It ain't the Apocalypse--no god would shew himself on a day like this here in NYC; today, in the fabulous sense, this town is gonna belong to Old Ned himself, spiked hooves and all, freshly cleaned red body suit, pitchfork all nicely sharpened, ready to bring the party of Hell to my town...the teevee weather babes and grinning idiot teevee weather dudes--are predicting temps of right at 100 today in Central Park. Trouble is, the temp is gonna freeze around a 100 for the next unshuffling of Doppler knows how many days, enough that it's causing all the teevee celebrity heads to squench their faces all serious and start warning us about the dangers of hot weather. It's always the same old shit advice, like, drink plenty of liquids and stay cool, especially you horribly old people, who as far as we Accu-Weather folks are concerned can just flat fry--"We are really more concerned about people's pets." Their attitude is "We got air-conditioners, baby, so we give a shit about the rest of you poor slobs, you ditchdiggers, roofers, homeless, old F-ers, pearl divers, flim-flammers, ConEd workmen. Besides, if our air-conditioners go out, we can helicopter to the Hamptons where we have back-up generators, baby"...except I saw where it's gonna get up in the mid-nineties all the way out Long Island to Montauk. I have never been all the way out to Montauk--the rich have always hogged the Montauk area. I've been as far as Southampton; played a gig there once with a Long Island blues band. I didn't particularly care for the crowd; mostly Lizzie Grubman types, you know, run your ass down in a split second should you piss them off by getting in their self-important ways. Hey, Lizzie almost killed fourteen people and I think she served a couple'a days in a private room in some women's facility. I see today, they have Boy George out picking up garbage because Boy has a heroin habit and just can't seem to keep from getting caught with a hay bale of heroin on him, but he usually gets off pretty lightly and certainly is never subjected to the harsh Rockefeller Drug Laws in New York, which are there to round up tons of black guys and throw them by the gaggles into the state slammers for 25 to life. Guys like Boy George and and babes like Lizzie Grubman don't have to worry about the Rockefeller Drug Laws when they're caught doped up--not that Lizzie was doped up the night she almost killed 14 swingers out on the Hamptons party circuit. Billy Joel drives drunk and wrecks his Corvette in the process and nothing happens to him. Russell Crowe throws his cell phone and cracks a bellboy's head open and nothing happens to him--he's given an extra Academy Award for being a good citizen. Halle Berry runs her Beamer over a person and leaves the scene but nothing ever happened to her. Matthew Broderick killed two people in Ireland while tooling his Beamer wildly fast around the lovely Irish countryside looped a little to the gills--he had his hot Hollywood babe-of-the-moment with him, I think. They were excused and left to go on with their "marvelous" lives while the two slobs he killed are buried and long forgotten.
How about old Mel Gibson? that fop--with the passions of Christ boiling up in him (that's Christ spelled "b-o-u-r-b-o-n") he got caught trying to sneak his Beamer back home while under the influence of alcohol and who knows what else. Seems Mel got a little hostile and anti-Semetic when the friendly L.A. cops were hauling his ass in. However, unlike Rodney King, Mel did not get the normal nightstick beating other drunken fools usually get.
Mel's kissing heavy ass as I type this, apologizing in his best little-boy voice, sounding a little like the good Reverend Jimmy Swaggart apologizing tearfully sincerely after he got caught whacking off to ho's in a seedy New Orleans motel. [Praise the Lard, by the way, Jimmy's doin' just fine down there in superintellectual Baton Rouge, Lawsbanana; he's not raking in as many tax-free dollars as he used to, but, hell, he's still got his mansion, his town cars, his Rolex watch collection, and his seedy little homey wife, who I one time saw in person and kinds got the hots for. God, I hate confessing that. ]
I've worked in Hollywood; the dope flows expensively free out there, just as it does in NYC; just as it does in the District of Corrupton where the solons make merryment every night coming home looped to the gills and needing one of those "little red pills" to get to sleep and then a shot of B-12 the next morning along with their wake-up tumblers of breakfast bourbon or cognac. Recall recently when Congressman Patrick Kennedy drove his Beamer into a wall, staggering doped or drunk and saying he couldn't remember what happened that led up to his crashing into a wall. Nothing happened to Patrick; same as nothing happened to his famous drinking Uncle Teddy who accidentally, yes, killed a girl--both drunk as skunks; and nothing happened to his cousin William who in an Uncle-Teddy-like fun drunk raped that celebrity-hounding woman down at the Kennedy playground in West Palm. Ah what a life to be privileged.
In the meantime, Death rules all around the world, but it's especially thriving in Iraq and Afghanistan, and plus the considerate Israelis got some more revenge for those two stupid soldiers of theirs who got themselves kidnapped by the Hezbollah. Israel loves picking on the Hezbollah with one of the world's most well-equipped armies thanks to "you know who"--YOU, ME. One of their U.S.-made missiles, it is reported as I type this, blew apart 40 Palestinian women and their babies yesterday when there was supposed to be that famous truce that Condo-leasing Rice mangled while she was on a junket to that part of the world. Way to go, Israel; humanitarian mission accomplished. Jewish humans defended. Arab dogs DEAD. Oh don't you know how both the U.S. and Israel would love to use old Adolph's final solution on all Islamics? It's our god is bigger than your god bullshit and it will never end--ever. Such bullshit; when peace is so damn simple. Just turn your weapons into ploughshares and rebuild your nations on the Garden of Eden model. F money. Let's use unity as wealth--as in commonwealth.
thegrowlingwolf Sits Comfy but Panting in His Ovennish Digs
The temperature right now in the cool old city of New York is in the raging nineties; stuffy air, but F it, "bring it on," I've four fans blasting away and doing great jobs, man. I'm cool as a slightly soggy cucumber and think I could take it if it goes up to 105, which the gleeful excited teevee weather jocks are having a ball with by exclaiming "Temperatures COULD climb to 105 tomorrow in certain parts of the tri-state area"-- and they are warning about death from the heat every second or so; still trumpeting concern for the elderly and pets. Not much concern over any other class of folks. The best they can come up with statistically with their threatening "deaths from the heat wave" is around 150 and that includes so far over the whole damn country which is experiencing 100+ temperatures from the Pacific Coast all the way over to HERE and has been for several weeks now. No special reports about global warming, oh no. No explanations why gas prices just rose again at the pump, to over $3 a gallon steady now. I have seen the SUV drivers staying home; New York City streets are clogged as the normally are with SUVs and taxicabs. More people died from war TODAY than have died from the total extent of this current heat wave. They are still counting the DEAD in New Orleans from Katrina--do you remember New Orleans? A city in southern Louisiana, I think...wasn't it?
Flipped around the ordinary teevee dial and caught Geraldo; now there's a great specimen of mankind--he screwed Mrs. Jacob Javitts while poor old Jake was hidebound bolted into a wheelchair and being kept droolingly alive on a respirator--still Geraldo's one of our "top leading newsmen," at least according to him he is. Fox is still giving old Geraldo a chance. Remember when Geraldo was bragging about being addicted to sex? That's after his big "tell-all" book came out and made him enough money to gloat comfortably for another few years, this F-ing Puerto Rican boy from the Upper East Side of NYC who at one time, along with current teevee fat boys, Felipe Luciano (he found the Young Lords) and Pablo Guzman, were marching up and down First Avenue as the Young Lords back in the last days of the Vietnam protesting, late sixties. Hell, I think Felipe saw his brother shotgunned down. It's hard to believe those three gung-ho for freedom are now babbling the phony bullshit of network teevee as the way they make their fine livings--OFF THE MAN, baby, the MAN who continues to rule us no matter how heavy we protest.
Geraldo today started off by being pretty damn rough on the Hezbollah for "hiding behind the skirts of women," which would thereby justify Israel's blowing to pieces 40 women and children yesterday in an unprovoked missile attack on a southern Lebanon area; Hell, according to Geraldo, those women and children had Hezbollah terrorists hiding behind their skirts and soiled diapers and the Israelis weren't fooled by it, same as our gyrenes blew away grandmas, young girls, babies, and the crippled elderly in VietNam using the same excuse, "Hey, they got Cong grenades hidden in their pussies, even the baby girls."
Geraldo, you poor punky old publicitiy-seeking fool, the Palestinians are simply rebelling the same way you rebelled when you were a Young Lardass; they are rebelling against the oppressive nature of to them an occupying force that intruded into their homelands in 1947 under a UN charter put together by mostly the US and Britain, two countries that refused Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany during and at the end of WWII. Hypocrites! All F-ing hypocrites of the worst Machiavellian kind. "If taking power means killing your grandmother, then granny dies." That's their attitudes. When you possess so many weapons of mass destruction as Israel and the US, your desire to KILL is heightened to a pompous pious point, enhancing your thirst for blood and guts and scattered limbs and scattered eyeballs and brains soaring you way up and with boiling hate in your eyes allows you to aim your weapons of mass destruction at any target you deem a target, like right into the midst of a hospital, a school, a family neighborhood, directly on target and then BLOOOEY, 20-times the destruction of a Baghdad-style car bomb--one of them just took out another 20 or so in Baghdad as I type this. [Have you ever seen the actual figures of the number of Israelis over the years who have been killed by Arab terrorists [remember the Japanese terrorists that blew up Tel-Aviv Airport one year a long time ago?]. Horrible images of threatening Apocalypsical creatures dangle like lures in front of these warmongers's revengeful minds; justification for the eradication of a people builds in their war-hardened hypocritical hearts, and the fiendish urge to KILL MASSIVELY boils up in their fetid souls just like some mens's dicks get hard as rocks when they go over the top in a hopeless battle. Yep, folks, we am nat'rell-born KILLERS, just like all the other animals, and even some plants. NATURAL-BORN KILLERS UNITE TO KILL OR BE KILLED.
The killing of our youth in armies is ceremonial, don't you see?
How about some lines from Rimbaud's A Night in Hell--the last few lines:
I ought to have a special hell for my anger, a hell for my pride-- and
a hell for sex; a whole symphony of hells!
I am weary, I die. This is the grave and I'm turning into worms,
horror of horrors! Satan, you clown, you want to dissolve me with your
charms. Well, I want it. I want it! Stab me with a pitchfork, sprinkle
me with fire!
Ah! To return to life! To stare at our deformities. And this poison,
this eternally accursèd embrace! My weakness, and the world's cruelty!
My God, have pity, hide me, I can't control myself at all! I am
hidden, and I am not.
And as the Damned soul rises, so does the fire.
Seems like a hell of a great verse for an Ivesian-type song.
For The Daily Growler