"Hmmm... Should I Stay or Should I Go?
“If I go there will be trouble. And if I stay it will be double.” So the song goes. There’s about 44 days before Chicken Shit McGrew and Shotgun Slim are set to sail into the sunset. Chicken Shit is probably thinking about punching cows because cows don’t have fists and can’t punch him back. Ole Shotgun is dreaming of aging lawyers levered off of skeet machines but… that can’t be enough for them, can it? Once you’ve gotten a taste for innocent, undefended blood it’s a hard jones to kick.
I can’t see them just packing it in and heading for
I know when their day comes, wherever they may be, those wraiths from the movie “Ghost” are going to be coming up out of the storm drains for a hundred miles around. It will look like one of those days on Lake Malawi when the mosquito clouds show up. Like the photographer, you don’t want to be too close to the action.
But will he stay or will he go? Will this demented Don Quixote and his naughty little Sancho Panza go away? 44 days and a wakeup, that’s what we got but don’t count on the wakeup. Now that Obama has loaded up the important slots with what would make his predecessor green with envy, he’s doing a brush overlay with reasonable people in places where it won’t interfere with business as usual. I’d have been a lot happier with Shinseki as Secretary of Defense but that’s probably something you would look for when defense was the intention. When your main objective is being offensive (in every sense) then you want the pieces to reflect an Obamanation.
Of course, you know what’s really going on in
♫ It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas. ♫ No it’s not. I think I speak for a lot of people; a great many of whom aren’t even around any more, when I say that a few public executions would make the day an embarrassment of riches. I warrant the photos would be a lot more popular than manger scenes and the videos would knock the youtube servers out of commission. I’d like to vote that the next time we start a religion that the main holiday be based on the deaths of some bad guys instead of the birth of one good guy. It’s clear to me that if we lived on some other planet in the solar system that Earth would be considered a malefic when it appeared in your chart. “I hate to tell you this but you’ve got a Saturn/Earth square in your eighth house.”
Where could I possibly be going with this? That’s a very good question. You see, every now and then I wake up feeling like Howard Beale and I want to run to my window and scream, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it any more.” But this isn’t a movie. This is real life and I would be the only person doing it. The days when Eldridge Cleaver could get away with saying the things he did are long gone and even though Mother Nature was kind to me, I couldn’t get away with wearing those pants he designed and expect anyone to be impressed with my passion. You’re all a bunch of sissies. That’s what I say. Even those of you who do get angry and pick up a gun just wind up shooting your relatives or co-workers or your boss. You never shoot the right people. If ten guys could do what they did in Mumbai- even though it damn well wasn’t ten guys- could you imagine what a thousand pissed off patriots could do?
What the hell is wrong with you people? Don’t you remember that, "The tree of liberty must occasionally be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots"? A pack of common thugs waltzed into your house and kicked you into the street. They kept your wife and your daughters though and I expect you know what’s happening to them right now. They boarded the place up and they’ve got spotlights up at night and some bought and paid for killers are patrolling the grounds. It’s not so bad yet though. You’ve got a little spot down by the railyard and a plastic sheet and some blankets. You can cook your food right in the can over the fire you made from the broken wood palettes and if you were smart you had the good sense to hitchhike south anyway. But here’s the kicker. These good old boys are gonna get bored sooner or later. They’re gonna get liquored up and grab their guns and go looking to bag some homeless ass.
You have to understand that it’s not enough for these people just to take everything you have. The real charge comes with humiliating you and shoving what little dignity you have down your throat while your companions wait their turn. I’m surprised they didn’t tie you up and let you watch them have their way with the women before they threw you out. It must have been an oversight. Yeah, they’re going to kill you but they want to have some sport first.
Something is wrong with the world. Something is very, very wrong. They just did another ‘bait and switch’ and you still don’t get it. You’re going to sit on your couch and watch TV while they empty the contents of the house into their vans. Then they’re going to take the couch so …you’ll sit on the floor. Then they’re going to take the TV. Then they’re going to boot you out of the house and then they’re going to arrest you for loitering.
44 days and counting… then comes the winter.
Brutal fucking murder by men in pinstriped suits; worse than murder, far worse, as they play with their food before they eat it and you envy and admire them. You can’t get your head around it. Obviously it is supposed to be this way or it wouldn’t be happening would it? You can’t grasp the concept of how these people can be so measured and dignified and know which fork to use and do so many bad things. It has to be someone else who is doing it. And who would that be? That would be someone just like you, only in worse shape… some sand nigger; some non-English speaking guy who can’t afford a car but has his own communications satellite orbiting the Earth.
You just keep watching your TV and listening to the things they tell you. You keep listening to the people who fucked things up beyond recognition and you listen to their solutions about how they’re going to make it all better again and tomorrow when you cash your unemployment check you can hoof it down to the convenience mart and buy that lottery ticket. Hey… you never know. Precisely… exactly… and maybe you never will.