The Birth of the Cool

Contemplatin' the "Cool"
Recently in the Court of the One-Sided Affair I was accused through the glaring of rich chocolate eyes of being "the most uncool man" "she'd" ever known! She went on to tell the Court that this applied not only to me--you see, I'm a white wolf-man hybrid--but also to all of my kind, en todo el mundo, meaning all "white people," a term I am compelled by some innerpersonal (solar plexus) source to deny being a member of, though I am in the general use of the term--yes, I am white, and to white people that's White with a capital double "u"--but I don't want to be white, at least not white like the white people that are classified as "white people in general," those who are proud to be White people! That's classifying me and I don't want to be classified; I've never wanted to be classified--nobody outside of me knows me well enough to classify me as this or that. OK, I can't hide the fact my skin has no color--white people call my no color white, because to white people being white is so rare it's pure, and besides, God the maker of all white people is white because it sez in that big Hebrew novel some ancient Judean wrote that God made "man," dig it, in his own image! Must be one ugly morterforker that God! And that feo God made Man--that's Adam to us [Quick Aside: I just bought on eBay a sweet old Lester Young 78 rpm record--a shellack--and one side's a tune called "Up in Adam"--now that's a cool title, if you can dig on it]--but, whoaaa, I'm readin' ole Moses here and he's sayin', yeah, OK, God was just walking along one day, piddling around, and he started kicking at the dust in the road and contemplating, like how, fuck, why the hell was he all alone here on this fine plantation-like estate--you know, like, hell God got lonely, so he stopped in his tracks, bent down, picked up a handful of dirt, spit in it, and, WHAM-O, he made this creature out of dirt--Iraq dirt, right?--and he looked at it and he said, "Son of a bitch, that's the spittin' image of ME! And God only knows how I love myself--oh my God, should I give this darling little God-like man a penis? Oooo-gah!" I mean, just think if you were God and living all alone on your own artificial planet sailing off somewhere in a solar system no one's discovered yet and you got lonely and suddenly you realized you could spit in the dust and mold that into a living creature--wouldn't you make an image of yourself?--and wouldn't you love that image?--it's like cloning! Hey, God was a cloner! All alone on his own planet in his own solar system and he's lonely and lusting and so he creates a lover, a LOVER MAN! By the way, folks, do you know why OUR solar system is the Devil's solar system? 'Cause the earth goes around the sun in OUR solar system. In God's solar system, the sun goes around the earth. Check it out! Hey, maybe I've come upon something here. Hebrew is written backwards to the King's English, right? So could it be everything in this damn Hebrew novel is backwards, even all its meanings? Like the sun going around the earth bit. Turn it around backwards and it's correct. Wow, I'm a god-damn rabbi! Whoaaa...could I be the Messiah? I'd turn the job down. I don't care to be nailed spread-eagled on some old smelly railroad-tie cross just to save mankind! I ain't dying for that sorry mess I don't care how powerful I'll be one day--you know, that day when the clouds suddenly open and Big Daddy's Boy comes riding down on a big white horse (are there no Hummers in Heaven? "What. No Hummers in Heaven, then Hell, I don't wanna go there!")--and there's another problem I've got with the Hebrew novelist; is he implying that God causes clouds to form at his will?--on the other hand, if I were writing that novel I guess, hell yeah, God can cause a big huge bunch of white clouds to suddenly portal and give his Big Son's army of angels access to the spoils of the Devil's earth.

[Another totally irrelevant aside: I had a drummer named Angel one time; what a devil he was, too, especially with the ladies with the big thighs and big behinds--"big shiny stockings," Angel called them--and Count Basie did a hit called "Big Shiny Stockings" and John Lee Hooker did "Big Legged Woman" and I know a woman who has big shiny stockings and she's a very sexy lady--whoo boy is she--but let me get back on the track here.]

Besides, like I said, I don't wanna be the Jewish Messiah. I am not messianic at all; besides, too, there's no way I can trace my lineage back to lusty ole Judaic King David ("the beloved")--and what a man with the ladies old ex-sheepherder and flute player David was--I mean, his principles were, hell, go ahead and commit every god-damn sin and break every fuckin' commandment in Moses's library of stone tablets, God's gonna forgive your ass whatever--so, hell, go ahead and screw your own daughter, God don't give a damn--he'll just curse some Ethiopians into slavery to cast your sins on those poor folk who were born back in the cradle where apes turned into Lucy-like human beings (Pogo called them "human beans"), the antithesis of the "man" God made from the dust of his Heaven mixed with his spit, which must have been polluted the way men turned out. Question for God: Was the dick on Adam mainly for pissing purposes?

By the way, do you think Charlton Heston might really, really have been Moses, like he claimed when he was drunk? You know, surely you can imagine Moses returning in a holy spirit form and entering into Charlton Heston's body just so he could play himself in that movie about himself. Of course, it's too late to waterboard Charlton and get the solid truth out of him since he's definitely too lost these days among the many trees fallen or otherwise in the Forest of Alzheimer. Wonder if he still carries a loaded shotgun around with him? "Where's my shotgun, saith Moses?" "You're holding it in your hands, Mr. Heston," replies his 24/7 nurse. "Mister Heston? Who the hell is Mister Heston? I'm Moses, Daddy of the Jews, dammit." "Yessir, Moses, anything you say, Moses, just wish you wouldn't point that shotgun at me." "What shotgun, your highness?"

Enough pestering poor Charlton.

So I have suffered recently being accused of being "the most uncool white man" in the world. Wow. Does that include a total no-talent like Paulie Shore? You mean Elton John is cooler than I am? Or Carrot Top? Oh my God. "Where's my white horse, papa, I'm ready to move back to Nazareth."

I could have been cool. I was there kind'a when the modern cool was born right after WWII, a soon to be forgotten war like the Viet Nam War is now forgotten and the Persian Gulf War is pretty much forgotten and the Afghanistan War is pretty much forgotten (especially by the presidential candy-dates)--it is not, however, forgotten by the Afghanistan people who have nothing to do with the Taliban--and they had nothing to do with 9/11. No Afghan citizen had anything to do with 9/11; yet, Afghanistan must pay in human lives for the lies told by a pompous spoiled brat little rich asshole and his rotten sorry son of a bitch lyin' sidekick, Unka Dick Cheney, and the sleazebag sorry low-life cheatin' and lyin' Karl Rove (now a Fox news analyst--how is Fox (of Australia) allowed to keep broadcasting in the USA?--why does We the People's Federal Communications Commission allow them to keep their licenses?), and sorry sleazy Paul Bremmer, and outright thief Armand Chalabi, and Colon's Pal, too, that lyin' military gung-ho fool, and Her Fine Ass Condo-Leasing Rice, also a talespinning liar of the elitist kind (Condo's a true buppy)--all for the thrilling power these assholes illegally abuse and then turn their pompous noses up in the air as though they don't smell the rotting flesh of the hundreds of thousands of human beings these assholes have commanded to be slaughtered, killed at will, bombed at will, grabbed off the street and sent to foreign lands and tortured at will or imprisoned without hope of release or any kind of fair trial from the nation that claims its Justice is a woman and she's blind--or did Lyndie Englund tie that blindfold over her eyes? This nation that calls itself "the Land of the Free"--yeah sure; and Madame Clinton, too, should be held responsible for the killing of human beings her own commander in chief husband ordered during his reign--damn right he killed human beings in his intrusion into Bosnia--and now that mess is starting up again--Kosovo is Albanian and like the Kurds, everybody hates the Albanians, too)--and Slick Willie's leading military gung-ho asshole commander then was this chump Wesley Clark who once proudly admitted, "Hell yeah we'll kill civilians if they get in our way!" That's what pisses me off--why aren't Americans in the street with the hoes and rakes and ax handles and whatever, going down to the District of Corruption and citizens arresting these bastards, and, hell, let's handcuff Hillary, Obama, Ralph "Spoilsport" Nader, Mike Hucksterbee, Mitt the Mormon, Joel LIEberman, Cap'n "Shot Down" McCAIN (not Abel; unable, too), and old Snappy-Pappy Bush, Prince Bandar Bush, the whole Saudi Royal Family, the Dubai Royal Family, the Arab Emirates, them, too, while we're enforcing our Constitutional rights under the Bill of Rights (a document seldom ever if ever mentioned--I remember when a part of Dick Gregory's comedy act included reading the Preamble to the Bill of Rights--anybody here ever read it? It says if We the People find out our government is CORRUPT, we have the right to proceed to overthrow that government and kick the rascals out), and I say, throw all those Medieval motherfuckers into Guantanamo and start waterboarding their asses for the millions of Iraqis they displaced or killed, the thousands of Afghanistanis they killed or disrupted their lives possibly forever, and the thousands upon thousands of US troops that have either been killed or maimed for life or mentally impaired for life--all because of a never-honestly-elected, first-ever Supreme Court-appointed "president," little prick's revenge on our collective asses for callin' his wimpy old Pappy a Wimp when Pappy accidentally found himself president of these United Snakes! Remember that wimpy whiny voice saying, "Read my lips!" Remember when he upchucked on the Commie Chinese president that time when he had too much plum wine and got a bit wobbly? The biggest wimp of all turns out to be Pappy's little smirking prick son who's never done an honest thing in his life. The son of a bitch is a perpetual liar, except the world he was raised in and brought up in is a Gordonian knot of inextricable lies and these little snob sons and daughters of the rich and famous know it's all a farce, it's all play, how you act, your stage presence, your schtick--participating in a political farce, too, 'cause Huey Newton was right, "Everything's politics, even our food." And we weep and moan and knash our teeth when one of our wacko terrorist sons takes daddy's guns or guns he's bought from Moe the Friendly Gun Dealer (No Questions Asked) into a public place and starts blowing his fellow human drudges away--just spraying bullets towards everybody--hollering, "Yeah, come on, it's kill or be killed, you parental-guided fools!" And we cover ourselves with ashes wondering what is wrong with our youth! And we don't miss a damn beat, though, when we accidentally read or hear about 40 or 50 people being blown to bits in Baghdad or a car bomb killing one hundred mostly women and school children in Afghanistan. "When's American Idol on? I've gotta vote for that bald Asian-black girl from Iowa who sang the Barney song with so much soul." [Another aside: thedailygrowlerhousepianist sent us the Mother Jones site's listing of the Top Ten tunes our goons at Guantanamo use for sleep deprivation torture--you know, where the military torture creeps (like Colonel Flagg in the great old M.A.S.H. teevee show) play music outrageously loud in the cell blocks at night after lights out. Here's the Ma Jones link that lists this Torture Top Ten--it includes the Barney song just mentioned--check it out:

http://motherjones.com/news/featurex/2008/03/torture-playlist.html]

Whew, I've got to cool down, papa, or I'll blow my top.

I'll continue on this "cool" trip when I've cooled off a bit.

thegrowlingwolf
for The Daily Growler
Pogo ran for president in '56.