...and why in the slam fucking hell when the first hints of a spider big enough to spin a world wide web were heard didn't the military unleash every tactical strike fighter at their disposal and hunt the beast into extinction?
There is no gravity. Just the universe trying like all hell to outrun the wave front of human stupidity, currently propagating at 32 ft per second per second in all directions.
reality.sys not found.
universe halted.
*bwaaayuank!* ...of course you are my bright little star, I've miles of files, pretty files, of your aforefarted fruits, and now to suit our great computes? You're... magnetic.. *swqueeeeeeeaaach* CALL NOW and for just FOUR easy payments of 19.95 you can own this magnificent mansion, but wait, there's more! Order with your major credit card and we'll include this beautiful blonde trophy wife genetically altered to give only the most tender loving of care to your absolutely perfect Harvard bound children, guaranteed to fuck you into a state of total mindless abandon every seventeen minu*tunktunktunk * AMEN BROTHERS AND SISTERS, I SAY AMEN AND DOWN WITH SIN, SAY IT WITH ME, DOWN *Wikibrubabrubabruba* Jesus loves you my brothers, he died for YOUR SINS and he died for MY SINS and *shreeeeashereashhhhh* we'll be right back to Elvis Presly starring in Viva Las Vegas after a short word from our *issssssisssssissssisssss*
Ladies and Gentlemen, The President of the...
Some days I really think I should take up drinking cheap whiskey for a living.
(with only a slight apology to the Moody Blues, they did mean well...)
(five years later, and so little has changed... so little. Originally published 2011)
Collections and Series Link Pages
Friday, October 28, 2016
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Denial... is not a river in Africa
I am not a poet,
don't frame me for the crime
even if my bastard words
sometimes try to rhyme…
I am not a poet,
far from that my friend
even if the story told
runs back to front again
like politician promises
when voting time begins.
I am not a poet,
more gearhead gunner freak
who has a heart of empathy
for what is on the street…
I am not a poet,
oh no, that's not I
just a rebel's heart to arms
when told to pass it by
leave the helpless on their own
to suffer slow and die
chained off to a sinking oar
by those who lives will buy.
I am not a poet,
such rank will ne'er be mine
commissioned by the graduates
of walls held square by vine…
I am not a poet,
there simply isn't time
to try and teach my soul to march
in even metered rhymes
I am just the partisan
who fights behind the lines.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Hillary Clinton, Donald Trump and the Great Door Buzzer Scandal...
Just eye candy and a bit of wishful thinking... |
Farcebook wanted to know what was on my mind. The answer? How the secret tendrils of politics
crawls into so many places to complicate and sometimes just plain fuck up
things that politics has no business being involved with.
Take cars for an example. I do cars, have for years. Being
born a poor boy it was learn how to mechanic or walk. I'm not so poor now, but
I still work on my own for the most part, hey, paying someone else to fix
something minor on your truck is kind of like paying someone else to give the
old lady a minor orgasm, you know? Just not very satisfying no matter how loud
or long she yodels.
Over the years automobiles have gotten a lot more
technically sophisticated. Cuss as I do I'll admit that a great deal of these
things are improvements, the metallurgy and the engine control systems. Yea,
you have to know what you're looking at and yea, you do need test gear to
really troubleshoot the systems, but... on the other hand you can go from the
bottom of death valley to the top of Pikes Peak and not have to change running
jets (and if you know what that means you might be *gasp* a geezer).
On the other hand I save some of my very favorite cuss words
for when I get involved with something where there's a fucking fifty dollar
module doing the exact same job that can be done with a bit of a cam and a
chunk of heavy wire, you know... the bells and whistles on the inside of the
car for those who think Honda is buying up all the American Virgins to keep the
volcano god of Technology living at their house. Somewhere in the last few days
it finally dawned on me how that happened, and folks... it is suck the dog
POLITICAL.
The oriental countries have come into their own making
electronic things. They, like every other industry in the modern world, have a
problem. If they build them to last as long as they could they won't sell
enough to stay in business. If they don't stay in business, well, THEIR
political parasites will be all over the map and OH MY GOD the residuals of the
totalitarian communist regimes might start creeping back in. So, of course they
engineer for a predictable failure rate just to keep sales up. Just common
sense.
But what is not common sense is allowing these same FOREIGN
companies to put money into the AMERICAN political scene to influence trade
agreements (aka laws that usually remain hidden from the public) in order to
assure themselves that the American politicians will lean on their industrial
buddies to use lots of what the Asian companies are making trying to make sure
the geyodamcommies don't have another chance at taking over southern bangkok
where the door buzzer widgets come from.
Now that's a bit of a mulligan stew of an exaggeration, but
then again, not really. Next time a politician supports something that looks
just totally dumb on the surface think it through again from the perspective of
the global perspective of the Corporate Neo-Fascists, they who want to finish
what Marx and Lennin started. It might just make a bit more sense to you.
Stay sane and starve a shrink... pass this around if it
makes sense to ya. Enjoy your day.
Saturday, October 1, 2016
High Amperage Plum Jerky...
==originally published October 2014== |
Say what? Plum
jerky? High Amperage? What in the whale does that mean? How do those words even end up in the same
sentence? The sixties produced a lot of strange
word friends, did they not? Of course
the translation is “Electric Prunes” and of course “The Electric Prunes” were a
proto art-rock band remembered for one fine effort in the genre, to be specific
the 1966 track I Had To Much to Dream (Last Night) dealing with the
consequences of exactly what the title says: allowing yourself to indulge to
excess in the realms of fantasy.
My name is Cyranos, and I’m a recovering dreamaholic. I’m here to tell you that yes, it is possible
to wake up with a hang-over from having to much to dream. The symptoms are not as severe as say to much
alcohol, and yet in some ways they’re more detrimental to your day. Things tend to go surrealistic on you,
reality doesn’t feel real at all, what should be simple bears the burden of
hidden complexity that teases just beyond the grasp of comprehension. The myths start creeping in, the legends and
the superstitions start making sense and the more sense they make the less
traction the day really has, it starts sliding on you as the sun gets low in
the west and if you’re not careful you’ll do it again, and again, and soon
enough you’ll be a dreamaholic like me who sees Gaia’s face in the clouds and wonders
why so often it happens that when you let your focus go soft you see the devil
reaching out of a beautiful woman’s eyes wanting a little piece of your soul...
take my word for it, it is entirely possible to have to much to dream.
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