Friday, September 25, 2009

Living in New York City Under Constant Threats of Terror

Foto by tgw, nyc, 2008

Why'd They Bring the Al-Queda Terrorist to New York City?

I watched tonight as with great pomp and circumstance every commercial teevee station had exclusive stories on this Muslim dude, Zazi, from Colorado (hey, he favors Osama bin Laudin, could it be he's one of that evil bastard's bastard sons?). First they show videos of this Zazi going into a couple of beauty salon supply stores, wholesale outlets I would assume, and buying 32 oz. jugs of hydrogen peroxide. Yep, that's right, just plain old peroxide. Every household has a bottle in their medicine cabinet (is that what they're still called?)--I've got a bottle right now in my bathroom. Since I was a little kid I remember the peroxide bottle in the bathroom. And I remember the sting of peroxide as it was poured over my many wounds. I've gargled with peroxide. And I heard my mother and her gossipy friends talking about "oh, she's a peroxide blonde," meaning the color of her hair was phony--that she had combed hydrogen peroxide into her hair and bleached it blonde--there was a term "bleached blondes," too. These terms were especially attached to certain "blonde" movie stars. "Hussies," my mother called them, too. [Of course today (Saturday) they are now admitted they never found any of those hydrogen peroxide bottles in Zazi's possession. His apartment was clean. They found nothing incriminating in his apartment. His lawyer sez they've got nothing on this guy--and that's probably true, but he'll be convicted anyway--President Obama has proven he can stop terrorists in their tracks same as G.W. Bush and Unka Dick Cheney did when they were the top dogs.]

So this Muslim dude, Zazi, lets himself be photographed buying hydrogen peroxide--I know he's Muslim, by the way, from his profile--the high cheekbones, that rather-Jewish (Semite) nose, the full black beard, the too big head, wearing the out-of-date sweater and a pair of what look like what we used to call Dickies (that was the brand name of nerd pants back in my day). You can also assume he Feds have had their eye on this goofball for many moons. You know they have several of these goofballs spotted all around the country, watching their every move. For that reason I kept wondering, if they were suspicious of this guy several months ago, why didn't they bust his ass then? Can't they do that under G.W. Bush's War on Terror rules? They can tag him an enemy combatant and ship his ass off to Guantanamo where they can waterboard him into spilling the beans on his "obviously" many al Queda cell buddies in the USA. I'm being facetious, but they did that to the Shoe Bomber--they threw him in a Navy slammer and brainbeat him for 4 solid years with the cruelest punishment known to man--isolation in darkness (cell windows blackened out), with no bed, no bedding, only the concrete floor; not allowed to sleep, not allowed to rest, blasting rock & roll into his cell with special speakers the Navy electronics people came up with, speakers that blasted loud rock & roll in a direct way into his cell 24/7. They literally turned this poor bastard into a zombie and still they have nothing really substantial on the dude. Now I'm seeing they've discovered a stupid, lonely, attention-seeking White boy who they say tried to blow up the Springfield, Illinois, court house--and listen to this, he tried to blow up the court house with explosives sold to him by FBI undercover dudes. You see these explosives were duds. Wow, that's scary when the people who are supposed to be protecting you are going around selling explosives to intice nutjob copycat kids into commiting acts of terror. This White guy, he's taken a Muslim name, says he's an admirer of the US Taliban dude, John Walker Lindh (hey, his middle name's the same as Pappy Bush's), another lonely, attention-seeking (a love-me-daddy case--same thing with Michael Jackson) who the CIA shut the fuck up fast once they'd beat the shit out of him and then put the fear of the CIA vengeful god in his head. They shut him up just like they shut up that hero woman soldier early in the Iraq War--remember her?--rescued by the Marines from a Iraqi hospital? Turned out it was all staged by the CIA and the Gyrenes. So there are plenty of questions relating to these sudden outbursts of discoveries of terrorists all over the country at once it seems. I vaguely recall other terrorists our brave FBI agents nabbed--like the Black guys who were going to blow up Kennedy Airport or some such shit. Seems like one was a Haitian dude who worked for an airline. Or how about the 5 or 6 terrorists in Florida (Black guys) a few years back? How about the Buffalo bunch? How about the Canadians who were going to blow up Ottawa?

It is insane how fucking frightened we are of these so-called al-Queda operatives--these goofballs, these attention-seeking sociopaths--and that's what these guys are: Sociopaths. We have tons of 'em all over the country. They hate any kind of authority and most of them have either broken-home situations or rough-times situations at home with one or both of their parents or they are spoiled little rich brats like Osama and G.W. Bush and that ilk. In retrospect, G.W. Bush's handling of this whole 9/11 thing was totally wrong. It has left us now exceedingly vulnerable to attacks or attempts at attacks from within and without. Al-Queda seems stronger today and more invincible than it was when Bin Ladin was training them at his Afghanistan training facility--a series of scrubby tents set up on a stretch of desert with 20 or so dudes wearing black hoods making out like they're killing Americans. I mean, come on, we've got 150,000 men in Iraq and who knows how many in Afghanistan, at least 50,000, and with this huge a force of professional soldiers we have been unable to break al-Queda's back. How many troops can al-Queda have? Certainly not 100s of thousands. The cocky bastards leading us today went AWOL during the Vietnam War, turned their back on it, and now they've gotten us into an even worse mess and have for the first time in US history put our nation in jeopardy for a truly well-0rganized attack that will wreak havoc with my hometown--always it's New York City that faces the brunt of these agitated dudes's vengeance.

Taking My Mind Off the Bullshit (or can I?)
I was up in the fabby plexoglas-walled open-air offices of The Daily Growler a couple a'days ago and got fascinated over one of our IT geniuses trying to delete for good this Chinese porn-peddler who's successfully hacked his way into Google's blogosphere and appears regularly every morning in our comments section. We translated the comment and it has to do with underage Thai girls who are willing to do anything a real man wants and they have some videos for sale that prove it. As I was watching Chou-Chou deal with this Chinese guy (we can't stop him and neither can Google) I was very pleased to see a comment from thewomantrumpetplayer about her valiant effort in trying to protest the human predators who crave the killing and gutting and skinning out of gray wolves up in our sparsely populated Rocky Mountain states, like Wyoming (Unka Dick's carpetbag home state), Montana (the home of Max "Pay or You Die" Baucus), Idaho (a northwest Cracker state--home of a large contingency of White Racist Militants (not classified as terrorists by Homeland Security)--and Boise at one time had the worst Chinese food I'd ever eaten until I got to Clovis, New Mexico, a few weeks later).

I wonder if these human predators eat wolf meat--wolf steaks--or maybe after a day of heavy wolf killing, gutting, and skinning out, they eat the raw wolf hearts for virility? I mean, come on, human beings are as savage as wolves! Wolves don't kill humans--they run like hell when they see a human slogging toward them all dolled out with AKAs with laser spotter beams on them--I mean wolves aren't dumb. They know you're coming toward them with intentions of killing them.

One time in Jamaica, while I was staying in Ocho Rios with my old piano-playing friend from my hometown, I had an affair with this Jamaican girl who cleaned my apartment every day and who was so charming and bouncingly energetically beautiful and erect like most young Jamaican girls all seem to be she thrilled me to the bone. Just hanging with her, listening to her sing-song voice, and watching her smooth-as-glass and enticing body movements gave me multiple thrills (I was just divorced and free to cavort around some before I cornered another innocent thing and talked her into marrying me). And this Jamaican girl lived up above Ocho Rios in the mountains and one day she told me to get showered and cleaned up that she was taking me up to her parents's farm where they were going to kill a pig and then have a big feast that night--drinking 151 rum, eating barbecued pork and jerked pork and cerviche and Scotch bonnet peppers and drinking more 151 rum and then dancing the night away--with the hope of the night ending with us wrapped in the throes of fornication down by some waterfall in the moonlight.

We got to her farm and there was already a big crowd in her front yard, all ganged around this huge tree, an old tree with one old sturdy branch jutting straight out over the gathering's heads. A little band was playing up on the farmhouse porch. There was a table just off the porch filled with jugs of rum and bottles of Coca Cola and several jugs of homemade rum. Also on the table was a pile of the most beautiful ganga I've ne'er seen since--all cleaned and specially cut up and ready to be rolled into spliffs. My girl's sister was rolling the spliffs and soon she stuck a big one in my hand and the next thing I know, I was feeling no pain, as giddy and carefree as a newborn pup. I'm slugging down the rum, and I'm mooning all over the Jamaican girls all running around in their skimpy dresses, their exquisitely slim and contoured bodies...oh, Jesus, this isn't the way I wanted this to go.

Soon there was a stirring among the big gathering as a fishtail Cadillac pulled up next to the yard and out came this dude, a little old dude, wearing a stingy-brim topper and a fine black suit with a red-floral-wild tie, wearing sunglasses and carrying a couple of strong ropes and a leather satchel. The band played a fanfare and the crowd quieted down as this little man went about what he was hired to do: kill the pig we were going to feast on later.

The pen of pigs I had already seen. It was behind the house, down in a little valley just 50 yards or so away from that old tree with that protruding python-sized limb that hung straight out strong from its trunk.

First the little man slung one of his ropes up over that python-sized limb. He fixed a slip knot in it and then pulled it down tight in a knot around that limb's girth. He then took his other rope and made a lasso out of it. He turned to my girl's father and nodded and the two of them headed off down to the pig pen.

I had walked out to the pig pen with my girl earlier. There were about 7 healthy pigs in the pen. And they were spry and jolly as hell, snorting and oinking and burrowing in the mud and their own filth. But the minute--and here's my point about the wolves understand what a human being coming toward them with an AKA pointed at them--the minute these pigs saw that little man coming with that lasso they quieted down and stood firm in their tracks. As the girl's father opened the gate to the pigpen and the little man began to twirl his lasso over his head, those pigs started squealing (screaming) bloody murder--and they ran--and they cried mercy, but the little dude was the pro and he soon had a prime porker lassoed and was hauling his heavyweight ass back up the slight incline back up to that hanging tree--and that pig pleaded with that little dude all the way up the hill and he dug his trotters into the ground with resistance--but to no avail. Soon that pig was hoisted up by his hind legs belly up on that python limb, hanging him head down and throat exposed. In the batting of an eye, that little dude produced a shiny silver knife from his leather satchel and with the same flashing speed he slashed that pig's throat--SWOOSH--and Jesus X. Christ the blood spurted from that pig's throat like a fire hose shooting out a lunging of water. Quick as another batting of an eye, the little dude took his flashing knife and split that pig's gut wide open and with a slushing sound those guts and innards and organs dropped into a large gutbucket giving off a large puff of steam as they spilled into that big bucket.

Then the fun really began when the carcass was finally scrubbed down, dehaired, and well groomed. Then a huge iron spitz was shoved up that pig's ass and coming out his mouth and soon he was spitzed up right and taken out behind the house to a big pit in the ground and soon that porker was sizzling away as a young girl turned the spitz, the pig's fats oozing down into that wood fire that had soon settled down into a huge pile of sizzling hot coals.

Watching that pig get his throat cut and then watching him gutted overruled whatever sexual fantasies I had that night. Besides, before it was over, I was so drunk I ended up down near the pig pen with a woman I had no idea who she was. Then I passed out for good or bad. I woke up the next morning back in my apartment in Ocho Rios with my girlfriend in bed with me. I have no memory of how I got back to that apartment and my girlfriend wouldn't tell me and never talked about the incident again with me--and we continued our affair for several more weeks, though I was never invited back to her parents's place.

So I can just see these human predators up in those Rocky Mountain wilds gutting wolves and eating their hearts raw. Native Americans killed wolves but with great respect. Using their fine fur for winter garb and in return for the wolf's sacrifice they turned him into a spirit god.

In the meantime, this wolf here in New York City is once again being frightened to death by Homeland Security, the FBI, the NYPD--I mean, these birds are all over Manhattan tonight (Friday night). Zazi is being held at the Manhattan Federal Prison--oh yeah, we have one. But I'm still wondering, why did they bring him to the very place he was supposedly intending blowing up--they said Zazi was intending to blow up either some of our buses or a subway station a la London style. Why would you risk a terrorist attack on downtown Manhattan by imprisoning this guy here if he really is an al-Queda instigator!

I'm sorry, but I see politics written all over this. I mean we're having a mayor's race here at the moment. And soon we're going to have a very controversial governor's race.

Mayor Billionaire Bloomberg is already calling his Black opponent a liar, a dumbass, a promoter of crime in our schools--his opponent, Bill Thompson, once ran the school system and our billionaire mayor says when he ran it kids were passed automatically in spite of their low test scores (test scores are very big with Bloomberg), plus there was high crime in the schools then--UNTIL Mayor Bloomberg took the schools over, hired a businessman as his dickboy over the system, and made it especially tough for lower income and Black and Latino kids to score high enough on these tests--tests that prove nothing--nothing. Let me tell you how rude and crude and egomaniacal this asshole mayor is. This sorry son of a bitch went to a U2 concert in New Jersey in his fucking private helicopter, landing it in the fucking parking lot, and scaring the holy hell out of a whole bunch people attending the concert thinking his helicopter was an al-Queda gunboat coming to blow their asses away--I mean, afterall, they'd been alerted all day to the fact that Zazi and the Queens Iman were going to plant backpack bombs somewhere on our transportation system, our luxury hotels, and our sports complexes. The nerve of that bastard. This private helicopter of his they say sits gassed up with the motor running 24/7 ready to whisk this little asshole off to the safety of one of his private island estates in case there really is an al-Queda cell active in New York City and any day we New Yorkers could be blown to smithereens by hydrogen peroxide bombs in backpacks.

But you see what this is. Remember one of Bush's brags on leaving office--besides his being proud of his actions in Iraq--was that there hadn't been anymore terrorist attacks on the USA since 9/11. And as soon as Obama took office, Unka Dick started running around warning us if we stopped waterboarding these Muslim assholes they'd reattack us for sure.

Perhaps this Zazi bullshit is proving President Obama can also protect us from al-Queda terrorists--preventing this hydrogen peroxide bomb attack just as the President and half the leaders of the world were in town clogging up our streets for a (worthless, ineffective) UN Security meeting. I mean, come on, that Iranian nutjob president was in town and that Libyan self-proclaimed god was staying out at the Donald's Bedford Hills estate. [God, I hate Donald Trump. He's as dull and as phony as that tacky 50s White rocker hairdo he sports. He and Martha Steward amaze me. Bland, narrowminded, self-agrandizing people who are so phony--even Michael Jackson was more real to me than Donald Trump.]

Sorry. But I think rather than a gray wolf massacre, how about us thinning out some of these fucking billionaires and taking back some of the wealth they've stolen from us and our forebears for the whole history of this White Man's nation?

Now we have some overweight, sloppy-looking military types carrying automatic weapons in our subways again--police presence everywhere. I mean, the mayor could announce at any minute he's stopping the election and keeping office as dictator and what could we do about it?

It's Nazi time in Dreamland. We are all drugged up and swayed by waving flags and flag lapel pins and putting wreaths on soldiers's graves and praising soldiers who've returned with no legs but who are running in marathons now on those metal feet that look like automobile brake shoes--praising soldiers, waving the bloody shirt, being scared shitless every morning when we wake up and get the news that al-Queda may be hiding under our beds with a backpack containing a hydrogen peroxide bomb. We the People have been lulled into thinking we are divinely protected from military style attacks. European cities got used to it--I mean look how many times Europe has been destroyed by wars or had their cities bombed flat to the ground. Or hell, look how many invasions and occupations the poor Iraqis and Afghanistanis have had to endure for almost their entire time as trying to be independent nations. No one has ever successfully conquered Afghanistan--and if they did, not for very long. The Russians warned us of this when our CIA-backed Osama Bin Ladin gang, the Mujaheddin, and the Taliban all joined hands to drive the Russkies out of town.

Obama at the same time is using this al-Queda scare to escalate his war in Afghanistan, the new righteous war. General Betrayus and General McCrystalmeth are asking for more and more and more troops--more canon fodder--more men and women to be sacrificed in an effort to weed out what amounts to only a few hundred actually who are openly classified as al Queda--yes, folks, al-Queda, if it isn't an invention of the CIA, is not a large group of people--they are not large enough to be called an army. The Taliban, yes, they have an army--they were once in control of Afghanistan so they have much larger forces than al-Queda. Besides, Al-Queda is made up not of Afghanistans but rather well-heeled and educated Saudi-Arabians, Jordanians, Dubaiites, etc. It's easy now for al-Queda to recruit young Muslim wild boys now all stirred up and looking for favors from Allah--looking for those 100,000 virgins awaiting them on high after they've blown away 3,000 filthy heathen savage secular Americans! Then why Spainards? Then why Londoners? Then why Nigerians? I'm confused--and I'm a sharply fine-tuned empiricist, too.

In the meantime, the real estate developments are going on without a hitch here in Manhattan. Slowly but surely buildings are still popping up like wild mushrooms on steroids. The trendy new party hotels are springing up all over town--they call them boutique hotels. Ohhhh-gaaah. And these boutique hotels all sport these party bars. One boutique hotel club owner brags about how he only invites 200 of New York City's trendiest people to his party bar--they are the only ones who can get in his club. That's what's going on in the leisure class world--these trendy bars packed every night with these twentyish people all young and restless and wild and devil-may-care as they blow hundreds upon hundreds of dollars on overpriced, overtaxed booze and dance up-and-down pogo-style--Oh, didn't I mention that most these kids are White?

So the rich, those who have, are having a ball. They're all super rich and they give their worthless spoiled brat kids credit cards and SUVs and body guards and maids. While the whole world is sinking deeper and deeper into Chaos, they party on! They are better than the average bears, don't you see?

for The Daily Growler

A The Daily Growler Sports Bulletin From Our Own Sports Hero marvelousmarvbackbiter
I watched the Yankees clobber the Boston Red Sox last night--on teevee; I won't go to that stadium--that's not the House that Ruth Built--that's a reproduction Yankee Stadium. The Yankees are an awesome hitting team. Their pitching is mediocre like the pitching everywhere in both leagues. Sabathia's their best pitcher but he's unreliable. Jabo Chamberlain pitched last night against Boston's young star Jon Lester. Jabo pitched good for 3 innings then they hit a home run off of him and started getting on base. Boston closed the gap in the 7th, but then the Yankee hitters went wild and the Yanks ended up winners and now only 2 games away from clinching the American League East title. Boston is terribly beat up though they have played better ball than the Yankees over the past week or so. The Yankees were on a 5 out of 6 game losing streak until last night. Now they are 6 1/2 games ahead of Boston.

Like I said, the Yankees are awesome hitters this year. Jeter, who I've always said is the best player in baseball, is hitting .334; even Johnny Damon is hitting .285 with over 20 home runs. The Yankees have scored more runs than any other team in baseball and they are the best team in the majors right now.

On the other side of the fence, the New York Mets--forget them. They are 24 games out of first place. They look like the '62 Mets, the original Mets. Big mistake getting rid of Willie Randolph--now I think they know that.

The best team in the National League right now is the LA Dodgers under Joe Torre. They are 5 games up on the Colorado Rockies. They are headed for the playoffs for the second year in a row. Whether they can make it all the way to the World Series is up in the air, but, oh, what a glorious series that would be for me: the Yankees and the Dodgers! That's a game I'm dreaming of. Whether it'll happen...hey, the Yankees are beatable--and Minnesota is playing almost perfect baseball at the moment--they've won 9 out of their last 10, something like that--only 3 games behind Detroit. It's gonna be fun--I'll watch the playoff series--I will root for the Yankees. It's hard for me to root for the fucking Dodgers but with Joe Torre there and Manny there, I've gotta root for them. Dammit, I've got to see the Yankees and Dodgers in the series. My fingers are crossed.

for The Daily Growler

No comments: