OK, folks, you ready for a little lecture...first of all, let me introduce myself, I am your lecturer, thegrowlingwolf . What qualifies me to lecture you on this subject? I'm a natural-born intuitive thinker who kept my intelligence to myself all the way through "public and state" schooling to obtain a, check this out, Master's of Arts in Sociology Theory, and I could go on to say I only missed getting a Doctor of Philosophy degree by 7 hours and 7 years, though I was told by the dean of the American Studies doctorate program I was in that I would never pass my orals as long as he was dean so I might as well give up and venture off into the setting sun. Which I did. Next stop the University of New Mexico; archaeology. Dr. Frank Hibbert's Pre-Columbian Archaeology class. Not because I was horny to see chicks in bikinis, which a guy in front of me in the registration line told me why he was trying to get in the class, but because I thought surely it would be an easy chance for me to get an extra degree under my belt (my desire was to teach at the college graduate level so the more degrees the better). I had a Sociology background--and archaeologists work for certain branches of Sociology, like Anthropology, Linguistics, Cultural Anthropology, the sociology of human beings's past (we love to bury relics)...as close to a true HISTORY as we can get of what we are, who we are, where we come from, what the hell we're up to as we are now, and where the hell we think we are going. That latter being the big question that has hung up the whole god-damn world since human beings decided they were divine and had nothing to do with this planet but were the creation of a superhuman being alive as a real person in their evolved instincts. Ah, evolution, what a wonderful human science. Why I've always loved old Charles Darwin so much even though he was a fucking Brit.
I think I can stop spouting my qualifications as a professional raconteur (lecturer) and perhaps rabble-rouser (in the tradition of the old muckraking journalists, of which we have a tiny few) and get on with my show.
Single-payor healthcare? Let's all face the facts: it's the most humane and economical if anything else way to go and fuck the HMOs and the insurance companies and our already-in-place-since-world-war-two way of providing our citizens the best (remember in backward thinking "best" means "worst") healthcare in the world.
Will We the People of the USA ever get a single-payor healthcare system without an outright in-the-fucking-streets fight? The answer is NO.
Will We the People of the USA get anything resembling a single-payor healthcare system...say a gradual extension of our current successful and cost-effective Medicare system...you know, lowering the age limit from 65 to 55 at first, then lowering it to 45, etc.? The answer again is NO.
Will We the People of the USA get the same old system we had before not only not repaired and not reformed but now more brutal than ever, more expensive than ever, more restrictive than ever? The answer to this question, sadly, is YES! ABSOLUTELY!
Unless, like I said further above, we are ready to hit the streets with our axe handles, pitchforks, baseball bats, whatever it takes to march on the District of Corruption and throw the rascals out on their ears (read: asses) (and that includes tossing President Obama's ass out, too) there will be no healthcare reform of ANY kind. As Justin Wilson used to say, "That I'll gair-ron-tee y'all."
Besides, I'm sure nobody in this country except the rightwingers are ready to cause such disruption--besides nobody, except people with leisure time and money to waste, has the free time to do it anyway--besides, I don't think anybody really is all that worried as long as "it doesn't involve me." Besides, too, most people (especially people who live in New York City--
WARNING while I'm at this point: Rudi Guliani is going to run for NY Governor against the blind Black man, Gov. David Patterson, in the upcoming Governor's race. Rudi prides himself on being able to beat Blacks (he with racist glee beat poor old Mayor David "the Sweater" Dinkins using the race card and his loyal police force's brutality (though Rudi never gave those cops or the firemen contracts even) to whip David bad--though later Rudi couldn't beat Carpetbagger Hilary Clinton for that precious NY Senator seat she's milked all the way to almost-President and to a for-sure nice-paying job as Sec'y of State--think of the traveling and wining and dining Hilary's doing at our expense; while her hubby, Good Ole Never Done Nothin' Wrong Billy Jeff Clinton (the Liberals "greatest" president--what a joke) was out in Las Vegas celebrating his birthday by eating a $270 steak. First of all, somebody remind heart-attack Bill he shouldn't be eatin' red meat unless he wants to drop dead at the dinner table like Jerry Falwell did. Billy Jeff replied, "Hey, pilgrim, what a way to go, right? Besides as long as you people [We the People] are payin' for these, let's eat up--in fact, pretty gal, why don't you bring old Billy Jeff another one of those steaks--put it on the American taxpayer's bill--and maybe later up in my hotel room I'll show you my pecker."). Rudi uses black guys in black shades as body guards and to drive him around in his fleet of SUVs (I once saved an old lady's life on Madison at 50th when Rudi's black SUV caravan almost ran her down certainly breaking the speed limit amd running a light that had already changed to red--I hollered at them--I mean I grabbed the old lady just in time or she'd a been street meat--but they sped on their merry privileged way--I believe, just like a king used to run peasants down with his carriage, so can a haughty mayor who thinks he's an Italian god run your ass down with impunity), but that's about it for his relationship with Blacks.
Rudi's White's-Always-Right constituents feel all Blacks are lazy, petty criminals, out to kill White people; they see most political Blacks as "Social Welfare" Socialists looking for handouts and concessions from successful White people or just out-and-out immoral savages, like that Jefferson dude down in New Orleans who the FBI found 90,000 smackers in his fridge's freezer; even though Rudi Guliani got away with several million in his 9/11 Emergency package from which no 9/11 survivor or widow or widower or left-behind child got a dime, which he probably has hidden in an offshore bank account, probably in the Cayman Islands.
Thanks to rightwinger scare tactics, most Amuricans are subconsciously scared shitless of an all-out attack on the USA...it's been imprinted on their little brains since they were public-school nitwits--especially an attack on the USA by HEATHENS, which definitely our Muslims worldwide, even our own US citizens who are Muslims, are considered by the WHITE ruling forces and their enforcers (the city and state police forces; the National Guards; the US Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines, and Coast Guard; the White-ruled court system; the White-invented and ruled CIA, the FBI (the invention of a crossdressing, in-the-closet, gay cop)--heathens meaning "those who aren't White and don't believe in Jesus Christ and the Christian Holy Big Daddy, Jehovah, Yaweh, Allah [they all mean the same]," and that also includes White Atheists, Gays, and Lesbians. All are TRAITORS to the American Way--especially the foreigners. To be allowed by the Great White Fathers of this country to come into this country as foreigners, to come unto this Land of the Free (Free, White, and 21, Unless You Are a White Woman) and Home of the Brave (the Brave White Men), what a privilege and honor. The Great White Fathers allowing you, a foreigner--a 'savage' maybe--into this country expect the following: they expect you to show your respect for the great kindness of White People, first of all, by learning to speak English as quickly as is humanly possible (English being the White Royal language); then by flinging off your native dress no matter how functional it as as clothing and adopting the wearing of "Western" clothes--all tight and restrictive; then by learning how to what White people call "amalgamate"--you know, allow your foreign self to be thrown into the White Man's mixing bowl to be converted into a REAL Amurican (or almost a real Amurican--unless you can turn white in the process). As a Real American you are now considered FREE... (well, again almost), White (and again, almost), and the ruling Whites hope you will be BRAVE like White Amuricans are when you are called upon to defend this your new country and your new identity. Why, you may be asked to take up arms against your own back-home people! However, even as a new American, you're still lower than your new White brothers and sisters, and you shouldn't ever forget that. Our police-state security folks might even think you may be becoming an Amurican citizen just to commit a terrorist act against We the White People of the USA. Do you think if those 21 mostly Saudi drunks had crashed those big gas-guzzling airliners down in the South Bronx there'd a been as big a hooey about it as is going on now over their bringing down the World Trade Center (symbol of American world domination)? Hell no. Those bastard A-rabb sons-a-bitches blew up our Towers of Capitalistic Majesty down in that sacred area we worship as Wall Street (named for a wall built by the occupying wealth-stealing Dutch to keep the also-land-and-wealth-greedy Brits out. And those Towers of Capitalist Majesty were built at an enormous (overbudget) (overestimated) billions of dollars in state and city tax monies--ordered built by spoiled brat rich boy Nelson Rockefeller and rendered in design by a Japanese architect (who eventually excused himself out of the job saying the construction company was using cost-cutting cheaper materials than his design demanded, especially structural materials--this is where contractors cut cost by using second grades of steel and concrete, etc.) to come out looking like two long slender bluish packages, like boxes of toothpaste on end and zooming up 110 stories--and housing a CIA databank of illegally "grabbed" data on each and every "suspect" (which is us all) they had their evil eyes on; also the home of Mayor Rudi Guliani's secret bunker that cost the taxpayers of New York State and the City of New York 4o million dollars; and also a huge deposit of Federal gold. (Ada Huxtable called the resulting buildings one of the ugliest pair of buildings ever built.) The moral of this 'round-the-barn aside: "If you're White, you're right; if you aren't White, you're not right."
A lot of the Power Elite in this country made their wealth off insurance, admittedly one of the crookedest industries in the world. Insurance is extortion. A man comes to your door and starts badgering you with questions: "What are you going to do should you die tomorrow? What is your wife and that charming little animal-looking boy over there going to do if you drop dead tomorrow?" "I'll suppose I'll have to go on working as usual," is what my mother would have said to that question. To which the insurance salesman might have returned, "But, Lady, work or not, wouldn't you like to reap some extra change should your worthless husband perish, God forbid. A little nest egg for you when he's out of the picture..." [and one of the insurance companies's commercials on teevee shows a family gaily trotting along holding hands and then the father suddenly fades out of the picture (the "perfect" American White family, by the way, is a successful father, a pretty blond-and-blue-eyed (doting wife) perpetually young mother, and a toehead boy wearing a soccer shirt and a little blond-blue-eyed girl wearing her little bikini she's going to wear in the beauty pageant later that night, all holding hands and skipping along merrily being real GOOD and obedient Amuricans] "...and, dear sweet lady, you can have this 'protection' for only one dollar-and-50-cents-a-month, payable to the Conglomerate Giant Insurance Company of America and Communist China?"
DEATH! That's the insurance agent's hole card. What if the MALE dies? What is the helpless little woman and the worthless offspring going to do to survive? That's how insurance people think--"How can we scare these peasant jerks into buying more and more of our life insurance policies?...and, hey, you guys in creative services, how about coming up with some schemes where we can get people scared of suddenly having a heart attack...or GETTING CANCER! At the same time, let's invest in the tobacco industry, the processed foods industry, the construction business, loan sharking, and pharmaceutical drugs. And, hey, how about this idea I see one of us is calling 'the hospital management organization' scheme? Hmmmm, let's just call 'em HMOs...hmmmm, with a tagline, 'Pay or Die.' God I love that idea!"
Watch the insurance company commercials on teevee--they're all over the place, not only the one with the father fading out of the family picture, but all the others, too--all of them are trying to scare you to death. The Traveler's little Brit fop dude with the umbrella goes about rescuing kids stranded in rainstorms or pulling a drowning man to safety while floating by Mary Poppins-style on his umbrella. Insurance as magic. The Hartford has a Stag at Bay looking out for danger--a human being out hunting, I presume--standing animal strong against anything that might beset you and threaten your life. Aetna's named after a volcano--you never know when life is going to blow up in your face--you need some casualty insurance. And then you need automobile insurance. And then you need home insurance and fire insurance and flood insurance and accident insurance and betting-on-your-life-expectancy insurance (annuities) and Acts of God insurance and malpractice insurance...oh what a wonderful game we are playing with the lives of people.
Selling insurance is just a job; about as bad a job as having to sell used cars--or new cars these days. (I keep asking, I'm sorry, but why are We the People bailing out the car industry? And why are we now subsidizing car dealers, some of which have been abandoned by GM, Chrysler, and Ford, with this cash for clunkers bullshit? Why isn't there a cash for saving us from foreclosures? Why isn't there cash for rebuilding the homes native New Orleanians now scattered across the USA lost in Katrina? [Good ole boy, Billy Jeff Clinton and his best pal old G.W.H. "Pappy" Bush raised more money to help the tsunami victims in SE Asia than has ever been raised to help our own precious New Orleanians--thousands (mostly Blacks and poor White Trash) of whom are still after all these years living in FEMA trailers. And look at how the insurance companies "bailed out" of paying out claims down there--coming up with all kinds of fine-print exceptions to keep from covering any of those claims--"Oh, sorry, you don't have flood insurance...you have wind insurance...and though you say your house was blown away...and we see it is two blocks away from where it was...still we deem your house was destroyed by flood waters...it was whole when the wind blew it those two blocks...so, you see, you don't have flood insurance, so, sorry, you're left holding the bag...besides, my banker pal here is foreclosing on you anyway for mortgage payments you've missed since the storm, which, by the way, according to our claims department, wasn't that bad a 'hurricane' after all."]
Since the Power Elite considers most of the people in the world peasants (and they are right, most of the people of the world are peasants (or pissants as the PE call 'em over cigars and brandy), they're not concerned with you and your petty, to them, problems. They believe like G.W. Bush taught us that if you're poor, too fucking bad, it's your fault, so the solution is to get off your lazy poor ass and pull yourself up by your bootstraps. You've got to remember right here (and this is a part of the healthcare reform scheme) how the whole idea of Paul Wolfowitz's (via Leo Strauss and Milton Friedman) Neo-Con economics was to drive this country's economy down to that of a Third World nation. So getting these goons to give back some of that wealth they've stolen from us is impossible (without a revolution)--and they have stolen all the wealth they claim--trust me--even Bill Gates, some argue, stole his operating system from that small Seattle firm.
----------------------From C. Wright Mills, The Power Elite (1956)--------------------------
The men of the higher circles are not representative men; their high position is not a result of moral virtue; their fabulous success is not firmly connected with meritorious ability. Those who sit in the seats of the high and the mighty are selected and formed by the means of power, the sources of wealth, the mechanics of celebrity, which prevail in their society. They are not men selected and formed by a civil service that is linked with the world of knowledge and sensibility. They are not men shaped by nationally responsible parties that debate openly and clearly the issues this nation now so unintelligently confronts. They are not men held in responsible check by a plurality of voluntary associations which connect debating publics with the pinnacles of decision. Commanders of power unequaled in human history, they have succeeded within the American system of organized irresponsibility.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Wipe out the Middle-Class (the achieving class one could say) in this country and what do you have left: "Them that have and them that don't have." The "Haves" and the "Have Nots." The "Rich" and the "Poor." He with the most money rules! He with the most money must keep the most money, because since money rules, without money you have no rule. It's been this way since this White Nation was founded and declared an independent nation by a bunch of outcast White religious nuts and a bunch of big-bellied White front men looking for lands and wealth to steal, a wealth and status eventually gained through the use of slave labor--or indentured servitude labor--or imprisoned labor--low-cost labor. Remember, and we all tend to forget this over and over again, the whole idea of the Republican economic program (the Neo-Con way) is "cheap labor." This is also the economic program of the Dumbocrats, too, since, it turns out, old Ralph "Spoilsport" Nader was right, there isn't enough difference in our two parties to matter much which one of them is in power. The Middle-Class is the class that drains money out of the Power Elite's bank accounts, foundations, off-shore bank accounts; certainly the Power Elite wants to eliminate the Middle-Class. How do you do that? You cut jobs drastically. In fact, you do all you can to shut down US factories and industries; to transport them to Third World countries where there is CHEAP LABOR!
At one time, and not that many years ago, General Motors was the largest corporation in the world and was making profits hand over fist. Today, GM is being bailed out by We the (Broke) People of the USA. Now Exxon-Mobil is the largest profiteering company in the world. Now ask yourself, how did Exxon and Mobil (both former Standard Oil Companies--the very same oil companies that were once declared monopolies and busted up by phony progressive Teddy "Carry a Big Stick" Roosevelt (an Aristocrat) back in his days of fighting with John D. "Cheap" Rockefeller) convince We the People that they needed to merge a few years back? Why by saying they were both on the skids and would go belly up individually if they could not merge. Why is merging so important to these people? Mergers were the means the corporate world (the New World Order (yes, Brother Whacky Jack Van Impe is absolutely right about the New World Order)) had in setting up this virtual Global Marketplace we now live under back in the 1980s, starting it with the slogan "Bridging the Gap," the Gap being the oceans and landspace separating the US from other world economies. By bridging that gap and merging with European corporations our nationally chartered corporations became what they called "World Organizations." They then began informing the world that as world organizations, they were no longer subject to national laws of any kind or any governments that kept an industry having to obey national laws in terms of tariffs and taxes and fair trade--hindrances to achieving a Global Marketplace. The Global Marketplace is a corporate state that ignores the laws of nations and follows laws of its own making and enforcing--thus under Billy Jeff Clinton, the Global Marketplace boys got their two big wishes, deregulation in terms of national overseeing and customs enforcement and open borders in terms of trade and trade negotiations. Worse than NAFTA, Bill Clinton gave us GAAT and GAP, former accounting methods, and gave control of our trade affairs over to the World Trade Organization, which the US totally runs, same as we run the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank (of which Paul Wolfowitz was once the head--of which recently finally dead Robert McNamara also once headed). What Bill Clinton did as President was give our government over to the corporations who are the Global Marketplace. Remember quickly right here that Capitalism was invented by British economists--Britain that had no natural resources, unless you consider peat moss a national resource, so they hit the seas, along with the other European dominaters, to go about stealing wealth from savages who could not protect themselves from these gun-toting highway robbers. Along with the stolen wealth (the gold and silver), also came the luxuries that go along with getting rich, like tea, and spices, and SLAVES! Britain stole its economy--and hell yes it was easy to make profits in those days. And, yes, it enabled the Brit Power Elite to create the Industrial Revolution. And as the old song sang, "And that was the cause of it all." Ever since the Industrial Revolution and the coming to power of the old British high-seas pirate class now in the form of the Industrialist! PROGRESS was invented by the Power Elite. Therefore, thinking backwards like they do, PROGRESS is dependent upon PROFITS which are dependent upon WHAT?--come on, you know the answer: CHEAP LABOR.
The Power Elite feel this way about single-payor healthcare: Fuck it. They control the industry through management, therefore they call the shots, not doctors and certainly not the sick or the healthy. People either play the healthcare game their way, or fuck 'em, they can fuckin' die. These birds can shut down all our hospitals if they so wish. Think of that; HMOs own the hospitals; HMOs can shut them down if they're not profitable. Where are most hospitals not profitable? Come on, the answer's obvious if you're Black or Latino or poor Asian and hopefully on the tip of your tongue if you're White: in poor neighborhoods and communities, of course! The Power Elite could care less if the US has a cost-efficient single-payor healthcare system--they could still make millions off it, like they do stealing from Medicare--but, you see, that's not the point. The power is the point.
This depression we're in, and President Obama keeps telling us we're not in a depression but a "normal" recession (like the stock market correcting itself), doesn't hurt the Power Elite. Look at the Kennedys. They made money during the Great Depression--old Joe went to Hollywood and then got into a government-supported diplomat job (he was Ambassador to England--and he was as crooked-as-a-snake-at-night as Ambassador to England...and during WWII!) Wow, how much richer these boneheads got the broker the rest of us got! While we were in the streets selling pencils and apples and used vermin-infested clothing, Joe Kennedy was fucking movie starlets and wining and dining with Sir Winnie and all those Brit poofs big time. Old Bootlegger Joe, a shanty Irishman from Backbay Boston, making it big on the world stage--a man of great Power who spurted his holy seeds into his holier-than-thou, prudish, Catholic convent-schooled woman-wife babymaker--keeping Sweet Mama Rose knocked up and out of action while he was boffing and paying for abortions as if the world owed his ass and his holy family a living--those holy seeds producing his three great holy sons, Joe the Holy Airman, JFK the Holy PT-boat commander, and Bobby, the Holy all-American Harvard lawyer (old Bobby they now say was boffing Jackie O behind his brother's bad back (and we now know why JFK had a bad back)). One problem old Bootlegger Joe Kennedy had with his holy seeds--one miscreant seed won the race up Mama Rose's fallopian tubes to hit her eggs dead on--a miscreant seed that produced a miscreant daughter, Rosemary. Old Joe was so frustrated by producing a "retard" that he took poor little backward Rosemary and had her lobotomized! She came out scary worse than she went in. As Mama Rose so sweetly put it, "It did calm her down, thank God, but it did leave her a little physically impaired." Bootlegger Joe's other daughter, Eunice, turned out fine, grew up to be a de(butt)ante and married into wealth, the Shriver family, gave birth to a very successful newswoman daughter who married the now Governor of Cally-forn-y-yah, the son of a Nazi police chief, Arnie "the Gropper" Schwarzenegger--the old "Pumping Iron" star, pumped up with steroids, who before that was, as he said, a successful bricklayer. [Here's a little irony: the same people who a few years back were wanting to change the Constitution so that Arnie the Nazi Father's son could be President of the USA are now claiming President Obama is not a natural born citizen of the USA--he was born in KENYA and not Hawaii as his official birth certificate says, so therefore he should be impeached.] Old Eunice felt so ashamed of what her father had done to Rosemary, she founded the Special Olympics, a guilt-trip solution that got her high praise from her Power Elite admirers, praise to the point where she became only the second living human being to get her bust on a US coin, the Special Olympics commemorative dollar which our "broke" mint issues on behalf of lobbyist groups in an effort to sell them to collectors at overblown prices! Alas, Eunice kicked the bucket a few days back. She died with a smile on her face, though you couldn't tell her face was so wrinkled.
[By the bye, I just wanna say here, that while old Pete Seegar, and yes you gotta love old Pete, was being ballyhooed to high heaven at his Madison-SQUARE-Garden 92nd birthday bash, a dude named Mike Seegar [Mike Seeger, as thewomantrumpetplayer corrected me--I love women correcting me] died at age 75. As I watched Pete's birthday bash, with old Bruce Sprungsteen, sweet uncritizable Joan Baez, Arlo(w) Guthrie--all fat and chubby still living off the royalties of "Alice's Restaurant" (a one-hit wonder), and a bunch of old has-been folkies redid their old hits over and over, I wondered, 'Where the hell is Mike Seeger? Why isn't he there?" The answer: Mike Seeger was Pete's half-brother. They didn't have much to do with each other during life. I've often heard it said in folky circles that Mike Seegar was a better singer and a better instrumentalist than Pete. Mike started the New City Ramblers [The New Lost City Ramblers: again, thewomantrumpetplayer corrected me; I'm ecstatic], in case most Americans have no idea who Mike Seeger was.]
Backward thinking rules today, folks. Get used to it. There's even more and more worse coming. Poor old President Obama. I feel sorry for him. Wanting to be the Great Compromiser; the President who was going to UNITE the country the way Abraham Lincoln "united" it...and the way Ronald "Tokyo in 3 Hours" Reagan "united" us against the Roosevelt Socialists and the Rooshun Commies! Ah, the Great Reagan. A Grade B actor, second banana to a monkey in his greatest film, lauded by the Yahoos now as one of our greatest-ever Presidents, the Great Communicator. "Mister Gooberchef, tear down that wall." And the wall came tumblin' down! Wahoo, Ronnie Reagan! Ronnie Reagan who in his last term as president kept looking up dumbfounded and asking, "Mommy, what am I doing here behind this desk in this Oval Office? Oh...mommy, mommy, look jelly beans!"
Chaos is such fun...FOR ME!
for The Daily Growler
We of the The Daily Growler do thank a recent commenter for his comment of praise for a post we ran called "The Notebooks of a Carnival Monkey, ETC." [We have discovered this is not the post he commented on--it was a post on how all the wars the US has ever participated in were based on lies--sorry, but we're republishing the Carnival Monkey post anyway.] We also are puzzled same as he as to why such a post didn't glean more comments--it was written so well and informing.... Hey, we're one among millions--one comment to us is like 20 or 30 to the "mainstream" preaching-to-the-choir bloggers.
for The Daily Growler
And for Your Reading Entertainment, Here Is The "Carnival Monkey" Post:
Monday, January 19, 2009The Notebooks of a Carnival Monkey
Just danced my little ass off for a mousy looking human woman and her skaggy looking child. I was told it was the human big-star, Madonna. She's got a spare tire around her middle--big thighs, too--and she looked like she was flopping when she was so egotistically dancing to the little organ I grind while I'm dancing. I outdanced her ass. She threw god-damn fifteen cents in pennies in my cup. "Bitch!" I screamed, but she didn't understand my dialect.
Britney Spears booked me and Benny the Chinner for a private party at one of her fabby digs. Professor Glenn drove us there in his new Ford. He was bragging all the way to Miss Spears fabby house how he hornswaggled the Ford dealer down to 50% off the original price. "Plus, the broke son of a bitch threw in Satellite radio and 4 Bose speakers. They're desperate, I tell ya, desperate."
We got to Britney's fabby house around one pm. "Pool Party" it said on a sign hanging over the front door. "Follow the Arrows." So we followed the arrows around through a side gate and came out into this huge back area with this huge kidney-shaped swimming pool--hey, I got kidneys just like yours, humans--I piss just like you do, pals! My old lady fucks just like yours does, macho human males. Anyway, Britney had the pool area set up like a carnival. Clowns everywhere. God, I hate clowns. Especially those balloon-animal-making bastards. Kids'll fall for anything wearing a bulbous red nose and flappy shoes. I checked my little outfit in a glass sliding door that led into Britney's fabby house. I looked pretty good. My military jacket looked spiffy as hell. My fez was snappy. Damn, I looked good. And I'd written some new tunes for my little organ, so I was ready to kick some carnival ass.
Professor Glenn then said, "Noodles, you go on after Mr. Po the Lice Man." God, not Mr. Po, that sleazy bastard. A lice act. Who the hell can even see a lice act? Lice drive me instinctually bananas. I mean, come on, groomin's one of my drives; I see lice, I wanna pick 'em up and eat 'em. I ate a hundred lice one time--almost put old Po out of business. And Noodles! God I hate Noodles! He's a poodle who walks a high wire and walks like a human on his hind legs while he balances a couple'a balls on his nose. He looks stupid as hell. I can walk like a human. Hell, I can think like a human. I can understand human speech. Yakity. Yakity. Yakity. "Who's after Mr. Po, Boss?" I asked Professor Glenn. "Britney says she doesn't care for a monkey act." "Whaaa! Then what the hell am I doing here?" "Sorry, Little Joe, but that's Miss Spears's request. She says she's in a nonmonkey mood right now." "Bitch. Can I talk to her?" "Shit, Little Joe, humans can't understand you. You sound like you're mocking humans when you try and jabber with them." "How come you can understand me?" "I taught you everything you know, Little Joe. You know that. I love you like a son." "Oh shit, the shit's getting deep in here, brother!"
I searched out Britney. She was smokin' dope with a guy who looked just like Mickey Mouse, the Disney owner, I think. Damn, that'd be cool if he saw my act and put me on the Mickey Mouse Club--holy shit, that would make my day, baby. "Hey, Mick, remember me?" Come on, you son of a bitch. Professor Glenn followed behind me. "Little Joe, that Mickey Mouse is a human in a Mickey Mouse costume. He can't understand your jabber." "Well, come on then, Glenn, you get me on this Britney Spears thing so the Mick can check out my act and maybe get me on the Disney Channel." "Not likely, Little Joe. Organ-grinding monkeys remind humans of the Old World." "Whaaaa! What old world? I was born in Baltimore, dammit, what old world?" "Little Joe, your act. It's like Old World Italian--European--the organ-grinder's monkey." "Hey, this monkey grinds his own organ...." "No, I'm just telling you, Little Joe, your act is getting corny. Kids wanna play with your organ but they don't find you cute at all. In fact, I been meaning to train you to become a female impersonator." "Whaaaaa!" "Yeah, I think a monkey Judy Garland would be cute as hell." "Give me a god-damn break." "I'm tryin' to give you a break, Little Joe."
I feel silly as hell in this new costume Professor Glenn has me donning. Holy shit. It's a business-looking man's suit, but it isn't a man's suit, it's a replica of that suit-looking suit Judy Garland wore during her London comeback concerts. "Am I supposed to sing?" "Naw," Professor Glenn said, "you just mouth the words and we'll run a real Judy Garland loop behind you over the sound system--'Over the Rainbow's' your big finale--you got it down?" "Got it down. I'm a pro, sport, I don't do nothing without gettin' it down, and gettin' down pat, too." "So we start off with a long monolog--you know, Judy spieling about her life and her this and that...." "And I've gotta be mouthin' all of that, too. That's a long boring ass cry for help, brother." "You can do it, Little Joe. Believe me, this is gonna cause a riot!" "Jesus, I hope you're right. I feel like the ultimate fool in this get up."
By god, the Judy Garland thing is going over bigger than I ever imagined. Last night at Freddy's Cabaret in New York City, I wowed their asses--those dudes were laughing their gay asses off over my little act. "Judy never looked so good," I heard one dude say to his lover. Fuck no, I thought, Judy never looked so real. She was a monkey woman, wasn't she?"
"What the hell you mean you've hired a monkey to play Mickey Rooney! This is getting, like
John Wayne once said, 'Regod-damn-diculous'." "Come on, Little Joe, it'd be cute, a Mickey
Rooney monkey with you--you two could do some farm-barn musicals like Judy and Mickey did back in the late 1930s--boy, were they hot." "Professor Glenn, I let you talk me into this Judy Garland impersonating shit, but I'll be damn if I work with another god-damn monkey...who are you thinking about?" "Mitch the Magnificent." "Mitch the Magnificent, that phony piece of crap. I mean, Jesus X Christ. Isn't that the monkey who does that Houdini death-defying water trick?" "Yeah, that's him. He's a thespian, too, though." "Never, I say, never, never, never." "Ah come on, be a sport." "Never."
Professor Glenn hired Mitch the Magnificent alright but not as Mickey Rooney. Whew that was close. I dig this Judy Garland act and I don't want it fucked up with a Mickey Rooney character buggin' my ass. Would this bastard get to grab my ass or try and kiss me! NEVER. I'm getting good at Judy, boy howdy, I am. Professor Glenn gave me some uppers like Warner Bros. used to pump into Judy to keep her putting out movies while she was hot box office. Whew, I'm on fire on those uppers and playing Judy Garland to the fucking hilt. I'm laughing my ass off. Professor Glenn has Mitch dressed up like Evel Knievel, you know, a stars-spangled cape--and then he trots out this little red motorcycle. Yeah, a real motorcycle. You should see this stupid Mitch. He thinks he's gonna upstage me! Maybe Judy Garland'll take over that motorcycle. How 'bout a flying Judy! Don't monkey around with me! I ain't your average monkey.