Sunday, April 22, 2007

Goofy Tired

I am so very bored with the Big Game Show, it's hard to stay awake sometimes. I know I know, Rome is burning and the fire departments all got shipped off to Iraq along with all the kindergartners. What can I say? What else is new?

It's just that every single time some elected/appointed commodified marketed fictitious character who takes a federal paycheck from the people opens their mouth, it doesn't even matter what they're saying anymore. We've heard every last bit of it so many times before I can't stay awake through it.

It's the same with the (cough) "news" media. It's kind of like watching the static on your TV set after the stations go off the air.

"Carol Ann! Can you hear me?" "Help me Mama!"

But no, nothing even that barely interesting comes out of these cartoon characters mouths. Not even as vaguely uncomfortably interesting as a rousing canned rendition of the national anthem with the stars and stripes whipping in the canned wind on your TV set and it wakes you up and you think, "Am I supposed to stand up and put my hand over my heart? Because, I have no pants on at the moment and I'm just not sure it would be proper to stand there like that..and..". Not even that amusing. Less amusing. More like watching a shoe horn, or a soap dish, just, sitting there, for weeks. About like that.

The mainstream BigLiesNewsCorps is still playing the same moldy old festering game of lick the chosen few and say "YUM!" on TV like you have no brains whatsoever; but we aren't watching anymore. And they know we aren't watching, we're holding our noses and dashing for escape pods by the tens of thousands every day.

You'd think they'd care about that and try to straighten up their act, but no. They will not stop tossing handfuls of brain clogging psyops into whatever remaining heads are too stupid to avoid tuning in. Either that or their channel changers are broken. The Big Boys shrinking stranglehold on the media is all they've got and they're not going to give it up.

If this were a REAL media, they'd be reporting EVERYthing and fighting each other like rabid hyenas to be the first to get a story out there. If we had a real media we'd all know about the nuclear plant emergency shut down two weeks ago, and we'd know about the long string of accidents and lies, how they kept saying the critical warning alarms going off left and right were always "just a boo-boo", everything was fine. But no one heard about it. I'm sorry, but that's news. Brad and Mz. bigLips aren't news, they're irrelevant twits from another planet who are absolutely unimportant and I'm sick of seeing their faces, hearing about them, and hearing about anyone like them. They are not news.

The mainstream "news" media is still reporting roses and daisies and republican communal orgasms of happiness joy and God - woo hoo - more bombs please!, and still pretending that EVERYBODY feels that way. Only icky freaks would fail to agree with us in every way. Frowny face time!

They're acting cheaper than street hookers, gushing phony adoration over the chosen stars of the political soap opera like they're some kind of political centerfolds or something. Hillary "She's a woman AND a Clinton", Barack "Who The Hell Is This Guy?" Obama, Time For Meds Mccain, kissypants Lieberman, Harry the weenie boy, Alberto V05 Tejano At Law, One Armed Fitzgerald, "Tip of the Iceberg" Abramoff, You Should Know Better Kennedy, Rabbi Pelosi, the aipac pay as you go plan, Rice the Hologram Woman, Wolfowitz the Comb Sucking Ear Flapping Doing Every Job On Earth Guy, Scooter "Knife Me" Libby, Hastert "the ick"... and even though they sh*t canned old drunk Rummy he's still there, Guantanamo is worse than ever, and more people are dead than we ever thought possible. And all of these cartoon characters are so unbelievable, so offensively disconnected from all known forms of reality, all of them, all of them, are just PUKE people. They all make me sick to my stomach. What a booby hatch of liars; looting and pillaging our country to death while taking our paychecks and stabbing us in the back. I'm sick of it.

Has there ever been an uglier bunch of corrupt, psychopathic, self absorbed, immature, duplicitous, dishonest, blood thirsty, greedy play actors to set foot in our nations capital? The closest any of them ever should have gotten is outside the white house, whitewashing fences.

THEY KNOW the jig is up too, can't you see it? The movie is running faster now. They're all talking faster, moving in and out of view faster, the scandals are coming in so thick and fast they barely get a week between this one and the next one.

The stupid game of "Dear Me It's Another Scandal" goes like this. "Oh you're busted now you bad guys" says some congressional committee, and then comes the high drama of congressional testimonies with easy-to-hate sleazy nazi bushitrons and earnest dedicated government lifers at each others throats.... one looks as guilty as oozing sin and some right winger in the senators seats always eulogizes the good old days and chastises the revenge obsessed dems for their mountains from mole hills tactics; and some other senator gets all wooky and testy and snarls and says something sharp enough to leave a mark, and then they all fade away like puffs of smoke because the movie is over now. What's playing next?

Oh goody, Bible Stories of Republican Corruption, Series Six, volume 9,911: "bush fires decent attorney generals to install his own hand picked pro slavery nazis to serve at his pleasure". Kaboom, big finger wagging coming from Feinstein and the regular circulation of the same old actors and actresses. "They won't get away with this, we're going to make them sorry for this. We've got them this time! Hahahaha!" And then they fade away like puffs of smoke into the night.

And Alberto says, "Nuh-uh, I din know nuthing about it, I'm just the boss. Just ask mi tejano Horhay." Horhay, is this true? "Uhhh, yep, by golly it is. He's doing a heck of a job, I'm proud of him. You're a twit for questioning his intergerty, ingertudy, honestness. So knock it off or I'll send black booted thugs to your house at midnight to snap your hamster's neck and leave it's dead carcass on your breakfast nook table, you get me sister?" "Well if the president says so it must be true. Never mind!" Then we'll hear a very brief, very dirty rendition of "See how corrupt Feinstein is!" playing in the background for two days, and then that disappears like a puff of smoke on a windy day, but she keeps coming back to work, taking our money and being obediently amnesic.

They're all amnesic. And blinder than dead people. And math challenged too because they haven't yet noticed that 5 trillion dollars is a whole lot of money to just be missing from the pentagon. What, did you have a hole in your pocket and drop it on the sidewalk? And where's the media, oh that's right they're dead too.

All we've got is this dog and pony show:
"Step right up ladies and gentlemen, have I got a deal for you! Look at these lovely new missiles, ain't they beauties?" The audience goes, OOOhh! and applauds. "You can get your dear government bunches more where these came from and they need em bad folks, to support the troops, (sniffle), and them poor little Eye-racki babies who need some of that good old freedumb and demonocracy like what we got right here at red white and blue home sweet home! Aint there enough to go around?" (Hell yeah!) "Well open up your pay checks and let dear old uncle sammy reach on in there and help himself to some mo of that money, all right now? Don't be stingy, we need bullets too! And custom range rovers in purdy colors, and we need to pay them contractors who are prit nearly half starving to death over there and workin their fingers to the bone!" (Gasps from the crowd) "Take my whole paycheck mister! I don't need it! I live in the richest country in the world and darn it, if we need more bombs for freedom then heck yeah, I'll do my part gladly". And everybody passes their paychecks up to the man in the straw hat who then twenty three skidoos it out the back door and disappears into the night like a puff of smoke.

This stuff qualifies as reruns. It's the same story over and over and over. It's like Rocky 4,521. You just can't expect to get away with it after a certain point, especially when Burgess Meredith is showing up on the set with his penguin nose going, "I'll get you yet, Batman!". "Um, wrong movie Mr. Meredith". "So what, who cares, this sucks so bad even I can't stay interested". "You've got a point sir, but still, the CIA insists that we go through the motions. So if you please... here's your scruffy stinky torn up sweats, and can you curl your lips a little to the side please? Yeah like that. Try to look, you know, tough and stupid but big hearted. That's it! You've got it, no wonder you get the big bucks!" "That's right pal! Weah weah weah!"

I know. I'm sorry.

I sound all...cynical and jaded and hopeless. But I'm not hopeless. Not for a minute. It ain't over till it's over, and it ain't over. We're still in the game and our team is huge. And it's growing like wild fire. Those washed up old vaudevillian players are dancing faster and faster, trying to keep the audience from leaving, the hats and canes and tap shoes are clacking away. But the tomatoes and rotten eggs are flying at the stage from every direction and people are going "Boo! Get off the stage! You stink!". But they pretend it isn't happening, as if the audience will be fooled into believing they DON'T really hate those people. They keep dancing faster and they keep on smiling.. and all the while you know they're afraid for their lives. And they probably should be.

So no. Hopeless isn't a part of this. Boredom is. And being up all night fixing a hard drive that committed hare kire for no reason is. I'm goofy tired. Can you tell?

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Intellectual Wrongs

I don't know about you but I've about had it with all of this intellectual rights nonsense. What is it exactly that all the heavy handed threats are about?
A news article from the Associated Press that I wanted to put on my website had this at the bottom: This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed. Well gee whiz, are we allowed to talk about it? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the purpose of the news to inform people? "Spread the news". Ever heard that saying? News is supposed to be spread. The news can't inform people if it doesn't get out there.
But don't even think about spreading it. Not any more.
God help anyone who wants to put one of the AP's news articles on their website, they'll be breaking some logic defying law. The law of acting like a selfish greedy panty wipe and having bleeding eyeballs over your NEWS ARTICLES getting out in the public domain complete with all the credit and self glorifying garbage you need to smear all over every little thing you do. It's an outrage.
It also serves to suppress information the public needs. What about that?
The news is just somebody writing a description of something that happened somewhere. It's not like the news industry owns the event. They don't. They can't say jack about it. They can't claim that the information they wrote about belongs to them. It doesn't. It's NEWS. It belongs to the public.
What about all those offices out there with clients that come and go all day and pick up the same newspaper? It gets read 50 times. Are you going to crack down on all those hair salons and doctors offices too? What's the difference?
It's self evident when it comes down to protecting some fat cat's profitability, or protecting common sense and the people's right to know, that the people and common sense can F.O.
Profits take it every time.
With whatever respect is due, the rip-off rich corporations aren't going hungry these days. More importantly, where do these people get off?
They can't have it both ways. Your news articles used to be sold to people in hard print. You had a good thing for a long time. You never came unglued over people trotting articles to the copier at work and passing them around. Why all of a sudden does the idea of people spreading important news articles amongst each other once YOU PUBLISH THEM seem like some kind of crime to you? How so? What's different?
Has anyone else seen the big name newspaper that thinks it gets to charge $4 just to read one of it's articles? Four dollars? For one article? Pick a butt cheek pal, and pucker up. That's just not going to happen. I've never paid $4 for a whole newspaper, I'm sure as heck not going to lay down and let you plunder me. What is wrong with these people's minds?
Once the news is published, it's out there. Something happens and it's something well known in the news industry. As soon as something's out there, it's open season. Every other paper in town can grab onto it and print it in their own papers too. Just change a word here and there and boom, it's not even plagiarism. It's business as usual. Moms and Dads clip articles and mail them to family members in Idaho. It spreads all over the place. It's supposed to.
You've gotten paid for your work. But now you feel compelled to assert some right to toss a fat juicy chicken into a fox hole, and then piss and moan when the foxes come up to eat it. That's just stupid.
Once you publish the news, it's out there. It's public domain. Copyrights prevent people from putting their name on your exact printed version, but it starts spreading. You've published it, it's out there. It's over. Let go. There's no claiming you've got strings attached. It's like the folks who used to tie a string to a quarter and put it into the candy machine, then get their candy and pull the quarter back out. You want to have your cake and eat it too. It doesn't work that way.
Give me one good reason why I can't put your articles on my website. I make absolutely no profit on it. What is it exactly you're losing out on? There's no money involved anywhere. If your article sits idly on a server somewhere or if it's on my website, what flaming difference does it make, really? What is your problem?
It's obvious to me that this is about more than rabid greed. It's about being an asshole. And that's something any giant corporation can do better than anything else. It's the war of the assholes, and we're the targets. And they buy the legal right to be assholes from our dear, trustworthy law makers who slime us with lies, take corporate money and grant them anything they want, no matter how outrageous.
Well, I've got a little birdie for the lot of you crooks. And by the way, Bite Me. I'm redistributing whatever I find out there, it's finder's keepers. If you don't want your precious stuff touched then put it somewhere safe. Don't throw it into the middle of the public square and then shout foul when people pick it up and use it. That's the law of nature.
News corporations need to choose. Do they want to profit by selling the news to the public, which means we get to keep it? (SELL remember? Money for NEWS. An exchange. A trade. It's ours now.) OR do you want to write all those stories and lock them away where no one can see them? Because you can't have it both ways. It's out here or it's in your safe deposit box, but don't tell me what I find in my own living room doesn't belong to me. I guaran-damn-tee you it does.

Sunday, April 01, 2007

The Definition of Consciousness

I admit that what I'm about to say is well within the realm of cynicism. But I embrace my sarcastic side. I like it. It's a good thing. I think it serves a purpose. It helps me deal with my anger when there is nothing else I can do to work toward alleviating it.

Oh, I know. There are those who ring their hands, furrow their brows and say things like, "Sarcasm is a form of hostility." To which I reply, "I'm glad you're keeping up with me Sparky."

They say it like it's a bad thing.

Trying to infer there is something wrong with feeling hostile strikes me as an attempt to control the behavior of others from a pedestal of self-superiority, which is something I detest and reject in every way. I can't help it. It gives me stomach cramps. Sometimes getting a little hostile, being a little more confrontational is exactly the right thing to do.

What gets into some people's heads? I often wonder. At times I'm reduced to stunned silence, and get a creepy feeling that's like having a huge hole in my brain as I search for reasons as to what motivates people to do and think the things they do and think.

The most recent occurrence of this was when I stumbled across an announcement of some kind about a group that I just can't understand. Maybe you can help me with this. The group is called Mothers Against Peeing Sitting Down.

I am not making this up.

No I'm not.

If I keep running across things like this I'm going to have to start carrying anti-seizure medication because it makes my eyes roll back into my head involuntarily, and I'm afraid if it happens one too many times, they may get stuck that way.

Seriously now. What is this group of mothers thinking? I get by the title that they have a serious problem with peeing while sitting down, and I deduce this has to be confined to the male gender. I further deduce it is about the males that are their own children. Children who pee. Apparently while sitting down, and this, it seems, is beyond their ability to stay quiet about.

What precisely about one's own children peeing makes it a topic of public concern? Is there anyone out there who has control of your children's urination habits? Is someone following you home, demanding to see your sons march into your bathroom and pee so they can make sure they're sitting down, all against your helpless will?

Who exactly is it that you fantasize has the remotest right to force your sons to sit while peeing? Who are you handing this strangely personal non issue to so that they may control it at their whim, and relegate you to pure irrelevance?

Because in my heart of hearts I cannot imagine that there is a soul in this world who could tell me how to pee. I just can't fathom it. Oh sure, maybe if they held a gun to my head they could force me to do any possible number of strange things in my own bathroom but you see, there's the kicker. Who the hell would care to do anything like that? It's a non issue. It's completely bizarre.

But here is a group of mothers, not a solo mother, but a unified group of mothers who feel so strongly about the life changing, earth shattering, horrendous heartbreak of boys peeing while sitting down that they couldn't just have a hearty chat over coffee - no, they feel compelled to take it public. They think the whole world needs to know about this terrible, awful, horrible thing.

Oh My God.

There are limitless things going on in our country today that are unrepresented wrongs, things that matter a hell of a lot. War, injustice, racism, homelessness, corruption, abuse, child prostitution and kidnapping, bribery, I can't list them all here. But trust me when I say that real people with real lives are getting really hurt by real things that are real problems. But all these people feel drawn to put out into the world is their message of hysterical warning against sitting down peeing.

Do they assume that after the age of Pampers Pull Ups that this problem will persist into adulthood? What exactly happens when big hairy men sit down to pee? Do their penises fall off? Do they grow breasts and wear tutus? What exactly is it, ladies, that you believe is worth interrupting the general public's semi-conscious stupor for, in delivering this heart felt cry of warning to the mothers of America?

Because you see, this is not a problem. This isn't even a subject. What it is, is a very sad public confession that as a group of mothers, you are so weak, helpless and ineffective as adults that you cannot even determine who will control your child's bathroom habits. Anyone beyond you has no say in this matter. How is it that you've given it to them and now believe they control your son's winkies?

I am not asking these questions because I care to hear the answers. I don't. I couldn't care any less than I do. Whatever perceived horror is at the other end of peeing sitting down is going to remain in your imaginative possession. I'm not going to bother looking into it because I already know that no matter what your fear is, it's a stooopid panty wad moronic ignoramus pile of horse doody. And there's enough of that floating around out here already, thanks anyway.

Mothers Against Peeing Sitting Down, get a life. Then take control of it. Because as you should have ascertained by now, if you don't control it someone else will. You've no one to blame but yourselves.

Now I'd like to take this opportunity to use this little rant space as a platform to expand on something. You see, I've become painfully aware of an entire class of people in our country, people much like the aforementioned mothers against peeing sitting down, who really get on my last nerve.

These people are so comfortable, so cozy, so well off, so free of any connection to the struggles of surviving in this cold hearted greedy money worshipping world of corruption and status and murderous bastards, that they haven't got a clue what it would feel like to not have every whim met immediately and consistently, and with the best of everything. They can't begin to guess what worrying about how to make the rent feels like. Every meal they eat is a square one, all of their socks match, and so does their furniture. Struggle, doing without, and hardship to them means something unrelated to survival. It amounts to minor inconvenience, the mental shock of which drives them to five star resorts to recuperate for six weeks.

There really are a class of people so pampered and spoiled, so far removed from inhaling the grit of a city street, that they can't even develop a notion in their minds of what it's like to be living a life of injustice, poverty, and hopelessness. These are the people who say things as stupid as our president's comment that went something like, "See, not all poor people are murderers!"

No one could have been more astonished at this revelation than the tens of millions of American poor who heard him say those words. What's frightening is picturing Barbara Bush and parlors full of others like her, trembling in their Italian made shoes, half hiding behind a door, shaking their heads and saying, "No George, no! It can't be true! How did you come to hear this thing?" They were all taken by surprise at this amazing revelation. Perhaps they now dote upon this man, this pioneer of wisdom, admiring his bravery at walking amongst the little people, those dirty poor violent murdering types. They see him as a cross between Einstein and Indiana Jones.

I just have such a hard time being patient with this group, and they are everywhere. There are plenty of people who live entire lives not only fully detached from reality, but completely unaware that it's missing. What on earth do these people do all day?

Half of me wants to weep, the other wants to rage, and if there were a third half it might be the one that knew what to do about it. But there is no third half, and there are no obvious paths here that would enable me to wake these people up in the way, for instance, that clanging together two garbage can lids outside their bedroom windows at 2 o'clock in the morning might do. These people offend me. They really do. And it's not surprising that the sorts of things that take these people to their psychiatrists offices are the sorts of things a world of humanity would give their eye teeth to have as a problem.

These people's troubles have nothing to do with reality. They're self inflicted fantasy problems, which I guess is all that's left to have when you have everything else. But it does offend me and I don't like being around people like these. It's like rubbing sand paper on my forehead, something that ticks me right off.

In case it needs to be said, don't ever bother me with requests to donate to Mother's Against Peeing Sitting Down. Don't bother sending me an invitation to the opera, or the ballet. Don't expect me to sit still for your story of rage and angst about how your tailor's office failed to have your fitted tux ready on time forcing you to have to wait twenty minutes and nearly miss your flight to your vacation home in Europe. Just, don't even speak to me.

There is nothing within these people that I can relate to, and that's really saying something because I can connect to most anyone. They only have to be real, and I'm right there. But these folks have nothing I can grab a hold of. You could cover them with velcro and I'd still slip off them like they were oily glass. I don't think there's anyone in there. It's all hollow inside. Who are these people? What is the point of their lives? What do they do when their loved ones die? Do they hold their hands or do they hire someone to do it for them? I just can't say, I don't get it.

I don't feel pity for them, not at all. What I do feel is sickened. Something is wrong with their minds and hearts, it's surreal and offensive and faraway. Oh wait, I get it, they're republicans. Never mind. I answered my own question. Thanks for letting me vent, it was very helpful.
They say the definition of consciousness is being self aware, but I disagree. The true definition of consciousness is being aware of others.
Until next time. Think Or Be Eaten.