Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Johnny Damon, Sex, and Politics, As Related By thegrowlingwolf

Foto by tgw, New York City, September, 2010
Who Is That Behind the Johnny Damon Mask?
Well, hell, once again, We the People of the USA have been told by our President that We the People of the USA are COMMITTED to stand behind Israel's rights to their homeland, our HOLY LAND, the land on which the USA's Messiah, the Nazarene Jewish dude who may or may not have existed--there's only a scant mention of a Jewish Reformer who was pestering the Jewish high caliphs (yes, the Jews had caliphs, too) during the Roman invasion and occupation of Judea under Tiberius and supposedly, according to the Christian Bible, under the Roman governorship of one Pontius Pilatus, of which there is little proof of existence, most of it based on a limestone block discovered in an old Roman theater in Caesarea that contains an inscription saying a "Pilatus" ("a man skilled at throwing a javelin [a pilum]") paid tribute to Tiberius. The Pilatus on the stone's title was 5th Procurator of Judea. The stone was discovered by Israeli archaeologists and is in the Israeli State Museum. Both the Christians and the Jews are using this stone to prove biblical history is authentic.

I drift so far off course, but here's the direction I'm headed: President Obama's speech before the United Nations. But before I get to the speech, let's detour to say, President Obama's coming to New York City and giving a speech at the UN ties up Midtown Manhattan traffic into wild long-suffering-time-period knots--I mean the bully cops block off half of the East Side from 42nd way up past 49th-50th and from Fifth Avenue over to the East River--plus the President stays at the Waldorf-Astoria on Park Avenue--the street Bernie Madoff lived on--in the $7,000-a-night Presidential Suite, which We the People are probably paying 10 times that amount for with all the accoutrements that come along with a president when he visits New York City--think about it. Air Force One has to boogie Obama, his staff, his Secret Service dudes, his own personal body guards, his Cadillac Escalade supersouped up SUV, into an airport, then this force has to bring him into town from wherever Air Force One finally lands--I'm sure that's a national secret--but wherever it is, he needs a fleet of SUVs to lead and follow his big Caddie SUV, plus the NY State troopers with flashing blue and red lights blazing away atop their best dress-up cruisers, then being picked up by our own NYPD dress-up squad cars with their blue and red lights flashing and their sirens sending out their banshee warnings to get out of the way or get run down, gunned down, blown down, the president is coming to town.

It's interesting to note here a new CBS cops show glorifying the NYPD by calling the show "Blue Bloods," starring the long-time washed-up actor on his second or third comeback, Tom Selleck, a name long forgotten, though the show that made him famous and rich, "Magnum P.I.," is well known to teevee buffs and college teevee analysis courses. OK, I admit, it was a hit show for 8 years, from 1980 to 1988--and, yes, I watched it, though I thought it was pretty badly written and acted, just another version of "Hawaii 5 O," the current remake of which looks like a loser since it's oversuperanal, pompously acted by bad actors, common old ordinary James-Dean-imitating supermadeup and styled Hollywood punkmen and superslick girl sidekicks--a show that gives token acting jobs to so-called "Hawaiians," who in fact are American-Asian actors, one on this new show being this Grace Park "Hawaiian pretender," who acts according to White-Hollywood standards as a supermean and yet superteasysexy Asian actress (a la Anna May Wong of the Hollywood old days--Hollywood still using tactics invented by Tom Edison and D.W. Griffith). Also, Grace has a very weird accent--hell, the show is pure schlock, folks, and is probably filmed in L.A. it's so phony. It looks like CBS is leading up to adding a "CSI-Honolulu" to its now loaded roster of CSI shows--tying "CSI-Honolulu" in with the "Hawaii 5 O" gang of James-Dean imitators and phony "Hawaiians"--both CBS productions--how 'bout Snoop Dog turned Hawaiian? Or take this annoying Chuck D. here in New York City, the ex-Bad Ass when he was in Public Enemy, and make an actor out of him. All rappers to me are phonies--Middle-Class urban Black kids pretending to be gangstas and streeters, when in truth, like P-Diddle-Diddle, most of these kids come from certainly gettin'-by Middle Class homes--they go to high school--some of them like P. Diddle went to private schools in Manhattan--some of them like P. Diddle-Daddy went to college--some of then like P. Pappy got business (management) degrees. To me rap is simply Black commercial-pop music now--not the continence of improvisational music, i.e., Jazz, though I'll admit it could be a reinvention of the intentions of the Boppers with their special bop way of singing lyrics and talking, or an extension of The Life, the Black way of communicating in prisons in the old days--the rapping on the pipes the code way of talking and then inventing long poems explaining prison life through Uncle-Remus-like tales and legends and Grim Brothers-like fables extending out into the real world with the publication of the small book of poems called The Life, which I can find no reference to via Googling--but I know it exists because I once owned one, which I sold to a friend who worked at the Gotham Book Mart for nice bucks, along with a copy of Patty Smith's first book of poem--and all of the above a wordy detour while I got President Obama from wherever Air Force One landed and into Manhattan to the Presidential Suite in the Waldorf-Astoria that I said was probably costing We the People not the normal $7,500-a-night but rather more like $75,000-a-night given all the special fixtures and rooms and services the hotel has to provide the President's entourage--I mean, come on, the Waldorf has to make a profit off the President's visit.

All of this so our President can make a speech before the UN General Assembly in which he poses as a peacemaker (how hypocritical is that? except he did win the Nobel Peace Prize last year) in the ongoing battle over Israel's right to be placed in a Palestinian occupational role by the United Nations under the control of then US President Harry. S (for Ass I say--but then I was alive during Harry's presidency) Truman who said with quivering voice of meaning that We the People of the US would back Israel all the way to the end of time, blah, blah, blah. "Fuck the Palestinians" has always been the joint motto of both the Israelis and the U.S. Government. According to every Israeli I've ever met, Palestinians are lower than dogs. The Palestinians to the Jews are even lower dogs than common ordinary Arabs are to them. I argued this ingrained belief all night one night decades ago with a Jewish lover, and a wonderful well-educated and very level-headed woman she was, too, except when it came to the Israel-Palestine problem, blaming the problem on the fact Palestinians and all Arabs were lower than the bellies of dogs to Middle-Eastern Jews but especially European Jews, of which she was one, from German-Swiss heritage, of which she was very proud, a pride she showed by keeping her German-Swiss family name after marrying an American Jewish guy of Russian origin, an Ashkenazim, whose name she made fun of because she said it meant "Field Hand" in translation.

Obama's speech on his effort at bringing peace between Israel and Palestine was phony from the get go. Why is it the USA that has to constantly try at great expense and time wasting to bring Israel and Palestine to a peaceful coexistence in the country that was formerly the sovereign Arab nation of Palestine whose capital after the Ottoman Empire was defeated in World War I became Jerusalem? After World War I, Palestine had a large Jewish population. Jerusalem as it grew became more an international city than it was belonging to any one sect, cult, or fantasy or another. Yet, when Israel was formed, most of it was given over to the Israelis, based on it being a Jewish capital based on the fact the great Jewish temple that Tiberius destroyed was in Jerusalem, though a half-like portion of this city was left in control of the Palestinians.

Over the years, the Arabs tried their best to drive the Jews out of Palestine and take it all back under Arab control. Gamil Nasser went so far as to form the United Arab Republic out of Egypt and Syria with its base in Cairo in an effort to unite all Arabs against both Britain's and Israel's occupation of Arab lands. It all started in 1956 with the UAR's attack on the British at Port Suez in an effort that eventually led to Egypt gaining control of the Suez Canal. By 1967, the UAR, also becoming the United Arab States, which included North Yemen, under Nasser felt strong enough to attack Israel, coming at it across the Gaza desert. This became known as the "6-Day War" or to Israelis as the "June War." And thus started this whole conflict that is going on now. It was in this 6-Day War that Israel whipped the UAR's ass badly, wiping out their forces in the Gaza desert, and as a result, Israel's army took over the Gaza Strip from the Palestinians and Gaza desert from Egypt, the East Bank and the West Bank from Jordan, and the Golan Heights from Syria. Conflict with Syria and Nasser over what form of government should rule the UAR--Syria then under the Ba'athists was going through a Communist takeover, and after breaking off with the UAR, it did become a Communist regime. This conflict between Syria and Egypt ended the UAR for good. Nasser was totally unable to unite Arabs--yes, Muslims are divided into sects same as Christians and Jews and Buddhists and Hindi...why even the Cargo Cult folks of the South Pacific eventually divided into sects based on what cargo parachuted down in their part of the South Pacific. One sect might worship the "Descending Jeep" god while another might worship the " Descending 1600-hp Rolls-Royce Airplane Engine" god or perhaps one sect developed around the "100-lb Sack of Flour" god. Divided they all fall down.

So why do United States presidents always around a prime election time start trying to arbitrate peace between Israel and Palestine? All futile efforts. This current one Obama's riding high on is so fucking unreal. First of all, these talks don't include the Hamas, who are afterall
the legally elected leaders chosen by the Palestinian people in a fairly run election a few years back. G.W. Bush, that idiot, declared Hamas a terrorist organization because of their lobbing crude Scud rockets at Israeli communities on former Palestinian lands--former Palestinian olive groves that once produced one of the finest and most ancient of olive oils in the world. Now, it is Israel who has gone into the olive oil business. Obama is trying to get Israel's nutjob, NutsinYahoo, and this Palestinian Abbas dude who is not the true leader of Palestine to negotiate this peace. WHY IS OBAMA WASTING TIME AND MONEY TRYING TO BRING THIS PEACE ACCORD ABOUT? WHY? I'LL TELL YOU WHY: IT'S ALL A SMOKESCREEN. These Palestinian-Israel peace efforts always fail. And all the presidents since Ronnie Raygun have had these Palestinian-Israel peace talks and they all have failed. How can there be peace where there's never been any peace? Do a little Googling and find out how many Israelis have been killed by Palestinian rockets or bombers compared to how many Palestinians (I know they're dogs) the Israeli Army has killed--just this year alone. There is no comparison. Hundreds of Israelis compared to thousands of Palestinian--why 1,400 Palestinian men, women, and children dogs were killed by Israeli soldiers only a year or so ago.

America's young leaders ignore history. History is boring to them and besides, their rebellious natures, their resistance to their elders, makes them deny any history they've never consciously lived through. Perhaps they are old enough to remember Pappy Bush's most successful US war of the post-World War II era of US wars, the Persian Gulf War, but I doubt it. And what ever happened to General Swarmin' Stormin Norman Dumkopf? Has he faded away? And why isn't he involved in the planning of our current long-run unsuccessful wars? Is he dead? I mean Obama is using that horrible asshole of a military idiot
Zbigniew Brezshinski, Slick Willie's Master of War--the man who ordered attacks on civilians in our fabulous Slick-Willie-instigated war against the leftover Hapsburg Serbs and against the former Nazi Croatians, ironically fighting, we claimed, to protect the people of the Serbian-Croatian-hated Muslim-majority country of Bosnia. "WHAT?" you scream, "we wasted money and blood protecting a bunch of Jew-hating Bosnia Muslims? Aren't we ashamed of ourselves?" That's what I mean by this being a nation of hypocrites. A nation of conspirators (the Existential Cowboy understands this) who believe that the Christian God Jehovah is on their side and justifying whatever killing fields they create or whatever heathen individuals they want to illegally kidnap and take to, ironically, Muslim countries to be tortured into admitting they are Muslim terrorists--hey, for a few extra billion bucks wouldn't you crucify your own grandmother (or do it diplomatically like Machiavelli taught the Power Elitists of his day--hey, Machiavelli had to make a living)?

So why is President Obama ballyhooing in front of the UN about our commitment to Israel right or wrong? Why is he so eloquently defending Israel's Judeo-Christian right to be a free Jewish-only state in a territory belonging to a Muslim-only state, designated by the Christians (the Gentiles) as their Holy Land in their insane effort to prove to the Jews and the world that this fabulous Jewish reformer named Joshua ben Joseph is the true Messiah, something the Jews don't believe; yet they have the same history books as the Christians; yet, they reach a totally different conclusion about this fabulous character, as real as Paul Bunyan is in our folklore; or John Henry, the Steel-Drivin' Man; or Casey Jones the fabulous engineer--"Drivin' that train/High on cocaine...."

Finally, I get to my point: President Obama is on the campaign trail, folks. Not only is his ass up for grabs in the coming 2010 mid-term election, but it's up for grabs in the coming 2012 presidential election. Remember, folks, the presidential election Obama won started two years before the actual election. So that's all this is. It's Obama trying to keep the US Jews and those dual citizens of Israel who get to vote overhere, too, from going over to the Repugs and the Tea Partiers. And Jews have a lot of financial power in this country and like Teabaggers and Irish Catholics, they vote as a bloc, and they certainly have to defend Israel right or wrong and they will because even the most reformed Jew is sometimes scared to death of being separated from their Jewish roots. Besides, the Palestinians have no power in this country. Hell, Muslims have no power in this country. Hell, Arabs have no power in this country--except the Saudi Arabians, who, Praise Jehovah, have just made a big military deal with the largest weapons dealers in the world, the US of A. And our weapons salesmen have been bitching about weapon sales being down--so, like we say, Praise Jehovah for sending our God-driven weapons sales division some business. Hot damn. Perhaps the Saudis will send some of these jet fighters to their comrades in Afghanistan or Yemen or wherever the PR branch of our government says the 150 al-Quedans left on the globe are committing terror by threatening to kill Americans.

So, yep, President Obama is simply running for his second term now. He'll be eloquently ballyhooing a lot until November of 2012. I love, for instance, the speech he gave on his weekly radio broadcast--remember when he said the White Man's House would be available to We the People through emails and twitters and Facebook shit--going from us right to President Obama's Blackberry? In this radio speech, Obama is chiding the Repugnicans, correctly, too, saying the policies they are preaching now, reducing taxes on the wealthy--in fact, doing away with taxes all together--Steve Forbes (the fop son of old Bisexual Malcolm Forbes--Liz said he never banged her) and the Libertarians are for that for sure--and bailing out Wall Street are the same policies of failure that got us into this Great Depression. Well, DUH, Mr. President. That sounds good, but how do you explain that most of your campaign funds in 2008 (the most money ever spent by a US Presidential candidate in history) came from the very Wall Street corporations, banks, HMOs, and insurance companies G.W. Bush and you bailed out of bankruptcy and criminal charges with We the People's money (taxes on our earnings; taxes on our fuels; taxes on the food we eat; taxes on our water supplies; tolls on our highways; taxes on our hotel rooms; taxes on our property; taxes on our businesses; taxes on our phone bills and utility bills; taxes, taxes, taxes--EXCEPT NO TAXES ON OUR POWER ELITE. Do we realize that only a handful of MEN own us now: The Koch Brothers, The Walton Family, Warren Buffett, Mayor Mike Bloomberg, and Bill and Melinda Gates control 200 billion dollars worth of wealth. Add Mexico's Senor Slim into the mix and we're talkin' 265 billion dollars worth of wealth. The U.S. is currently entering the largest ever separation of the wealthiest of us and the lowest of us--20% of us control all the personal wealth and the highest salaries in this country--the other 80% of us make $50,000-a-year or less, mostly less. How about that bunch of Economists (not a pure science, remember) who say folks 55 years old and currently out of work may never find work ever again in their lives. That's a pretty startling statement; yet Obama refuses to deal with such matters. Instead he's talking about the US of A committed to defending Israel even if it means World War III, which could be the War of Human Annihilation. YAHOO! When the Apes (with Essence) take their jungle world back over.

for The Daily Growler

Friday, September 24, 2010

Johnny Damon and the Sensational Human Zoo

Foto by tgw, New York City, 2010
For Jill Johnston
When I moved to New York City in 1969, the Village Voice was the choice reading of anyone with any interest in New York City culture, the writing, the filmmaking, the music, the drama, the dance, the life. I used to hang out at the Riviera that sat like a wedge of pie on the far north side of Sheridan Square on Seventh Avenue. At that time the Village Voice offices were directly across Seventh Avenue from the Riviera. Everybody who was anybody at the Voice could be found at the Riviera bar or at one of the outdoor tables. Norman Mailer still owned an interest in the Voice in those days. I read the damn Voice faithfully, every week, and there was one writer in the Voice I made sure I read when they ran her pieces. She reported on dance but her columns took her views on dance out into the street, into the primordial slime of the emerging new methods and modes and politics and leanings and outings. The only thing I had in common with Jill was her writing. I loved the way she wrote. She was funny, wacky, very hip, certainly and proudly Lesbian; yet she was sexy, too, in that Patty Smith kind of sexiness...it's hard to explain unless you were there. New York City was vibrant in those days--I mean this is before the real estate industry took this city over--this was the days of rentals--you looked for that perfect little village apartment--perhaps tucked back in a courtyard you got to going through and iron gate and down a long narrow corridor to come to a tiny courtyard balconied, cool Village apartments stacked up to 5 walk-up floors. These were the days when you could hear live jazz all over the Village; you could hear folkies and beginning rockers and free-verse poets and abstract painters and minimalists and jazz dancers and street dancers and the place was buzzing with local talent of which Jill was one of the best. Here's what Jill said about writing: "Writing is employing the chief tool of culture to add to the global chatter as stylishly as possible with the moral imperative of underscoring the absurdity of culture." How's that for luring you into her existential world? The Theater of the Absurd was at its peak when Jill worked at the Voice. The Voice died when Mailer and his associate sold out to Clay Felder, the founder of New York Magazine, who then sold the Voice to the archenemy of good journalism, Rupert Murdoch, a true jiveass turkey. Now the Voice is best for wrapping waste in, like fish guts or perhaps a dead pet or whatever. And now I was sorry to read that Jill Johnston had passed off the mortal coil. She died after suffering a stroke a couple of weeks ago. She was 81. Goodbye, Jill Johnston, one of the ones who helped me get into Living in New York City the true way--except that New York City is dead now. The Village has become high stakes real estate now. Why even the Saint Vincent's Hospital Emergency Room, the Village emergency room, is gone--out of business due to bankruptcy. Only in America do we let our hospitals go bankrupt. RIP, Jill Johnston.

Blog Bog
It started Thursday when I went in my Blog List and saw something I wanted to check out on Sign of the Times, SOTT, and when I clicked on it, a pop up window came up and said the site was unavailable and it gave me a list of reasons it could be down. I clicked on it a second time and once again the same old pop up came up. I went into Google and put Sign of the Times in the search window. The SOTT site was first in the list but when I clicked on it, I got the same window saying this time the server wasn't responding. I went back to my Blog List and clicked on it there once again and again I got the same old-same old response. Then I just happened to notice just under my SOTT listing in my Blog List was a new Sign of the Times link. I was puzzled. Had I accidentally listed SOTT twice and was just now noticing it? That couldn't be. I clicked on the link and son of a bitch, I got a Sign of the Times site alright, but this one was a Christian Sign of the Times site. How the hell had these F-ing Christians managed to link into the original SOTT site and that way fuck up their site and also hack their way onto my Blog List and I assume millions of others. Friday afternoon I tried SOTT again and it was back on line but since then Blogspot has somehow taken away my tool to edit my Blog List so I can't put SOTT back up. I like SOTT because they have interesting news items--yes, they're up my alley in terms of side-of-the-aisle, but occasionally I read something on there I'd not noticed before--like some Repugnican jerk from a sticks state throwing a monkey wrench into a bill that would benefit some needy human beings--like this damn hick sister Blanche Lincoln from the lowly state of hillbilly Arkansas, which has been ruled by White hick despots from way back in its checkered history--sorry Arkies, but I will throw the same muck at my home state of Texas, which used to look down their Longhorn noses on anything Arkansas, even though there were Arkies and Okies and Texans hitting the trail together for La-La Land during the Great Depression and Dust Bowl days. And Sister Blanche Lincoln threw her monkey wrench into the works by voting with the retard Repugnicans against putting an end to the very stupid--sounds like a Bill Clinton invention--Don't Ask-Don't Tell military policy for Gay and Lesbian soldiers, which they have to pledge to observe. Of course, it's very manly for heteros to constantly talk about their sexual preferences and to ridicule sexual deviances--they're just following the old adage that "boys will be boys." Hey, so they get into rape while in the military--that's OK, as long as they're raping enemy women or enemy young boys. There's a big problem in Afghanistan right now with Afghan soldiers raping young boys--but, that's OK, at least they are on our side and raping Aghan boys and not our sweet little Apple pie American boys--those who the Catholic padres haven't already bespoiled.

Of course there have been Gays in the military since ancient times. My God, when I was in the military, which is now many moons ago, I was constantly on my guard and on the look out for Gay sergeants and officers. My first experience with a Gay sergeant was in Basic. It was simply a gesture the guy made and a strange comment that made me suspicious and on my guard and sure enough a trooper later told me he'd taken the guy up on having a drink in his barracks room and when they had a few drinks the sergeant started talking about relaxing and maybe how he'd like Old Sarge to give him a massage--how 'bout he lay down on Old Sarge's bed, maybe take the shirt off, blah, blah, blah. I avoided any contact with the dude after that. Then later when I was at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, doing my specialty training, my supply sergeant and one of my company's first sergeants were Gay--and I thought rather openly so--all the guys in my company knew they were Gay. All the straight sergeants were drunks. And when they got drunk enough, hell, they couldn't tell a man from a woman they got so lovey-dovy--the Army is very hard on the young men and women entering the horniest stages of their lives--like packing a bunch of manly women into dorms and expecting them to stay out of each other's beds at night, or expecting poor young men horribly horny, filled with the macho killer instinct, to rein in their abnormal lusts when they have a subjecting power over young enemy women--and Iraqi and Afghanistan women are sometimes hauntingly beautiful.

What's Johnny Damon and the Sensational Human Zoo Got to Do With Anything?

I was contemplating heading off to Davenport, Iowa, and my cheap hotel on the waterfront for a sabbatical when I looked at the The Daily Growler blog statistics and was shocked to find during the month of September we got 10,000 hits. PREPOSTEROUS, I screamed into the ether. Then I dove further into the deepest end of this pool of stats, crunched the numbers using what I'd learned in Statistics 101 to come up with the more reasonable figures of the The Daily Growler, those that show per day we're getting an average of 7-12 serious hits.

I went into the blogosphere and out of curiosity visited a niche that informed me on how to get more hits on the The Daily Growler. One guy informed me back telling me to check out the "Key Word" section in my stats. That that would show me the Key Words used in searches that landed viewers on the The Daily Growler. In my Key Word section in my stats, the Key Word that got us the most hits was "Johnny Damon." Next was "Sensational." So, I thought, why not give it a try--I'll title this post, "Johnny Damon and the Sensational Human Zoo." The Human Zoo? Well, look around you, folks. Look at your neighbors. Look at your associates. Look at the people in the street. Watch teevee. Look at our politicians. Look at the world's wealthiest men. I once had a rocker friend, a guitar player, and he put out a cassette tape that had a tune called "The Alien Zoo" on it. Written by my friend, a wonderful young enthusiastic rocker who played an awesome thunderstorming kind of American-boy guitar. Chick from India, a god-damn idol-like beauty, fucked him up big time. Teased his poor old love-songed ass into a binding relationship, ripped him off of all his worldly possessions, and left him flat lost and drifting out in the rock world somewhere. Last I heard from him he was talkin' about toddlin' off to L.A. in pursuit of this exceedingly worth-pursuing vixen of an Indian babe. His song was all about humans in outer space being captured by an alien force out looking for specimens for their zoos.

Fascinating, as Spock would say. I'd certainly give Blanche Lincoln up to aliens for their zoo. Add to her her Arkansas hick male counterpart, too,--he voted with Blanche to make Gays keep hiding the fact that they're Gay while they're in the military with all those macho heteros. I wonder if Blanche ever sucked a boy friend's dick when she was young? Surely she sucked her husband's dick, don't you think? I mean, why can't a Gay man suck his lover's dick same as a hetero woman sucks her lover's dick or her mate's dick? That's a good part of sex, the prelims, accompanied by some cunnilingus, the warming up, the heating up, the hot moments before the action begins. And surely a lot of heave-ho, macho American males have punked their girlfriends and wives and lovers in the ass at least once. Down in Texas when I was a kid, if the Powers That Be caught you buggering your wife, they could send you up the river on sodomy and beastiality charges. Hell, I went to high school with gangly always-older farm boys several of whom bragged about preferring female farm animals to girls. "I got my favorite little gal sheep out thar on the farm. When I need a piece of ass, I don't have to beg my damn human girlfriend...go through that dog and pony shit, I just goes out to the barn, goes into my honey's stall, mounts her, gets me some, cum, get a good long baaaaaaaaa of female delight from my girl, shoulder up my load, and walk away a happy satisfied man, a real man. You know, a female sheep's pussy is as sweet as a young girl's--it's pink, too...and it gets wet." This particular dude who related that expose on farm sex life to me also bragged about breakfast for him and his dad being a big piece of chocolate cake with red kidney beans piled on top of it. This is the same dude who could keep chewing his chaw of tobacky and eat a moon pie or a peanut pattie and drink an RC Cola at the same time. And speaking of who once owned RC Cola, old Art Linkletter, that old codger, just died earlier this year--he was in his 90s. What a life. A Canadian. A lot of Canadians get into our (yes, I'm an ethnocentric) television.

Newt Gingrich, a very strange human-animal hybrid, certainly belongs in the odd-ball section of the alien zoo. Oh my God, these idiots are so scary--they are dividing our country into Idiots versus Idiots--the Teabaggers being showmen--being shock jock imitator people of great ignorant gall. I mean, how can any human being with a little better than a 7th-grade education actually take people like this Christine O'Connell (sic for the moment) woman from Joe Biden's precious Delaware (ruled by the Duponts for the past 100 years) who is campaigning against masturbation? Oh come on! You know my guess? She's a masturbater herself. Oh yeah. She masturbated like a maniac as a young girl and later as a full-hormonally-active adult.

Or, in Connecticut, why in the holiest of unanswerable hells would the wackiest citizens of that weird mixed-bag state (the wealthiest in Greenwich; the poorest in Norfolk and Bridgeport), I mean the lowest end of the intelligence continuum, vote for Linda McMahon? I mean that's Vince McMahon's wife. Vince McMahon has never had to work a fucking day in his life. And look how he's made his millions. Through deceit; through illusions that are fabricated, staged, all pretended--I mean only a small sort-of-retard kid could get panicky and heavy breathing over a rasslin' match. Plus Vince McMahon not that many years ago pretended to have tied his wife up in his Stamford, Connecticut, mansion's basement, drugged her, humiliated her, so he could prance around his little hybrid human-animal zoo empire with some slutty rasslin' babes with whore-like qualities and intentions of sweet romance for the oversteroided Vince.

Ironically, the World Wildlife Federation made Vince change the name of his rasslin' show from World Wrestling Federation to the World Wrestling Entertainment--WWF belonged to the wildlife and not to Vince McMahon. Vince's father, Vince Sr., was once the king of New York City rasslin' fraud, staging his phony bouts in the old Madison Square Garden. I've already written how one of my best high school friend's father was the rasslin' promoter in my hometown and how I used to go to the Sportatorium with my friend and we would get up in the ring and he'd show me the tricks of the trade--like how to pull your punches; how to stomp your foot hard on the canvas when you delivered a phony pulled punch so the dumbass fans would think that was the punch hitting the other oversteroided geek in the puss or the gut. He taught me too where to find where they hid the blood capsules, the various forms of goofer dusts, or razor blades, or metal bars--or where they kept the metal folding chairs under the ring. I even met the rasslers that were working the Texas rasslin' circuit in those days and fought at the Sportatorium: Danny McShane, Bob Geiger, Ivan Kalnikoff the Russian Bear, Terry Funk, Cry Baby Bob Corby (one of my favorites as a kid), Wild Red Berry, Gorgeous George (I once had one of the Gorgeous One's golden bobbie pins he threw into the audience when he'd take them out of his golden locks--let his hair down--before a match), Danny Savage, Chief Jules Strongbow, World Champion Lou Thez, Timmy Geohagen, Man Mountain Dean, the Swedish Angel.... I knew they were all buddies down in the locker room of the Sportatorium where they could be found playing cards together and drinking beer and who knows what else and smoking cigarettes before the matches.

But, hey, good luck to Linda McMahon--she says the government is overtaxing us and is out to crush the middle-class. I wonder who the middle-class is to Linda McMahon? This is a woman who tolerated her husband humiliating not only her in his rasslin' dramas but also his daughter and son, turning them against each other by having them fight over their cut in the World Rasslin' Federation millions to be turned over to them by Daddy Vince on his retirement. Vince McMahon also steroided up into a truly freaky looking man--I mean the steroids flowed like water in the WWF--check out the death lists--every day you see a young rassler having died at 50 or 55 of a heart attack. Several of the very big gigantism dude star rasslers of the past are now dead due to heart attacks and cancers--like Big John Studd, remember him? Dumb, dumb, dumb; yet, Linda McMahon easily won the Repugnican primary with the help of Connecticut teabaggers. Yep, Linda McMahon goes into the alien zoo--hell, throw old Vince and the rest of the family in there, too.

Or how about John Boner--throw him and that DeMinted dude from South Carolina in the freak section of the alien zoo, too. I'd love to capture the whole Bush Family and slap them into that alien zoo under "Defiled Human Monkeys."

How about instead of the alien zoo, we put old Newtie Gingrich in with the monkeys going to the Cancer Research Institute. Yeah, they should use Newt for cancer research while he's in there with all those other research specimen--yeah, infect him with cancer and then see how long his latest wife stays with him--that's the contest. Newt just can't love women who get cancer; let's see if women can love him when he has cancer. I wonder if Newtie's ever had a Gay experience? His sweet lips look as though they could have been wrapped around a...oh, hell, I'm sure Newtie is a quite a man--he doesn't need Viagra, does he?

By the way, speaking of SEX, Doctor Oz, Oprah's Yahoo doctor (she's also responsible for giving us Dr. Phil) says Vitamin D's an aphrodisiac. I once heard Dr. Joyce Brothers, surely no one remembers her (she's currently doing Life Alert commercials on teevee with old Doc Koop), say that coffee was an aphrodisiac. Let's see, say I gulp down 10 Vitamin D tabs and wash 'em all the way down with several slugs of Seattle's Best's strongest bean--then, WOW, holy cats, what to do when the priapus sets in...take on Paris Hilton for a night of double-back beast dancing?

for The Daily Growler

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Attending a Presidential Press Conference As a Mexican Wrestler

Foto by tgw, New York City, 2010
From Washington, the District of Corruption, the White Man's House...
The room is packed with reporters. I'm here in the disguise of a visiting famous Mexican wrestler (Lucha Libre), El Lobo que Gruñe. My friend, and occasional Mexican wrestler, Nino, El Niño Macho, made me up a leather mask, full head type like those guys wear so I could pull off this deceit. As far as the language problem, Mi, no hablo Espanol, I took along Franny & Zoey, The Daily Growler two-headed girl reporter and our new Washington correspondent and coverer of Mexican wrestling (every legitimate news source has to have a Washington correspondent and a coverer of Mexican wrestling, don't they?), as my manager and spokesperson. Both her heads speak excellent Spanish, and, besides, it got her a hell of a lot of personal attention--I mean, how shocking to see a two-headed woman, both heads sporting very pretty faces, a double-dip of feminine pleasure atop a smokin' body--plus she was wearing her most radical of little black dresses--and I must admit that fashion move by women caught my considerable attention and has held it for several decades now--I love my favorite woman in her slickly slinky black dresses--I'm trying to talk hip--I know, I'm a walking obsolescence--especially when it comes to fashion. I'm a bit of a mocker of the fashion world here in New York City, a fashion world of mostly White women (led by sagging and wizened Dianne von Furstenburg and a plasticized new-faced and still aging Vera Wang) and White men (all the men fashion designers are so much alike it's hard to tell one from the other, unless they are Asian and haven't tried to White-ized their faces like Vera Wang has) fops here in NYC trying to declare fashion an art and their silly runway show(off)s as art exhibitions--so they're holding their big to-do New York Fall Show(off) this season at Lincoln Center and they are getting tons and tons of publicity from the commercial as well as public channels--PBS's "Sunday Arts" covering it with a whole special edition devoted to seeing fashion designers as artists--and I give them all a big OOOH-LAH-LAH.

Anyway, here I was, the Wolf Man of The Daily Growler, at a presidential press conference posing as a Mexican wrestler--and soon with my face sweating and itching horribly under the rather hastily made head-tight mask--plus Nino, El Niño Macho, had tied the tie so tight the damn thing was crushing my temples and the tie was at the base of my skull and, dammit, my fiddling with it slipped it out of its bow and into an intricate knot--so there I was in utter misery under that now-stinking mask; yet, for some spiritual reason, I enjoyed the hell out of the pretense. I mean, come on, you talk about pretentious. Look around this White Man's House room here, the Green Room, or whatever color is symbolically given this room--I'm ignorant to the names of the White Man's House rooms--they're all a little too ornate for me--plus I'm thinking as I look at them how slave labor built this White Man's House--and I'm looking around the room enjoying fiddling with the many facial frowns and serious poses and arched-lowered eyebrows, getting to the heart of the matter reporters and teevee folks and hangersons and lobbyists, plus enjoying Franny & Zoey's smell as well as the wonderful sight of her when--BOOM--the Sergeant-at-Arms called us to attention and announced that the President of the Good Ole USA was about to enter the room and deliver a major revelation.

Prior to the President's appearance, the prep people were all hush-hush about what this press event was all about. Robert Gibbs, President Obama's Press Secretary, came out and meekly blabbered to us all on how to react when the President would eventually open up a Q&A time for us--he reminded us over and over that this would transpire after the President had made his revelation, blah, blah, blah--mostly double-speak...but then, damn, he caught me off guard when he matter-of-factly, rather nonchalantly, mentioned me, El Lobo que Gruñe...and, yes, of course, he mispronounced my Mexican wrestling name, at least that's what Franny & Zoey snidely told me on the aside. Then as if to add a little levity to the announcement, after he mispronounced my name, he quipped, "And don't worry, folks, I had Leon Panetta check him out, so I can assure you that El Lobo kay...er-ah, it looks like Grunt, but it's not...well, damn anyway, whatever his nom-bray is, he is legally in this country." It was a quip, and I took it as such, as me the Wolf Man impersonating a Mexican wrestler who was there as a "reporter" representing La Prensa Libre de Tecalitlan. After the hoots and hollers died down, I did get a round of polite applause and I swear I heard a couple of "Viva Mexico"s in the mix. It seemed to be of no surprise to any of my fellow reporters or any of the White Man's House prep cronies like Gibbs that a Mexican wrestler in full regalia--yes, I was wearing tights and a cape--did I forget to mention that?--that a legitimate newspaper, which of course it wasn't, La Prensa Libre de Tecalitlan would hire a Mexican wrestler as a reporter--on deeper investigation they would have found a Wolf in Mexican wrestler clothing.

And soon out came the President. President Barack Hussein Obama...great name for a president, I was thinking, when I noticed his head. Holy cripes, his head was huge, like inflated. What the hell was wrong with the President? Food allergies maybe? Nobody else around seemed bothered by it at all. They were all applauding and big ear-to-ear smiling as he stepped up to the podium.

"I'm clearing the air this morning, guests and guests of guests, members of our vaunted press, hey, I see you Jimmy Carter over there in that corner--what are you gonna write in your diary about me one day?--and, by the way, how dare you slander the name of my pal before he died, Senator Uncle Teddy Kennedy. Come on, give it up for Senator Ted Kennedy! [the room goes wild with whistling, stamping of feet, and chants of "Teddy"] Now, you see, Jimmy--OK, OK, President Carter--now you see why you're not invited or even mentioned anymore at Democratic Party meetings and functions?--it's why I've never invited you to the White Man's House for breakfast or lunch or dinner or anything...sorry, President Carter, but you're just obsolete now. [again the room erupts in applause, some jeering, and a couple of "You the man" heard reverberating hereabouts]. But you do have the right in this great country to write your book and make a little pocket change, right! Come on, Jimmy, you're a millionaire--like me, I'm a millionaire now, you White ba-----, er-ah, whoaaa here, I'm tooting my own horn. But, now seriously, folks, the reason for this revelation. I don't know if you've noticed, but my head is swollen bigger than that old harvest moon that sailed up o'er the Potomac while I was up this morning having a cigarette on one of my balconies up there in the back of this old national symbol here. Watching that big round moon, I got to thinking, full moon, craziness, confessions...and, you see, folks, that's why my head is so damn big this morning."

Then the President did an amazing thing, he reached up to the tip top of his huge pumpkinized head and pulled down a zipper, I swear, and began to open up his giant skull. As the Black hair and skin began parting, suddenly a whiteness appeared coming forth from that head. A whiteness. Then a likeness. Then a visible face appearing, A quaintly familiar face. Then a very familiar face. Holy cripes, it was.... "Hi, y'all." Oh my Jumping Jehovahs, President Obama had somehow unzipped his head and out had popped George W. Bush. "Y'all thought I was down thar in Dall-ass sipping bourbons and branch waters and messin' around with Miss Pickles, didn't cha? And by God due to all these illusions goin' on up heah in the District of Corruption...and, folks, nobody can corrupt things like my fam'ly. Check out my brother Neil's making millions off that Savings & Loan bullshit that happened back--why wasn't there a Democrat president then? You get 'em, Neil. Anyway, y'all thought I was reee-tired--and I was, but I got a new set of some heavy duty treads on my wheels now...." The Bush head suddenly started stuttering and fading out a bit--and then another whiteness started appearing off to the left of President Bush's fading head...like cracking out of an eggshell, a nose was seen, then two huge blue eyes, then that honest forehead...why, Lord Lovah Duck, it was the Slick One appearing, Slick Willie, the Arkansas Hillbilly who made it all the way to Oxford, Lover Boy Bill Clinton. "I had to step into this head and claim my portion of President Obama's decision-making and thinking and direction--you know, like I'm showing him the ropes on how to power and proactively manage his administration into a successful one like mine was. Come on, folks, deregulation was the greatest thing I did for Amuricans, that and my national healthcare plan that my big-butted wife F-ed up, and, hey, how 'bout NAFTA, and, oh yeah, my Patriot Act...?"

The room was suddenly gloomy. What head was coming out of that big pumpkin head next, Ronald Reagan's? And as soon as I thought that, sure enough, out it came, a face that looked like a badly made Halloween mask. "Howdy partners, I don't know who I am, but Mommy, and man is her face and body headed for the floor, she looks more wrinkled than I do, whoever I am...er-ah, Mommy told me I could fly from this place wherever this is to Tokyo wherever that is in 3 and a half hours. Would you please pass me that jar of jelly beans?"

I thought I was going to be the pretentious star of that show, but, no, President Barack Obama had stolen the show with his multi-personality performance.

Then the giant head began to reclose back onto its original Obama head. After it closed back up, it then shrunk down gradually to become the regular old President Barack Obama head.

"I'm revealing all these sides of my presidential personality to make this point. I don't know what the hell I'm doing; I'm being advised by a bunch of criminals--and yes I did fire Larry Summers much to Slick Willie's bitching, but not to worry, my Wall Street brothers and sisters, I'm going to replace Larry with a worse Wall Street schemer than Larry could ever hope to be, the Queen of the Hedge Funders, ex-D.E. Shaw lobbyist and former CEO of Xerox, remember them?, Anne Mulcahey, a tough Americo-Irish babe...so what she worked for the same hedge fund old Larry Summers made 5 million off of while he was still making 600,000-a-year advising me to flush our economy down the toilet. Anne will give me the same advice but at least I won't have Wall Street not supporting me when I run in 2012. I mean, come on, folks, Wall Street gave me a half-a-billion bucks to help me jive my way into this White Man's House. I can't buck those White boys, so, hey, I'll trade 'em Anne Mulcahey for Elizabeth Warren, though they don't have to worry really about Elizabeth. She talks tough but she's not gonna rock the boat, don't worry. Now I've got a Mexican rasslin' match to go watch."

With that, President Obama turned and walked away. Though I hadn't really caught that last sentence he'd said 'fore he walked away, I did notice and pointed it out to the surrounding crowd the sprig of mistletoe hanging off his coattail. I remember Pigmeat Markham had a routine where he was a preacher and he was giving his last sermon and in the sermon he was saying, "And you, Sister Willie Mae, you think you so fine, backbitin' and rumormongerin' while your husband, Old Deacon Jones over there sittin' so smug, is messin' 'round behind the baptistry with that cute little choir gal all the men around here got a thing on for...and as for you, Sister Maddie Rose, you two-timing..." And Pigmeat went on and on like that until he got to the end of the routine, the punchline, which was, "And now, my sisters and brothers, I do leave this here pulpit and walk up the aisle and out the front door for the last time. And as I'm walking by your pew, please notice this sprig of mistletoe I have pinned to my coattail. That simply means, you all can kiss my black ass."

Hmmmm, I thought, this Obama does have a sense of humor at least. My thoughts were interrupted by, "What the hell did President Obama say about attending a Mexican wrestling match!" Franny & Zoey, sensing me going off, and in English and loudly, to boot, rushed up to me, both heads talking excitedly at the same time, "Wolfie, we're sorry...we didn't know, but it seems you're contracted to put on a Mexican wrestling demonstration for the President in a special ring set up in the Rose Garden. You're fighting, let me see here, I wrote it down, you're fighting El Gallo Grande the current reigning Lucha Libre champion of all Mexico...it says here he sent his last opponent to the hospital with six broken bones and a concussion...sorry, Wolfie."

I excused myself to go to the restroom where I've decided to hide out in contemplation until I figure the coast is clear. I'm still sitting here--typing this on my Blackberry. By the bye, what day is this?

La Prensa Libre de Tecalitlan, actually The Daily Growler

Monday, September 20, 2010

thegrowlingwolf Reminiscing on "A Mother Cow to Her Young One Said"

Foto by tgw, New York City, 2010
Star Brand Shoes
"A mother cow to her young one said/It's come your time, you'll soon be dead/But cheer up, Chile, and don't be blue/'Cause they'll use your hide on a Star Brand shoe." Yes, I believe it was a real advertisement at one time...in my father's time. That's where I heard it as a kid. From my father. I got to where I could even tell at what point in an evening's fun it was coming. Like when he was happy or say relatives dropped in from out of town late at night and we all stayed up talking and quipping and questioning and gossiping and blaming and becoming disgusted...and if the conversation turned too morbid, up would pop my father with, "As the mother cow to her young one said...." In my lifetime, however, I've never seen a Star Brand shoe.
Image courtesy www.bargainjohn.com
This is one of the only Star Brand Shoes ad signs I found via Googling the name. This is a metal sign that was sold on Bargain John's Website. And yes a lot of old White folks advertising played on the Black stereotype--in the above sign there's the "shine" telling the White man that, "Yes sah! Star Brand Shoes are better!" The White ad writer that wrote that tag at least didn't have the "shine" use the wrong tense of the verb "to be." And is that "shine" shooting that White man the bird? It's bad enough if he's just pointing his finger at the White man. Was that allowed in those days? Could a Black man (or boy) make a point by pointing his finger at a White man? I'm sure he damn sure didn't with intelligence shoot the bird to a White man in those days. Anyway, hell yes, if a White man wanted to know what the better shoe was he'd trust the shoe-shine boy--and they were boys. Even the White shines were boys in my time. I had several friends who shined shoes in barber shops during their summer vacations--some even working during the school year after school and all day Saturdays, the busiest days. One of the funnest things I loved to do when I was a little jive rascal of a runabout-town kid was to go down to the Texas & Pacific Railroad station platform and watch Jimmy Shine shine shoes. He made music with his shoe shine rag as he shined the White man's shoes--if a woman dared to want him to shine her shoes, he'd have her take her shoes off and hand them to him--you can figure out why. Jimmy when he had that rag a singing, kept a nice fast 8/8 tempo goin', poppin' fresh and hittin' the ones and the threes right with hard quarter note pops, stringing some soft wap pops in between. Jimmy Shine being a rag master--could that be where rag came from?--could wap pop 32nd notes with his special rag he called "Mama"--"Listen to Mama call that train...." And Jimmy would let go a soft low moaning train whistle, a far off whistle, shown coming by the extending wap pops and quarter-note pops from a low clippity clop to evolve as the train got closer into whip outs of rag slides that sounded like steam, then he'd let go another moaning train whistle..."Whooooooooooooo...get ready...it's a comin'...you'll git on board with yore shoes in travelin' shape." Then the customer got up off Jimmy's shine box and flipped him a nickel...or a dime if it were a rich Mr. Charley...just in time as the train came wailing in from the East or the West. "When the ladies ast you'all where you got dem shoes shined, you tell 'em Jimmy Shine from up and down the line." But don't get me wrong. Though Jimmy drew large crowds and I assume made pretty good money for a Black man in those days, still he was having to jive ass to soothe the White man's fears of Blacks. Plus, Jimmy attracted a lot of White women, some of whom loved to shake the shim-sham-shimmy to Jimmy's shining--and Jimmy was always full of smiles and encouragements, "Yes, ladies, step off to Jimmy's rag while he's makin' your man's shoes shine like yore favorite mirror."

And, yes, I grew up in Texas at a time right after World War II. I grew up at a time where young White boys and girls were becoming aware of Black music, especially country blues and what we called Rock 'n Roll, which we got from the old blues that were about how to fornicate--to do it right the man has to know how to ride like a jockey, which is a rockin' and rollin' process. This music was to lead us out of the deepest blues, the blues of being oppressed and depressed by circumstances--the only freedom coming like on Friday nights after work...on Saturday nights, the really truly free night for the oppressed when they can take those paychecks, cash 'em in, and head for the joints, head for dance halls, the drinkin' establishments, the places where the music offers up a chance to get up on a dance floor and let it all out--go wild--shake that thing--flipping out those fancy shoes in footsteps trying to chase away the blues--and the women dressed all loose and nice and workin' up those love sweats--and soon the rockin' is heavy and the hips are rollin' and it's all in the hips. IT'S ALL IN THE HIPS. The hip know how to use the hips--like when you walk, or how to cock them when you talk, or how to moon with them when you're takin' a woof ticket out on somebody's jivin' ass. But it was still not easy for Blacks...but, dammit, it was freein' up. My generation were nonconformists, which meant we rebelled against everything the old folks had shoved down our asses. Like segregation. I mean we saw through the ignorance, the unfairness, the hypocrisy of segregation. Besides the Blacks were the coolest people on our stolen earth--their music, their styles, their dances, their jive, the skills, plus their wit was of the sharpest. I listen still to Chuck Berry's songs for the lyrics. Chuck could handle lyrics with such subtle wit. And I could stand up and holler, White rock 'n roll was heavily influenced by Chuck Berry and his songs and his style and his wild, wide-open, free lifestyle, but oh what music, ancient music, Chuck had in him...growing up in Saint Louis...and you talk about tough...but you talk about fun if you dared to defy the segregationists and mix.... Mixing was so important to my generation of Whites. We followed the Beats--and we knew Ted Joans and Beauford Delaney and Leroi Jones and Romare Bearden and James Earl Jones and Harry Bellafonte (Harry was a winner of the Birdland contest for new entertainers to work at Birdland--and Harry worked with Bird, Diz, one night) and our jazz gurus and mentors and reverends and priests and kings and counts and dukes and earls were all Blacks...for me at least...I got so into Black music and culture, I wouldn't listen to White guys--and that included some good ones, too, like Stan Getz, Zoot Sims, Al Cohn, Kai Winding...though later I was forced to include them when I found out they were into Black music and culture same as me and in fact were closer to it than I was, so I started diggin' the White dudes...though some of them pissed me off 'cause they wouldn't use Blacks in their bands, like Woody Herman...like Brubeck at first, until he did finally hire Joe Benjamin...though in return, the good Black bands didn't have White guys in them. The first White guy I remember seeing playing with Duke was Jeff Castleman, a young White bass player.
A Painting by Beauford Delaney

Have we come very far since those days? I'm sure in terms of shoe fashion and comfort perhaps but in terms of race relations? That I wonder about.

for The Daily Growler

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

thegrowlingwolf Going Against the Pricks

Foto by tgw, "It's Downhill From Here On," New York City 2010
Ah Wilderness! As the Tea Baggers Want to Take Us Deeper Into the Forest
On my HD teevee I get an extra channel from the Warner Bros. folks that is a dumping ground for all the old United Artists/ZIV/MGM teevee shows like "Sea Hunt," "Mr. Ed," "The Outer Limits," and "The Patty Duke Show." These are shows produced from 1960 until 1965 or so, and were the last of the old black & white shows just prior to the advent of color television. The other morning on an episode of "The Patty Duke Show" it seems Patty through one of her "wacky teenage" schemes got a local Brooklyn Heights politician in a bit of hot water at the height of his reelection campaign. The politician came to see Patty and her parents (Patty's father was played by William Shallert who just died this year (2010) at 90). The first thing the politician said on confronting them on the matter was "I'm in a lot of trouble thanks to Patty. Why those radical Tea Party people are threatening to throw me in the Harbor over this."

"The Patty Duke Show" in question was filmed in 1964. The 1964 Presidential Election featured Lyndon "Big Balls" Johnson (the Veep when JFK got offed by a conspiracy, some claim, comprising the CIA, the FBI, the Mafia, and G.W. H. "Pappy" Bush, who some swore was in Dallas on that fateful day) and Barry "In Your Heart You Know He's Right" Goldwater. This was a big Liberal vs. Conservative showdown. It was right in the middle of two disturbing to the ruling White Majority happenings (including the same old Power Elites whose heirs are around today): The first happening was our vaunted armed forces rigged with all the latest hi-tech war toys (remember Robert McNamara's famous electronic perimeter scheme--check out how many millions of dollars were wasted on that fantastic scheme--AND YOU NOTICE I'M USING THE WORD "SCHEME" QUITE A LOT IN THIS EXCLUSIVE DIATRIBE!) were getting their asses kicked by a bunch of pajama-wearing Gooks we tagged the V. C. ("Victor Charlie" to an Morse-code-trained Army man), short for Vietcong.

[A long interruption (this can be skipped): Of course, the Vietcong weren't the general enemy for the US in Vietnam. They were one of three enemies we had there, including Uncle Ho's People's Army headquartered in Hanoi, the Commie Chinese Army, and the Vietcong. The US claimed the Cong was an insurgent arm of Hanoi and the People's Army while Hanoi claimed the Cong were actually South Vietnamese rebels. It was the Cong--they worked out of Cambodia and the mountains of the South--who pulled off the surprise Tet Offensive, the Tet holiday attack on Saigon that finally drove the US Armed Forces turntail in defeat out of their homeland, which had never known any true independence being colonized early as they were by the French, whose fop generals and diplomats and businessmen turned Saigon into the "Paris of the Orient"--remember when we called Asians Orientals? Let's see, seems like it's alright to use racist slang during a Holy Wars. In WWII it was OK to call the Nazis "Krauts" and "Jerries" and the Japanese "Japs" and "Nips"; during the Korean War it was OK to call the Koreans "Slopes" and "Slants"; and during the Vietnamese folly it was OK to call the Vietnamese "Gooks" (a term I believe was first used by US Marines against the Filipinos in the 1920s). And we've always called the Chinese "Chinks," a derogatory word still in common-everyday use when I arrived in New York City in the early 70s. "Hey, let's go to the chinks for lunch." Ironically, my best friend in NYC for years, until his untimely death, was a Black photographer who had been born and raised in Lower Manhattan down on Cherry Street in the projects under the Brooklyn Bridge adjacent to Chinatown. "The chink gangs were we Black guys's major enemies. They treated us worse than the kikies and the micks." Yet if a Chinese person or a Jewish person or an Irish person called my friend a nigger, he was on their ass with all four feet and his oo7 without a preamble. Our pal, L Hat at www.languagehat.com recently ran a post in which he was asking if ever a derogatory slang word, in this case "Gyp" for Gypsy, could be incorporated so into regular language usage that it eventually lost its racist connotation. "Come on, Mr. Salesman, I know a gyp when I see one"--meaning paying that much for what a saleman is trying to sell is a bad deal--to take it would mean you were getting "gyped." As a result of L Hat's post, he got a brace of comments that mostly said, no, "Gyp" is still a derogatory term that should never be accepted as a decent word in terms of common usage in any language. I believe the French call Gypsies "Romas."]

The second happening in 1964 that was upsetting the White majority was the apparent success of the Civil Rights Movement and Johnson's pushing the Civil Rights Bill toward its eventual passage. Truman's integrating the US Army had caused Strom Thurmond and his Racist Dixiecrats to pull out of the 1948 Democratic Convention and form their own party with Good Ole Boy Strom "I Got a Kneegrow Daughter" Thurmond as their presidential candidate--the man the great American Mississippi Patriot and Humanitarian Trent Lott said that today we'd be better off if he'd'a been elected president back then. I give a big YAHOO to that idiotic suggestion--you tell 'em Trent. The Dixiecrat Party was the racist move by Southern Democrats that eventually led to the Racist Conservative takeover of the Repugnican Party who got Dwight David "I Love Playing Golf Better Than Being President" Eisenhower (these turncoats called themselves "Dem-IKE-crats") and Richard Nixon (a California whack job) elected in 1952 over sophisticated hypocrite Adlai Stephenson--like Obama, a creature of Chicago and Illinois politics. These racist Democrats switching to the Repugnican Party saw the first ever Repugnicans elected to state and national offices in all the Southern Racist States since Reconstruction Black Republicans were elected to office Down South after the Civil War when the racists were Democrats! Oh yeah, that's how fucked up our political institutions are. They are obsolete, of course. And so's our Constitution. Obsolete. And obsolescence is the main reason for Conservatives--the laissez faire--anti-change--anti-progressive. Conservatives and especially the Conservative nutjob radicals will stand and die for obsolescence.

The result of the 1964 election was a huge landslide win for Johnson and the Democrats, the largest landslide win in the history of US presidential elections (yes, I'm sure it had something to do with JFK being assassinated in November of 1963)--totally wiping out the Conservative opposition to the point the pundits of the day were talking about the Repugnican Party maybe being put out of business the Dumbocratic victory was so impressive.

Since all Conservative bullshit has always seemed to boil up out of California politics, it's no surprise to find that the John Birch Society, the original rightwing nutjob branch of the Conservative movement, was started in Orange County, California, the county just south of L.A. County, whose seat of county government is Anaheim and whose main juvenile-fun attraction is DisneyLand--a rightwing "fantasy" enterprise that has risen to its current cartoon-market domination--to the point Disney now not only owns ABC but it controls Broadway shows here in New York City through its Show Production division, that which gave us the current longest-running hype job on Broadway, "The Lion King," a White concept of Disney-invented African legends. In all of Disney's cartoon-movies (now called animated movies), the anthropomorphized characters are subservient to kings and queens and princesses and princes--some of those human-animal hybrids George W. Bush, our never-elected most criminal and murderous president yet, used to talk about in terms of stem-cell research ("Messin' with God's perfect creations")--Spoiled-brat Bush, a man who to this day runs around FREE as a bird--a man who through his follies led us into 2 unwinable wars and drove us down into a 3 trillion dollar (grave-like) debt--a debt the Teabagger assholes are now blaming on honestly elected President Obama--the FIRST BLACK PRESIDENT ever--the first Kneegrow President of a United States that population experts say by 2050 will be a "Brown" nation--which means, according to White racist logic (Tea Party logic), that the White Man's America will be taken over by Browns, i.e., CATHOLICS...Latinos...Mexicans (Whites in Texas, Arizona, and California have called them "Wetbacks," "Messkins," "Pepper Bellies," "Spics," "Pachucos," and "Braceros"), Central Americans--like Guatamalans, Hondurans, and El Salvadorans--and South Americans--like Colombians, Brazilians, Ecuadorans.

I have always said that I can't see my people, White People (the Power Elite in this country is all White--mostly White US Males--though it is ironic that the world's richest individual, Senor Slim, is a Mexican!), giving up their ruling powers without a ferocious battle. I believe this country will divide in half before it becomes a Brown Nation. And certainly before it becomes a Black Nation. I don't see enough union among Brown peoples for them ever to vote as a bloc--I mean, come on, Puerto Ricans and Cubans and Mexicans don't really get along, though they do share a lot of culture. Also, how well do the Latinos and Blacks get along? I was taught in grade school Civics that the United States was a melting pot culture. That impressed me. Of course, the White concept of that melting pot meant only certain ethnics were considered right for the mix. At the time of the founding of this country...well, then we all know the truth about that, don't we?

These Teabaggers are openly racist, in the true wiseguy White people sense of the term. If there are Blacks in the Tea Party, they are definitely not normal Blacks--what Black person in this country is an honest Conservative in the White sense of the term? What Black person in this country would welcome a return to slavery? The basis of Conservative philosophy is cheap labor for White industry--and since they are also "strict Constitutionalists" it means they consider Black Americans still as only 1/5th human beings.

I notice a lot of these upsurging Teabaggers are wacky babes, like in New Hampshire; like in Nevada; like in California; like in Arizona; like in Alaska--ex-executive babes some of them--all of them strong advocates of Sarah Palin's off-the-wall prescriptions for her kind of USA.

You can relate this Teabagger movement to the Reagan movement back in the sixties when the State of California, one of our dumbest states in the Union, elected second-rate actor Ronald Reagan as its governor. At first the mainstream Repugnicans, they called themselves "moderate" Repugnicans then, were searching for a middle-of-the-road way of countering the Dumbocratic landslide that put Lyndon "Big Balls" Johnson in the White Man's House and gave the Dumbocrats 4 years of domestic progress but foreign disaster--the domestic progress coming via Johnson's Great Society movement.

The first thing the middle-of-the-road Repugs did was start castigating the Goldwater-Conservative connection and trying to get the party to reject those kind of Hollywood Conservatives, whose next assault would come after Jimmy Carter whipped middle-of-the-roader Gerald R. "To Chew Gum or Walk" Ford in 1976--our Bicentennial year--in fact, Jimmy trounced Jerry pretty badly. [I insert a question here: Why is there a Gerald R. Ford Amphitheater in Aspen, Colorado?][Also, another question, when is the George W. Bush Library going to be built by We the People?] Then Jimmy Carter fucked up and was blamed for the Iran hostage situation and an embarrassing bungled attempt at a military rescue of those Embassy folk--we've probably forgotten that incident by now. I remember all the anti-Iran bullshit that went on in those years--like signs in deli windows saying they didn't sell Iranian products--or Middle-Eastern-looking business owners with signs saying "We Are Not Iranians Here." It was in the 1980 election that the Repugs caved in and let Ronald "Raygun" Reagan and George H.W. "Pappy" Bush take over the middle-of-the-roaders and trounced them out of favor in favor of Bush-baby rightwing Neo-Cons from the University of Chicago--why Reagan Conservatives pissed off old moderate asshole Nelson Rockefeller so much he shot 'em the bird while on the floor of the House. And, by God, Reagan and the John Bircher Conservatives bullshitted their ways into the White Man's House--and horribly by a larger margin than Big Balls Johnson had beat Barry "I Like to Dress Up Like an Injun and Do War Dances" Goldwater. [There's a Goldwater relative currently advertising his law practice on national television--he's fishing for medical malpractice suits--his office address is Phoenix, Arizona, so you know he's one of Barry's kin.]

So We the People rushed Ronald Reagan into office and from then on We the People have been paying the consequences. Conservatism doesn't work. It's whole effort is to put a cap on the common man's standard of living, to drive it down, to drive down the economy, to drive down the dollar, all in favor of corporatist practices and executive orders meant to move the wealth out of the Commonwealth (New York State is a Commonwealth) and into the Private Wealth--INDIVIDUAL WEALTH, which is the reason we are now becoming a Plutocracy, which means anyone making less than $200,000-a-year is considered Lower Class. Veblen called the Lower Class our Primitives; he called the Leisure Class (the Power Elite) our Predators. As Primitives, the Lower Class is considered to be reverting to barbarism, while the Leisure Class (the Predators) is chauvinistically patriotic and socially respectable. Veblen taught us back in 1899 that the "office" of the Leisure Class "in social evolution is to retard the movement and to conserve what is obsolescent" [page 137, The Theory of the Leisure Class, 1963 Mentor Books edition].

The Teabagging Tea Partiers are simply disruptive fools. They supposedly model themselves, the same as the Tea Partiers mentioned in that 1964 episode of "The Patty Duke Show," after the Boston Tea Party patriots--White aristocrats who dressed up as Native Americans...but, you know that story. It was all about being overtaxed by the King of England, the crazy idiot fop George the III. Ever since then aristocratic Whites have been opposed to taxes on themselves--taxes are for the Lower Class--today's Consumers.

I find the Teabaggers cartoon funny. As though they are created in the Disney animation studios in Taiwan or wherever they are these days. I know "The Simpsons" is drawn and animated in Taiwan. The Teabaggers are jokes, but they are deadly jokes. They are White jokes. They are spoilers not serious contenders. Of course, they are highly promoted by our corporate media--CBS, owned by Hollywood's Paramount (formerly Pictures) Industries; NBC, owned by General Electric (now teaching nuclear secrets to the Indians (India Indians)--remember, George W. Bush traded nuclear secrets to India for their mangoes?); ABC is owned by Disney; and Fox is owned by Aussie asshole Rupert Murdoch. No chance at any truth in any form getting through those commercial-corporate media.

We are the world's leading weapons of mass destruction producers; we are the world's largest weapons dealers; we are the world's greatest wasters of natural resources; we have been involved in wars since the White Man first landed on this Red Man's land and started aristocratically claiming it for his own. Every ten years we go to some kind of war. Wars with England and France and Native Americans and Mexico. Even a big bad war amongst ourselves. Then a war with Spain over the phony battleship Maine fiasco. Then invasions of Central America...the Philippines...occupation forces in China, Japan, South Vietnam, South Korea--WARS--wars to end all wars and then more wars--a couple of real big-deal World Wars--and then Truman and his Atomic bombings ("Hey, those bombs only killed 300,000 Nips--but look at the American lives it saved--and after all, how do you compare one saved American life to the loss of 300,000 worthless evil Godless Japs?") and his police action in Korea--and then the Vietnam War--and on and on it goes.

There is not much PEACE in our history. I was born during World War II. I remember clearly the Atomic Bomb--I recall the Trinity site test--I recall the famous blowing up of Bikini Island in the South Pacific with an Atomic Bomb! Why it was the United States of America that brought all those Euro-trash scientists to this country for the Manhattan Project. We invented the nuclear bomb! And then after WWII, we smuggled in top Nazi scientists, especially top-dog Nazi weapons of mass destruction designer Werner Von Braun--who later headed NASA--our space program--and the NASA headquarters in Huntsville, Alabama, is named for him. Without Nazi scientists, we couldn't have gone to the Moon. How hypocritical is all this! We are an obsolete nation of hypocrites. We don't practice what we preach, not even our Christian religion practices what it preaches--"Peace on Earth and Good Will Toward Men"--"fuck Women," I assume. Remember, this male-ruled nation couldn't even pass an Equal Rights Amendment. Remember when the Conservatives were saying the Equal Rights Amendment was against America ideals and would lead to such anti-American institutions as Femism, legalized prostitution, women rushing out to get abortions, Lesbianism, Amazonia?--to Conservative males women belong in the kitchen, the bedroom (naked and waiting in bed), and the maternity ward at the local hospital!

These other-side-of-the-coin assholes have always been around (remember, there's two sides to every problem). Think about it, the Conservative Republican Corporatists Plutocrats have been in control of our political institutions for most of the 20th Century and now through most of the 21st Century. One might could opine that this country is naturally a RIGHTWING NUTJOB nation. At least the country is split 50-50. So go on and ignore these idiots and maybe soon you'll look up and President Sarah Palin will be giving her inaugural address--along with her running mate--how 'bout Joe LIEberman as her main squeeze running mate--he seems to be one of those full-blooded Americans who gets a bone on when he thinks about bangin' Sarah. Me, I say she's lousy in bed, though her daughter seems to have inherited her nymphomania from somewhere. [I know, ladies, there's no such thing as nymphomania, but, hey, I'm just goin' along with the flow.]

for The Daily Growler

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Living in New York City on 9/11 Memorial Day

A Real Estate "Drooler's Delight" and Future NYC Tourist Attraction, the Divinely Inspired FREEDOM TOWER and Its Surrounding Capitalist Monuments
1. the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint.
2. exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.
3. the power to determine action without restraint.
4. political or national independence.
5. personal liberty, as opposed to bondage or slavery: a slave who bought his freedom.
6. exemption from the presence of anything specified (usually fol. by from ):freedom from fear.
7. the absence of or release from ties, obligations, etc.
8. ease or facility of movement or action: to enjoy the freedom of living in the country.
9. frankness of manner or speech.
10. general exemption or immunity: freedom from taxation.
11. the absence of ceremony or reserve.
12. a liberty taken.
13. a particular immunity or privilege enjoyed, as by a city or corporation: freedom to levy taxes.
14. civil liberty, as opposed to subjection to an arbitrary or despotic government.
15. the right to enjoy all the privileges or special rights of citizenship, membership, etc., in a community or the like.
16. the right to frequent, enjoy, or use at will: to have the freedom of a friend's library.
17. Philosophy. the power to exercise choice and make decisions without constraint from within or without; autonomy; self-determination.

Check out how many of the above 17 definitions of the noun FREEDOM apply to the FREEDOMS for which over 5,500 young dumbass just-out-of-high-school kids, some of them Muslims, have given their lives and many thousands more have given their limbs and mental stability defending in these two monumentally fraudulent monumental wars We the People of the USA were executively ordered into by the weakest son of a wimp of an ex-president, G.W. Bush--our first-ever president appointed by the U.S. Supreme(ly Unbalanced) Court? What FREEDOMS does this eyesore, this sign of Capitalist greed "Freedom" Tower represent in terms of We the People of the USA (that includes Muslims and Jains and Snake Handlers and Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses, and Hindus and Shinto Buddhists and Taoists and Penitentes and Atheists and Whirling Dervishes and Satan Worshipers and Faith Healers and Foot Fetishers)? They are pouring billions of boondoggle bucks, most of them We the People's money, into the building of this gaudy oversize superPENIS of a building--yeah, THAT'S IT! This supertacky Freedom Tower is a monument to our Global Corporations's, individuals according to our Supreme(ly anti-Democratic) Court, huge Capitalist Cock fully erected to a height longer and harder up into the vagina of the heavens than the Holy Cock of the Great White Christian God who was behind the founding of this GREAT WHITE CHRISTIAN NATION...

....'scuse me while I throw up. And the ballyhoo down at Ground Zero today was such an embarrassment.

Like let's check and see if Freedom definition #1
is one of these precious freedoms worth our young people dying for: "1.
the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint -- this covers "innocent until proven guilty" or also freedom from the cops or the CIA or the FBI or Homeland Security or the NIS or the DEA blowing down your door and seizing you and throwing you on a private-contractor airplane and flying your startled ass off to Syria where a bunch of Arab dogs will torture you until you admit you are a terrorist working for, of course, al-Queda. Or maybe you'll be sent to the democratic nation of Morocco for a little brand of Northern African torture--and, yes, Moroccans are Muslims, too, so you'll be tortured by your own kind working hand-in-hand with your absolutely Number One heretical enemy, the USA. Think about that! Ain't that quaint? We send our suspected Muslim terrorists to Muslim countries to be tortured into admitting they're Muslim terrorists. How weird is that? How blatantly stupid is that in the face of LOGIC?

So here in New York City on this 9th 9/11 Memorial Day, as beautiful a day as the original 9/11 was here in the Big Apple, we honored those 3,000 who died during 9/11--all of whom died because of the double-evil side of a big-time evil antiChrist religion trying to DENY WE the TRUE PEOPLE of the USA OUR FREEDOMS--a monument to the FREEDOMS guaranteed us under our Capitalist-White Christian Constitution.

Plus it's a coming tourist attraction and perhaps will be managed by the very patriotic and bastion of corporate freedoms, the Disney Corporation. Can't you just see Mickey and Minnie stuffed-animal characters wearing their U.S. Army uniforms as they relate electronically the TRUE HISTORY of 9/11. Maybe have a very serious Goofy orating that Disneyfied retelling of that anti-Christian Day the Islamics tried to steal our Freedoms out from under us.

And who are the tenants who have already signed up to spend millions of dollars a square foot for office space in the Freedom Tower, if it's ever completed? One of them, insultingly, is one of our too big to fail banks, the Bank of America (check out their checkered past) but the big-boy tenant, the tenant with the biggest cock and balls, the tenant taking the largest space is the largest real estate investment firm in Communist "Capitalist" China. You bet. A Beijing real estate investment firm is opening its US headquarters in our FREEDOM TOWER.

And the Freedom Tower is a commercial real estate adventure, folks. You have to always keep that in mind as you hear all the ballyhooing going on about the Moose-limbs building an Anti-Christ mosque two blocks away from that halo-ed White Christian Ground Zero, that Holy American Christian soil. Where 3,000 White Christian Patriotic Americans were killed by Moose-limb-towelheaded Anti-Christ terrorists.... Whoaaa...my growling is feeling like I'm spitting into the wind. We the People of the USA are HYPOCRITES! We are the world's greatest terrorists--and we are especially good at terrorizing OURSELVES. Bend over, Patriots, you're fixin' to have a big Capitalist cock in the shape of the Freedom Tower shoved up your gullible and already sore ass.

for The 9/11 Edition of The Daily Growler