Streams of Bloggishness


beginning and rebeginning, flashing up and into nothing, blue fire flickers the millennial tree exploding in blue fire while the flame of time licks lips to speaking of that which was, is, and will always be James Brown! Like our bodies, our feelings are also controlled by the robot, running on automatic pilot Mow naked! Sure enough. The split comes, and that motherfucker is going west. We've made the split, that Honda has just about cut me off someday i'll be a good little girl with a plastic smile, i promise, golly gee shucks! and i'll turn off the dark parts of my brain and i won't think and i won't think. and i won't cry over thinkful things but just broken nails and sad puppies and i won't think and i won't think.Mow Naked! Same old script, same old cast of characters; familiar, swarthy, moustachioed bad guy; simple, all American, cowboy, good guy; show down; high noon; staring each other down in the heat of the desert... In our own way, we are all tilting at windmills One hopes it's the president of course, though I've heard strong minority voices for Condi Rice, Rumsfeld, and Cheney. Whoever it is, I think they've confirmed my belief that the Administration has managed this crisis like a virtuoso. The Red Wine Negation Café. When I get my farm, I want to throw wild parties where we will run around naked and listen to James Brown and sit in unladylike positions while we drink our beer on the front porch at all hours. And Mow Naked! War is peacefreedom is slaveryignorance is strength what is happening in the world is a projection of what is happening inside each one of us; what we are, the world is. Connection reaches in and changes us. It picks us up and moves us – just like the music – to someplace we didn’t expect to be. And there we are. But where do the children play? If you wanna kill Rushdie, kill Rushdie. Poor Cat. Fuckin’ Coyote. Our minds contain a vast unused library of thoughts and ideas Sometimes when I look back I still see the severed head.. I think that everyone in Tie Rack ought to apply to the UK for political asylum, on the well justified grounds that they're probably going to get bombed. I think we might see a shift in Mr Blair's stance then. 'You want to bomb Tie Rack? But, George, it's a shop that sells ties!' 'That's what they want you to think, Tony'...No, you can't kill the devil with a gun or a sword. Our grief is not a cry for war. Mow naked! We accept the universe around us as stable and normal, when there is immense mystery and complexity and reality hidden from us by ignorance and habit. I don’t see heaven or saints or angels. I see people cashing in on every decent moral impulse and every human tragedy. Our moral authority comes not only from our conscience but from our actions. In our own way, we are all tilting at windmills... Do you think they have a big board on the wall in Seattle that lights up… and will George C. Scott be able to ward them off? Why settle for skyscrapers when you can have sky, shorts and a tee, when you can mow naked? Ithaca is traversed by waves, there is no place of safety to which Ulysses, each of us, any of us, might return to the source of the sirens’ song. Shhh, here she comes with her damn milking machine. Blue millennial flickers. Although I am a true believer in the power of the mind, today will not require its magic.

Words and quotes taken from:

Wood s lot,Mike Golby,Tracy 'Mow Naked' Swank,Whiskey River,Tom Bolton,Miranda,Human B Leever,George Partington, Frank Paynter, The Happy Tutor,David Lyttle,Pilgrim at Enthusiasm,Gary Turner,Loren Webster,Mike Porter,Tish, Jane Gault, Chris Locke,Rose McMahon



...

The Armed Geddons

The Armed Geddons are comin'
The Armed Geddons are comin'!!!!!
The Armed Geddons!!!

What? You're feverish. Something has gone to your head.
Perhaps you should lie down. And why are you wearing the flag?

THE ARMED GEDDONS...THE ARMED GEDDONS.
WE MUST ROOT THEM OUT. TO SAVE THE WORLD.
The bad guys! The bad guys! They want to destroy us.

You're dreaming, sir. Lie down...Lie down..you're feverish.

I WILL NOT LIE DOWN AND LET THEM DESTROY US.
I WILL DESTROY THEM FIRST. WE WILL BE THE ONLY ONES LEFT STANDIN'
THE ARMED GEDDONS WILL NOT....

Hey, I'm dizzy. Where am I? This is not the white house.
What's that??? A pearly gate?

No, Mr. Bush, I'm sorry...

Mr. Bush??? Salute me when you say that. And call me Mr. President, you insolent sorry dog of a speechwriter!

Cheney is now the president. He's being sworn in even as we speak....

WHAT????

Well, Mr. Bush, we are dead. There was an accident. You were showing off the new weapon--the smart gun--that would only kill the evil ones.....apparently, something went wrong....you destroyed the entire white house. Luckily, Cheney was hidden in a safe bunker. You killed me, too, sir.

Shit....We're dead.

Yes, sir.

Not the whole world?

No, sir.

Cheney will carry on your policies, sir.

Well, damn...where are we then?

At the gates of Heaven.

Ah.

We've been admitted, right.

Not yet.

But you've got the flag wrapped around. I'm sure they speak American English.
Maybe I'd better do the talking though. Here he comes.

GW Bush, Jr.

Yes, sir!

How do you acquit yourself?

I SAVED THE WORLD FROM THE ARMED GEDDONS.

Armed Geddons?

May I speak for him, sir?

Sure.

Armageddon. The end of the world.

Haaaaaaaaaaaa. Armageddon is the egotistical belief that the world can't go on without you.

Yes, sir.

GW Bush...how do you acquit yourself?

He was the leader of the free world, sir. As a matter of fact, he was such a leader...he never listened to anyone. He knew they would follow. He was going to create freedom for the entire world. And Peace for all.

The Bureaucrat at the Gate...shakes his head...

I've heard this one before. But it was fun while it lasted, eh George?
Do you really think this flag is enough?

Yes, sir.

End of the line.

The Bureaucrat shakes his head and wonders how many more?

In the distance an infectious plague gathers ground under the ankle.....just inches away from a powerful vein that pumps with an unknown vitality.

Support Enduring Freedom

Florida once again has been unable to tally just which candidate--Reno or McBride--has raised the most money.
Therefore, in order to avoid more embarrassing court cases (and allowing the lawyers to reap the benefits) several convicted ex-CEO's have come up with the perfect solution to decide the winner:

A Celebrity MudWrestling/Kickboxing Event

Vegas Odds are 3-1 on Reno at this juncture.

Mike Tyson will be the referree.

Tickets begin at $500.

$1,000 if you choose not to receive nude pictures of either Tonya Harding, Paula Jones, Janet Reno, Bill McBride or Mike Tyson.

All proceeds will go to fund Enduring Freedom.

This is no time for apathy.

Thank you for making this country the greatest that ever was.

The Risin'

How he managed to survive the Reagan years, I do not know.
Cast out on the street for lack of funding, this insane homeless man
worked the street; found a way to subsist on crumbs and light.
Buried long ago, and yet he saw it all.

Virgil came down with his stratocaster to guide us thru this hell. And perhaps lift our spirits high.

His guitar solo cried:

If not compassion, then what?
If not compassion, then what?
If not compassion, then what?
If not compassion, then what

And his eyes caught the eyes of the insane homeless man who saw it all.

What did you see?

A force greater than I.
A force that took over.
Incredible acts of bravery.
Counteracting such cowardice.
Evil being met head on.
Smoke.
Lots of smoke.
And some spirits, yes.

Risin'?

I couldn't tell. I think some.

What else did you see?

I saw grief, and tears and blood and bodies ripped to dust. Going underground.
Compassion, too. But not for all.

Not for all?

I see a wounded beast blindly crushin' whatever gets in its way.
Hatred. Power. Revenge. Fear.

Justice?

Not much. I see brave soldiers caught in the middle of two hostile, uncaring forces.
I see a choice in the road. I see evil in many faces.
It's not too late. Yet.

To root out evil?

To rise.

How?

Play your guitar once more.
Let it honor those that allied with something greater than themselves.
Let it fill the empty space with Towers greater than before.
Towers of Compassion open now on the whole world.
Let it blow away the complacency of comfort and insularity.
And lead the way to Compassion for all.

But not for evil?

Careful not to ally with evil. It comes in many faces.
Of which complacency is one.
It's not always clear cut.
And it seems evil wins here on earth.
It's our only chance.

For justice?

No, to rise.

And with that he went back underground. With the souls trapped down below.
Waitin.'

And the guitar did ring out once more:

If not compassion, then what?
If not compassion, then what?
If not compassion, then what?
If not compassion, then what
Is on the rise?

Or was their love in vain.

A Farmer and his Plow

Still tryin' to be a Haiku
You work of Epic proportions?
5-7-5 never did fit you.
Nor the 60-hour mirage for dignity.
And your free verse remains untouched.

Still tryin' to hide behind
The mirrors and weights of this world?
As if these scales could do you justice?
What buds cry out to be bloomed?
Have you never heard them?
And your free verse remains untouched.

I, too, have been blinded
By your striking physicality.
And both have been duped
By the Insanity
Of our magazine laws
Taking us from ourselves.
And hiding us from our free verse.

I dreamed I was a Farmer
With seeds and plow
Tryin' to grow a barren land
When out of the aridity
I furrowed down
And your holy waters
Did spout
Like the oil whales of Texas
Flowin' out
Your free verse.

And you are all.
And all is you.
The beginning.
The end.
The light and shadows.
In between.
Oh, to kneel
And taste these mysteries
On my tongue.

What gravity we give to mere feathers.
Your dream of perfection.
Mine of pure pleasure.
Only to further drift
Away from the source.
That is you.
That is I.
Flowin' untouched.
Our free verse.
Lost.

Still, I kneel
And if flesh really
Is the only thing real.
And mine but a dream
Of some other reality.
Then let us lose ourselves
With pride in this burn.
And wake the dead.
With burnin' flesh.
And think no more
of breaking free.
And with these seeds
I do wed.

The New Mythology
Meet the new gods.

















Potentus
The ruler of the gods; born of Hot Air and Fear of Impotentus; individuals and states who pray to this deity five times a day will be granted superiority over others.
















Moneybagus
This god rules the realm of Self-Respect and Self-Worth; praying to this deity will ensure Comfort, Security, Happiness and Marriage to Potentus; neglect this deity at your own risk.







Puppetus

Born of Ignorance and Wealth; praying to this deity will ensure that Money, Fame and Power will be achieved without the burden of hard work, skills, self-knowledge or ethics.

















Maximus Beauteous Gluteus

Born when Potentus breathed life into an inanimate Barbie; praying to this goddess will guarantee love, acceptance and happiness.


















Marketus
The messenger of the gods; praying to him and buying his products will lead to a happy fulfilled life