultimately confront, after a lifetime of shooting off empty noise, is the extent of her accomplishments, which basically consist of creating grief for everybody with whom she has come into contact. Palin is Typhoid Mary, spreading bad vibes and illness everywhere she goes without ever having to endure the consequences herself.

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July 07, 2009

The Michael Jackson Memorial Barbecue

Michael Jackson’s death couldn’t have come at a better time for the economy than if it had been planned by the Council of Economic Advisors.

Oh, come on! The government wouldn’t do something like that. Or would it? The CIA has been accused of a lot of nefarious things in the past, like trying to kill Castro, the Kennedys, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, etc. Basically, they are not above a little mayhem – if it’s for a good cause.

Because Michael Jackson dying makes a lot of economic sense as a stimulus package. The accompanying chart tells the story:
In Graph A you have Michael Jackson alive. It’s flat. He’s listless, lethargic and lazy. Record sales not moving at all. He’s getting ready to try for a comeback, but the only people who care are his hardcore fan base, which has shrunk.
Graph B, however, shows him deceased. It’s off the charts! Worldwide record sales, which have been declining since 2002, are shooting through the roof, along with videos, television ratings, airline and hotel room sales to LA for his memorial show. That’s a lot of jobs!

Nothing revives a wilted showbusiness career like dying, and with the economy in such lousy shape Michael is performing his patriotic duty, giving something back to the community. Not only that, he’s performed a service for social conservatives, who hate him. Rep. Peter King of Long Island even said as much. Michael’s mortality gives these pricks some hope that the rest of us will follow him into the grave as well, cheering them up and hopefully motivating them to part with a few bucks on whatever kind of sanctimonious swill it is they like to consume.

So everybody’s happy except for the Jackson family, but even they will be heartened when his astronomical royalty checks start rolling in. I don’t want to be callous, but what do you think a small vial of Michael Jackson’s cremation ashes, duly certified and tastefully preserved, would be worth? Billions! The guy’s physical body could be a collector’s item for the ages, right up there with the Holy Grail and the Shroud of Turin. Hell, why not?

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July 05, 2009

GOP Kennel Club

                                                                                           Gov. Palin's press conference

Things are so bad for the Republican Party, they might have to bring Larry Craig back to firm things up. Unlike South Carolina governor Mark Sanford, who disappeared down to Argentina, when his aides supposedly claimed him to be hiking on the Shenandoah Trail (what kind of a lame alibi is that?), you can at least locate Sen. Craig by scouring the public toilets.

This Sanford was always a loser. He represents the most reactionary state in the union, and that’s saying a mouthful. President Andrew Jackson once threatened to send the army there to hang the state’s insurrectionist elements, and in 1861 South Carolina was the first state to try to secede from the union, when the natives there fired on the army post at Fort Sumter, igniting the civil war. Frankly, it would be a lot more agreeable to let these hicks form their own creepy country, but unfortunately they are located in a strategic part of the eastern seaboard, so we are stuck with them.

But they are rubes, and it’s doubtful Mark Sanford could have prevailed on their sense of reason and sanity by publicly admitting that things were not working out between him and his wife and explaining that he had fallen for a spicy Argentinian firecracker.

Oh, he was crying the whole time he was down in Buenos Aires. Crying tears of joy over the way Senorita Speeda Gonzalez was yanking his crank like a NASCAR pit stop mechanic, and reeling and a-rocking him like his back ain’t got no bone. He was crying every time he thought about having to return to his wooden cigar store Indian of a wife and his useless life, which was dedicated to making the whole rest of the country miserable with his cheap prick behavior and half-wit down home philosophy. Even some Republicans have been repelled by his strident, moralistic attitudes.

As the Republican base continues to contract into a tighter and tighter ball, like a school of anchovies being devoured by marauding dolphins, the only politicians capable of appealing to its primitive nature are irredentist hardcore pricks like Sanford, whose unstable character and fragile psychology render them ticking time bombs of self-immolation.

The latest idiot attack to erupt concerns the Republican Barbie Doll, hockey mom and pit bull with lipstick, loudmouth Alaska governor Sarah Palin who only two years into her first term has found herself forced to resign for reasons which are yet unclear. Whatever the circumstances are, they must be terrible, because trying to claw these idiot politicians from their jobs is like trying to eradicate a herpes rash. Even Sanford is hanging onto his job. Basically, having a vague idea of Alaska politics, I feel there must be some element of criminal behavior. On the other hand, maybe she just decided that she couldn't handle the governor's job, and she would do better as a national mouthpiece for the Republican Party. As Bush's disgraced former Defense Secretary, Donald Rumsfeld, once opined, "if you have a problem you can't solve, create a bigger problem". Following that logic, Palin might be transforming Alaska's problem, herself, into a national problem.

People are complaining about some of my characterizations of modern women, whom I fundamentally accuse of spoiled, incontinent behavior. This Governor Palin is a good illustration of my basic premise that many are not exactly dedicated to practicing self-control. Right out of the starting gate, one of her first official acts was a vindictive attempt to get her brother-in-law, who was fighting a bitter divorce battle with her sister, fired from his job as an Alaska state trooper. When the chief of police refused to cooperate, citing lack of cause, she got him fired. And this was just for starters. In the two years she has been in office, she has been overwhelmed by a continuing stream of ethics investigations, one of which concluded that the charges were true, although the state legislature declined to take any actions against her.

More phony than Sarah Palin is not possible. She excoriated comedian David Letterman for exposing her family to  ridicule, but it was she herself who, during the election  campaign, brought her autistic daughter to New York for a photo opportunity with her husband taking the kid for a ride on the Central Park carrousel, the kid's eyes rolling around in her head like a pinball machine, looking for all the world like she would rather have been in Philadelphia, as W.C. Fields used to put it. Palin brought in the guy who knocked up her daughter to live in her house, in a demonstration of bogus family values, but immediately after the election she unceremoniously kicked him out the back door. Her half-wit strategy is to use anybody at hand for momentary advantage.

Palin promises not to fade from the public eye, which is a lamentable prospect. She can join Eliot Spitzer, Cheney, Blagojevich et al as failed idiots who continue to inflict themselves on the body politic even though they have far exceeded their expiration date. The reason we have such idiots for leaders is because nobody decent would be caught dead running for political office.

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July 03, 2009

I'm Soooo BORED!

Here is a recent photo of me in the Patagonian rain forest. I took some of the native Viagra, which stretched my pecker out two feet long, and it became inhabited by parrots and monkeys.

Does that make me an interesting person? Nah, anybody can come up with a few bucks for a plane ticket. So what makes a person interesting? A lot of New Yorkers think having some money will make them interesting, like Madoff, so they chisel and steal and kiss butt for their entire life and they get the money, and then they blow off a load of hot air about their house, their cars, I don’t know what else. It’s blank tedium.

Sometimes I have a few drinks with my girlfriend, Magpie, and I tell her what’s on my mind. Yesterday I tried to tell her that I felt Michael Jackson’s father, Joe Jackson, should not be continually excoriated in the media because he might have smacked Michael for not working hard enough when he was a kid. Michael Jackson said in numerous interviews that his father would hit him with a leather belt when he was not performing to the extent of his potential.

“Look,” I told her, “Gary, Indiana is a tough place. It used to be a city of steel mills. Now even those are gone, and the whole city is on welfare. Joe Jackson had to raise nine kids by working in steel mills, working two jobs at once, doing God knows what to put food on the table. What little money he could scratch together, he spent on musical instruments for his kids because he figured, even though it was a longshot, maybe they could get a band together and use that as a way to get out of the ghetto and escape poverty. If it weren’t for that they’d probably all be crackheads today.

“So he smacked the kid! Maybe he felt Michael was not working hard enough to exploit the talent God gave him and not appreciating the sacrifices that his parents were then giving him. It’s the same story with Serena and Venus Williams. Their father never struck them because they were girls, but he rode them unmercifully when he felt they weren’t competing hard enough. But now the Williams sisters are millionaires. Michael Jackson died owning the equivalent of whole countries.

“Another thing. Nobody ever wondered what Joe Jackson had to endure in his life. He probably got beat up a lot, both as a child and as an adult. However much he may have chased Michael around the house with a leather belt, he probably figured that this was nothing compared to what he had had to endure and was still having to deal with, being responsible for raising a big family under horrific conditions.

“I don’t care what Anderson Cooper might have to say on CNN about Michael Jackson’s nightmarish abuse as a child. Anderson Cooper was Gloria Vanderbilt’s son and he grew up in the lap of luxury. The worst thing Anderson Cooper has ever had to endure has been to take a big one up the butt without sufficient lubrication.”

Magpie looked at me, aghast. “How do you know that?” she exclaimed. “Did you research it?”

“What, Joe Jackson, or Anderson Cooper’s butt?”

“You need to consult a psychiatrist!”

“I don’t think I need to see any psychiatrist for stating what are plain facts”.

Magpie’s solution for me is always psychiatric therapy. Which is astounding, considering the whack jobs she associates with. Any time I reflect on a situation and come up with a conclusion that varies from what she has seen on television, it makes me a candidate for Bellevue’s psycho ward.

That’s why people are so tedious. OK, most people are severely limited to start with. Talking to them is the equivalent of poking a caged animal with a stick. Nobody knows anything. Even if somebody should be struck with the inspiration of an original idea, he’s afraid to express it or fear of being accused of mental illness. What we are presently dealing with is a situation of enforced conformity. That’s why people dress so shabbily. They think nothing of spending millions of bucks on their houses and cars, but their freakin wardrobes are from J.C. Penney, so that they won’t be perceived by their peers as being stuck up.

Anyway, even if people would have the audacity to think of something interesting, nobody could express it anyway, because with Twitter and text messaging they have lost the capacity to spell and write, if they ever even had it, which is doubtful. This is how Shakespeare would look on Twitter:

2B or not 2B
Tht is the ?

Fuckoff! Don’t waste my time, moron!

I’m an exhibitionist, OK? Some people like to expose themselves on subway trains. I like to expose myself on the internet. Believe me, as nuts as this blog is, there is still plenty that I’m holding back (big surprise!).

But I am not going to let myself be driven into a hole because my freakin girlfriend or her phony-ass friends don’t approve. She has one friend who is so full of baloney that she has got a full Rogers & Hammerstein grand piano in her living room, and she can’t even play chopsticks. When Magpie told me this, my immediate reaction was, “She should put in a harmonica instead. It takes up less room, and she can’t play that either”.

Magpie exploded, “You idiot, you don’t know anything!”

Yeah, I don’t know anything. I’m an idiot. I’m a dummy! HA-HA-HA, look at the dummy! Look at ol’ stupido!

I may be a freakin idiot, but I’m not stoopid enough to fill up an apartment with a grand piano I can’t play!

Fuck this. I think I’ll go get drunk. I wish I had some reefer.

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Posted on 7/3/2009 ( Permanent Link )
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