Turning Japanese

A heart where my head used to be...

The Jean Genie

Farting in the Wind

Big shot and spokestool for the U.S Corporation, Secretary of State Clinton blurted this non-apology:

“We are condemning it (the burning of Korans) in the strongest possible terms, but we also believe that the violence must stop, and the hard work of trying to build a more peaceful, prosperous and secure Afghanistan must continue.”

Do you think maybe they are protesting against the murder and rape of their land by foreign "security" forces?

They have to say this delusional shit to appease the enablers (the American public.)

The Last Resort

The past speaks volumes to me as I contemplate modernity. I am in awe of the paths which have led us into the wasteland. Paths steamrollered into sameness and banality as humanity's "buzz" is getting harder to satiate. Blood and treasure seem to be all there is left for the fortunate few. Eventually, this bloodlust and greed will turn inward and devour even these "eaters of worlds" themselves.

Alternatives are not even being sought. Those who see the wreckage and attempt to enlighten are the "buzzkillers" and "crackpots" and they are dutifully ignored. The reality of our craven existence where war and poverty abound is so blatantly obvious by some that it has to be ignored by the many or we might have to believe in something like peace and equality instead of an invisible sky god who will reward us for our blind devotion. Religion is one of the opiates (the others being violence and money) which keeps the "buzz" going for many and the belief in salvation is the ace which binds them to an unthinking and uncaring mindset.

That's the way of the world and there appears to be nothing we can do about it. The ironic part is that a great many of my fellow travelers who sense that something is amiss will avoid the "buzzkill" because of the children they are raising. Tell me, dear maters and paters, when is it supposed to get better? What kind of world do you believe your children will grow old in? I have been intimate with the past and it bodes ill for a terrifyingly surreal future. The present encompasses both and is disgustingly meaningless.

There's a specter haunting this planet...

Another Brick in the Wall

Farting in the wind:

8 Young Afghans Killed in Strike, NATO Acknowledges

Brig. Gen. Lewis Boone, the NATO spokestool here, said ...

[the boys] “appeared to be carrying weapons and heading for nearby mountains. They were moving in open terrain in a tactical fashion and clearly keeping a distance from each other.”

This is not even an apology (which makes it worse.) This is the mentality of the paranoid military mind. I am sickened by acts (and justifications) like this.

Ball of Confusion

Laugh Tracks

The trail of the funny,
Meanders ever backwards.
In an infinite spiraling loop,
With interchangeable punches and lines.

Artificial sounds emanate,
Out of a plastic wasteland.
Humorless squeals, mocking surreal,
And the brightness dims on the watchers.

Noxious gasses; getting giddy,
A spike through Gaia's heart.
Serious smiles straining and selling,
Under grim furrowed brows.

Chest thumping love monkeys,
Shrieking for more.
With a merciless mocking and lust,
And empathetic indifference.

Screams, tears and maniacal laughter;
Hysterical rides and rails.
Gods write comedy and mortals cry,
Of a lost cause's humor found.

Enter the killing zone.

Where prey is canned and scanned.

Wrinkles in time,
Within frayed edges of impossible dreams.
Soulful, hopeful traces of irony,
Masked by tears shed at its passing.

Who Will Stop the Rain

Farting in the Wind

Marine Corps spokesfunctionary:

"the actions (pissing on the dead) portrayed are not consistent with our core values and are not indicative of the character of the Marines in our Corps."

Ask Smedley Butler about core values and then get back to me. Same song, different dance...

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/23/Universal_Newsreel_-_Gen._Butler_bares_%22plot%22_by_fascists.ogv

Empty Pages

My mind whirls with such frequency these days. Yet, I am gripped by an overwhelming madness that has been creeping steadily on my soul. This perception is so glimmering obvious to me that I can't find the precise words to express my tribulation without careening off into dimensions yet unfounded. Some would call this writer's block, but for me it is as if I took a gigantic "bong toke" of head-spinning pot and tried to fix a flat tire.

I inspect the wheel in question and scratch my head for a bit. Then I circle the vehicle three or four times for no other reason than to try to grasp the situation. Next, I open the trunk and pull out the crap that is covering the spare and I notice a book I hadn't read in years and proceed to sit on the bumper and read. After a few pages I become parched and go into my car and look for my water bottle, whereby I see the pile of trash that has been piling up in my back seat and think to myself, "I need to clean that up."

I now need a plastic bag to contain all the refuse so I go back to the trunk and remember I am supposed to be changing a tire. Needless to say, it will take me another 30 minutes to figure out what I am doing and finish the job.

I need to focus...