Sunday, December 17, 2006

Shootin' the Finger at the World

Praise the Lard, the Freedom Tower's Movin' on Up
I woke up pissed this morning. Reverend Al Sharpton had led a march down Fifth Avenue yesterday—it was a very quite march—I couldn’t hear it from my apartment and it was just up on 34th. I did hear sirens all that time and helicopters were flying over my building all morning and then that afternoon. That's the cops, of course. You live in NYC long enough you get to where you can distinquish the different sirens. The cops are high squealing sirens. The cop helicopters are the loudest in terms of hovering noise. Looked like several thousand people were in the march to me. They walked silently. They were carrying signs, but they were marching silently, man, like in respect. But the F-ing teevee coverage, the white racist bastards, they kept introducing clips of the march with comments like, “Though billed as a peaceful demonstration, things got completely out of hand after the marchers's anger took control….” Then they show a beatnik-looking white man who is taunting a young rookie-looking cop, yelling, “You have murder on your hands, it’s as simple as that—you have this young man’s murder on your hands—hey, don’t you threaten me, don’t you threaten me!"--screaming the latter when the young rookie cop moved against this him with his nightstick readied in the “push ‘em back” position. This was a young white cop, but I noticed a lot of black cops were in the ring of cops that was herding the marchers down Fifth Avenue in a pen of steel fences. Then the teevee knuckleheads started saying, “Look at the confusion, the pushing, the shoving, in this march that was supposed to be peaceful.” It was nanner-nanner-nanner reporting; always on the side of the corporate police force over the ordinary but especially minority NYC citizen. In NYC now, by the bye, like L.A., the minorities may be the majority. You know, like, "OK, you people who think the cops are using too much force by firing 51 times on three young men, killing one, leaving one in critical condition and one in a wheelchair (he took 5 bullets in his legs--in the backseat of the car)--nanner, nanner, you see how these people are responding, like animals, like savages. I mean, that's why the cops have to fire 51 shots at three young BLACK men who were talking about having guns in the STRIP club they were partying at--partying heartily, it might be added--probably doing drugs since the cops were spotting the club because it was notorious as a BLACK drug and prostitution den, unlike the similar WHITE strip clubs all over New York City, nanner, nanner, nanner." And you look and they give you real close-up shots of people in the march who look like they’re cussing at each other because they’re being shoved up against each other and it looks like they can’t move because of their own stubborness to obey the "courteous" police who are trying to keep them moving along and their own let-loose anger, all seemingly directed toward the "gentle," "courteous," "serving" police. “Look at them trampling themselves in this chaos that when it started was supposed to be a peaceful march, a nonconfrontational march, and now look what it’s turned into. The disgrace.” Of course if you looked intelligently at these short scenes you couldn’t help but notice the confusion, the jamming, and the trampling was being caused by the ring of police that was imposing itself upon the marchers, pushing them in upon themselves. It's a police corraling tactic invented by our goombah mayor, Rudi Mussolini Guiliani’s police chief--he had so many, I can't remember under which chief this idea came to order. So by penning marchers inside these steel fences all linked together stretching from Central Park down Fifth to 34th and then driving wedges of policemen into the marchers they separate them into manageable groups—dig? Police are police no matter what country or what government or what political ism they represent. They are the protectors of THE LAW, not the people. They are enforcers, not protectors. They are like gangs themselves. A gang is simply a bunch of neighborhood dudes who can’t become policemen so they become gangsters. Dig that word: GANG-sters. It’s an old word and the hip hoppers are right to talk about posses and carrying six-shooters and .44s and the codes and shit like that because the word comes from the OLD WEST, the world of rugged individualism, which is what the hell all of this is all about. Our Constitution is all about INDIVIDUAL rights and all laws are made against individuals. This is what Georgie Porgie, our phony “president,” means when he says he has executive privilege over everybody since this is a time of His War—the War Against Terrerists--a time for tough individual leadership by a rugged individualist, a Great Decider, a man who takes his direction from the biggest daddy of us all, God himself, the most rugged individual there is in the human monkey world of fable and legend. The nation as a whole doesn’t get it, but individualists among the nation as a whole do get it—right now they represent about 35% of the country. These are rugged individualists who will stick with this “president” no matter what the hell he does—right or wrong, God first, then country, then self. These are the cops, too. And the cops are there to punish the public; to straighten it out; to show it that this is a nation of laws and all people are guilty of breaking laws and must be caught and made to pay. Cops, however, due to their allegiance, are on the side of the lawmakers; they protect the privileged, the rugged individualists that most of us admire, honor, and worship as the greatest among us, flim flammers like the Donald, Little Billy Gates, our little man billionaire mayor, Warren Buffett, the Bin Ladens--I guarantee you if Osama Bin Laden came to NYC, the cops would protect his ass. OK, he is a member of a family that is like asshole connected to the Bush family so he would deserve special protection and F the citizens of NYC.

Right now in the good ole USA, it’s definitely the rich versus the poor—the Monied Few versus the In-Debt many. When you get in debt to the monied few, you become their slaves. You are subject to their rules--the banks, the phone giants, the tax collectors, the loan sharks, insurance hustlers, industries that have their own laws and rules and regulations, all taxes stuck on your charges--check out your phone bill--I pay over $16.00 in taxes and surcharges on my phone bill every month, a phone bill that is a basic $25 a month fee, a phone bill that ends up after all the taxes, surcharges, line charges, wire fees right at $61 a month. That's $36 of extra charges on my phone bill. Amazing! Where does all that money go? Like those line charges and wire fees? Who gets that money and whoever gets it is it considered capital gains or is it hidden away in expense columns of some expansion project?

“It’s every man for himself.” And that’s the philosophy that motivates Amuricans from the time they enter their running-down school systems until they retire with no Social Security because G.W.B. has gotten us into such debt we are all now subject to the whims of foreign masters, mostly Commie Chinese, the Saud Family (which includes the Bin Ladens), and the British bankers. The New Plantation (within the New World Order) will be more of a hell of a place than anyone could have ever imagined. The New Plantation has replaced the Big House with the 50-story Luxury Hi-Rise. And Miss Ann? Well, let’s see, she’s a combination Martha Stewart and Judy Regan. Capitalism depends on slavery to continue piling up the profits, the Kobe steaks, the yachts, the golf club memberships and golf junkets, the extremely overlong limos, the bodyguards, the Airstream jets, the helicopters, the huge executive salaries, the trophy babes— and I assume women will be cropped out of the picture by the time the New Plantation is in full production. Who will the first Saudi Arabian be who takes over our government? Or will we be managed by some Commie Chinese social engineers? Or how about being bossed around by a British snob type, like old Queen "Where's My Scotch" Elizabeth. Cheap labor; that's what it's all about. Cheap labor and cheap goods. China polyesters over Egyptian cottons! The Euro dollar over the US dollar. [An Aside: How many more British accents must we endure on our television, on our radios, in our movies, in our music? A Brit, through American Idol is getting to decide who our future singing stars are—the Brit, and the washed up American former dancer-turned-singer [Paula is reportedly, from that young black guy she tried to help win American Idol, still hot as a firecracker in bed, or in front of the fireplace in her L.A. mansion], and an unknown black dude. at least I never the hell heard of him until Rupert Murdoch's crew dug him up—God, I get murderous ideas when I get involved in thinking about the realities that get fanned in our faces, like so much machinegun fire being fired at us—and enfilade of blowing us all down to a level of worship, having to bow to them and the power they have—the power to control our culture as well as our wealth. Like if you don't slave your ass off for a fool like Russell Crowe, he'll brain you with his cell phone, with impunity to boot, or at least he's rich enough he can buy his way out of trouble. Just like celebrities can be caught stoned out of their minds in possession of drugs and they never go to jail, or if they have to serve time it's in community service or a drop in to the Betty Ford Clinic (a jokey clinic in Palm F-ing Springs). Oh some of 'em do jail time; Bobby Blake and O.J. sat in jail a hell of a long time before an L.A. jury cut 'em free; but, come on, they beat raps I guarantee you you or I couldn't beat, unless you're a rich bastard, and I doubt it if you're reading this poor slob's crap. Was it Matthew Broderick who killed two people in Ireland driving his BMW while probably getting a distracting blowjob from his Hollywood honey at that time? He beat that rap. Hallie Berry, didn't she run some broad down and drive on? And recently, one of those worthless celebrity singing babes wrecked her supersports supercar because she was drunk as a lord or lady--what a pack of worthless hollow people we've made of our entertainers. How stupid with are with our worship. Billy Joel is drunk as a lord and rams his million-dollar sports car into a tree. That son of a bitch is still driving, I'll bet you. Or spoiled brat Lizzie Grubman backed her Mercedes SUV in a rage over 14 people, injuring several of them, almost killing several of them, and she beat that rap; got away with doing a few measly hours of community service; I'll bet she's still driving her SUV, too, what'a you wanna bet?

And oh God the ass-kissing praise the sports nuts were piling on Lamar Hunt today. That old sorry son of a bitch born out of the loins of H.L. Hunt, the bigamist, incestuous old hillbilly asshole who got rich off Arkansas oil--yep, El Dorado, Arkansas, is named for black gold and not AU gold--and that's the field old H.L. made his killing in before moving over to the East Texas fields where he made more millions of slant drilling and lease stealing, finally amassing the world's largest fortune and moving to Dallas where he built an exact replica of Mount Vernon on White Rock Lake and raised his family of natural and bastard children, including Lamar and Bunker Hunt, the Hunt Brothers. Remember when these fools tried to corner the silver market by buying up all the silver? Idiots. They lost their asses, but their old man left 'em a nice trust so they could waste a lot of money on following their egomaniacal egos. Lamar got into football in Dallas with the Dallas Texans, one of the worst pro football team ever made up of NFL has-beens and elders, like George Taliferro. Lamar then gave up on Dallas, moved the Texans to Kansas City and named them the Chiefs, after the redskins Lamar so admired--and he put them in his own football league, the American Football League. Poor little spoiled rich brats; they get to wallow in any fantasy they so desire whether it be to corner the silver market or own their own sports teams--Lamar was a sports nut, investing in tennis, soccer, roller derbies, who the hell knows. I heard them bragging how Lamar was in 7 sports halls of fame. The Hunt Brothers gave me the creeps; I grew up in Dallas; I was in Dallas the day Kennedy was assassinated. The first thing everybody in Dallas started thinking was that H.L. Hunt had gotten his wish, this Catholic Yankee smartass Haw-vard boy deserved to have his head blown off. You see, H.L. used to brag that he'd never been in a schoolhouse in his whole life; therefore, since he was the richest man in the world, who the hell needed an education. The school of oilfield skullduggery was good enough for old H.L. Hunt and the man who had his nose deep up H.L.'s asshole, his political voice, Dan Smoot, a rightwing numbskull who promoted a Fascist state daily on his H.L. Hunt and Hunt Foods radio show. So Lamar Hunt's dead; oh boo-hoo-hoo. There, now let's pass on to more vital things like the Brits and how American whites adore them.

The British seemed to have always influenced our economy since I was a curtainclimber—Keynesian economics under Roosevelt—then Margaret Thatcher influencing Ronnie Raygun, our president with Alzheimer’s, who really did prove that any idiot with enough money behind them can become president of these United Snakes and ruin the economy. The head of our National Security is a British citizen, John Negroponte, the son of a Greek shipping magnate--another spoiled brat rich man's son who never worked a day in his life and has lived a heavenly life off the hell workers on his dad's fleet of ships had to work their asses off keeping floating and bringing in the bales of drachma.

The Freedom Tower's On the March
And as I write this, the wealthy are making a big to do about the first steel beam that is ready to be put up down at Ground (to dust human beings) Zero—oh, sorry, what am I talking about, why it's the Freedom Tower now, the enormously foolish and outrageously expensive huge middle-finger-looking building our billionaire little-man mayor, old Governor Potato Head Pataki (who's also a spoiled rich kid from Peekskill, New York), the Port Authority bigshots, and all the real estate developers have forced on the citizens of the City of New York, the people who keep this city running by doing the shit work, the back-office long hours, the picking up of the enormous amounts of garbage the corporate world creates, or the tourist industry creates with its huge piles of rancid garbage that’s piled high nightly outside of restaurants, hotels, nightclubs—oh, the rats they are rejoicing.

This Freedom Tower is a joke you can’t laugh at. The final design THEY chose—I don’t remember anybody asking the people of New York City what they wanted in that place--was this truly ugly designless (mimimal design) tall finger of a building--just like your middle finger looks when you're shooting someone the bird.

First of all, back in the pits of history, to build that architecturally and structurally ugly World Trade Center, the city wiped out a beautiful old New York neighborhood—formerly called the Radio District because that’s where you used to go to buy radios and records. Then Nelson Rockefeller forced the World Trade Center on us, it starting off being a state office building, the Manhattan end of this huge mall Rocky built in his honor up in Albany, Empire Plaza, or whatever it’s called. Rocky also forced the Empire Subway Corp. on our asses, too; does anyone remember the Second Avenue Subway? It's long been written off the books as a disaster. It’s all about remembering, folks. That’s the problem with the Information Age; there’s tons of information out there and in all the languages and dialects and idiolectics of the world and the cosmos—too much F-ing information, too many answers and not enough questions. But, there’s a semblance of truth in every lie as they say so it may be like looking for a needle in a haystack but hell there’s truth in all this shit somewhere. Our jobs: Hunt for truth. Diogenes. And all the truthseekers from every ancient corner have said that hunting for truth may be the only reason for human existence. Socrates. Leonardo (“experience to experiment”). Galileo. Nicholas Tesla. Henry Miller. W.E.B. Dubois. John Cleland Holmes. Allen Ginsberg. Jesus X. Christ. Mohammad. Robert Ingersoll. Charles Darwin. Emma Goldman. Ah shit, I could go on forever—did I mention poor ole Joe Hill in my panel of truthseekers, or Philip Wylie, or Ray Charles, or Gil Scott Heron?

The Freedom Tower. In true wealthy gaudiness, old Potato Head and the little-man billionaire mayor are encouraging everyone to jump in their SUVs and ram their ways on down to Freedomland…or is that a Disney copyrighted word? Freedomville! Freedom Mall. Yep, you can go down there and sign that beam--Potato Head's already signed it. What stupidity! What assinine celebration!

The Capitalist Tower this Tower of Freedom should be called—or how about the Jesus X. Christ Tower? Why not build the damn thing in the image of Jesus, a big huge concrete Jesus, like the Brazilians have that big concrete Jesus looking over Rio—and oh what a great job that piece of junk has done for Rio—ah, the love and peace that abound in Rio!

The Freedom Tower, a big huge middle finger aimed at Mecca.

So who’ll be the tenants in the Freedom Tower, which I’m sure as hell won’t be free in terms of rent or cost to We the People? Oh, hell no. The Freedom Tower will make the Guiness Book of World Records before it’s finally paid for—though, like the New York State Thruway, it will never be paid for. Will it sit empty for a few years like the World Trade Center did?—you know, with these sleazy scumbags squabbling over who has the rights to run it or own it or lease it or make billions off of it, whatever the hell crooked scheme it takes to pull this much money together on one project, so much money that if each of the human sleazebags, and that includes the architect, reaches into the till and takes out say a couple’a extra million or so a piece, who the hell will miss it? The rich will get richer and the poor will be left holding the bag of bills and overwhelmed with higher rents and higher taxes and less services. Amen, brothers and sisters. Selah to you all.

How foolish are we both as individuals and as a society?

thegrowlingwolf
for The Daily Growler


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