INSIDE OUT UPSIDE DOWN ON A SUNDAY AFTERNOON

 By Sarahi

What’s our Fate?

A Mandate?

A Tax?

Or Rebate?

Candy is sweet,

But not some meat.

If a crook is a crook,

Is a book just a book?

Mitt Romney isn’t any commie,

But Obama isn’t a zombie.

If what goes up must come down,

Does what come down have to go up?

Football isn’t basketball,

Golf isn’t soccer.

Halloween isn’t Easter,

Christmas isn’t either.

Bees are better than fleas,

Pies are better than ties.

None of this makes any sense,

But neither does politics!

 

IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES! 

RAIN SUPERSYMMETRY AND 125.3 BILLION ELECTRON VOLTS

Along the way the Higgs boson achieved a notoriety rare for abstract physics. To the eternal dismay of his colleagues, Leon Lederman, the former director of Fermilab, called it the “God particle,” in his book of the same name, later quipping that he had wanted to call it “the goddamn particle.”

***

July 4, 2012.

It’s about to rain in this “Sun City”.

I’ve been listening to rain songs, between eating this and that, and watching the news about forest fires, the weather, war, and something called the God Particle.

Scientists believe that they have caught the falling star (wrong metaphor, but it sounded good) that will tell them how the universe got started, but they should probably devote more time to figuring out how to slow down the universe’s demise.

Of course, this is hyperbole de moi.

Neither political party, nor any nation, has the power to kill the universe, let alone a galaxy; but Earth is on the chopping block.

Here are just a few threats:

Climate change.

Drones.

Charlie Sheen.

Face-eating cannibals.

Asteroids.

Madonna.

Nuclear disasters (of peace and war).

And last but not least: 

Extraterrestrials!

Please forward some of your own threats…before it’s too late.

IT’S THE OIL STUPID!

THE SEVERELY CONSERVATIVE ETCH-A-SKETCH DOG TORTURER

The GOP needs to set aside some of those multi-millions that are coming in every hour, and purchase a gigantic etch-a-sketch.

Mitt the dog torturer will need it.

He’s etching and sketching and erasing as fast as those millions accrue.

Romney---and his fans and shills---will be eating more and more crow as Mitt the dog torturer continues to etch and erase, thereby evoking the rational (and undecided) regions of America to retch more and more while reproaching the antics of this quasi-handsome candidate, as fickle fingers continue to etch, sketch, and erase.

Forward, Obama, forward!

IT’S THE OIL STUPID!

CANNABIS AND CANNIBALS

Rudy Eugene and Ronald Poppo. Poppo survived the attack, but had one eye gouged out and may be blind in the other. Photograph: Reuters

Marijuana is a lot stronger today than it was yesterday.

  Caveat Cannabis to all present (and future) potheads!

That dopey, dazed dude who devoured the devil out of that other dude’s face in Florida wasn’t high on anything but Miss Mary Jane’s Loco Weed.

Or so it was reported as such in the guardian.co.uk, Wednesday 27 June 2012:

 Miami face-chewing attack: no bath salts found in Rudy Eugene's system

Tests show Eugene, who was shot dead by police after ignoring orders to stop attacking Ronald Poppo, had marijuana in system. 

A medical examiner has ruled that marijuana was the only drug in the system of the Florida man shot dead while "eating" another man's face.
The Miami-Dade County medical examiner released the results of toxicology tests on 31-year-old Rudy Eugene on Wednesday. The tests found marijuana in his system, but no other street drugs, alcohol or prescription drugs.
Eugene was shot dead by police as he chewed on Ronald Poppo's face beside a busy highway in full daylight. In the aftermath of the attack Eugene was widely reported to have ingested a drug known as "bath salts", spawning a wave of media interest in the substance.
However the lab tests appear to have rendered the hysteria redundant, after the medical examiner's department ruling out the most common components of bath salts. An outside forensic toxicology lab also confirmed the results.

But this all sounds like one more false flag fandango.

Perhaps it’s just the PharmaFascists still trying to wean folks off of the pot, or scaring everyone else who haven’t gotten stoned yet (which is not many) to not do so.

  I got off of the pot (and now spend a lot of time on the porcelain kind) many, many years ago.

I’m not opposed to domestic legalization of the giggle weed.

Nevertheless, sure as Dick Cheney shooting a lawyer, or knocking down skyscrapers, the recent bizarre devouring of a human visage was not because of new and improved LSD or bath salts.

  But all of you knew this.

Nor was it some insidious, biological/genetic concoction that accidentally fell out of a flask inside a laboratory.

Or some experiment gone wrong.

No, potheads and fellow citizens, this cannibalistic calamity was engendered by wacky tobacky.

It’s the Establishment’s admonition to STAY OFF OF THE GRASS, or you, too, might wolf down someone’s pretty face.   

IT’S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES!

NOT BUSH’S BRAIN ON A SPIKE

A screenshot from the Game of Thrones episode "Fire and Blood," and a photo of President George W. Bush, from 2011. (HBO and Jae C. Hong/UPI)

GWB:

Rove, what’s the deal with my cabeza stuck on that stick?

KR:

Mr. President, that wasn’t a stick, but a spike.

GWB:

 O.K., but a turd by any other name is still a turd, right?

KR:

 I suppose so sir, but please don’t say turd without a blossom.

GWB:

 Oh, right, sorry turd blossom.  Hold on Rove, Cheney just sent me a quack…I mean a tweet.

KR:

 What did he tweet?

GWB:  

 George, you look pretty handsome without your body!

KR:

How awful!  But that’s better than your heart stuck on some pole, like Dick’s might be.  Anyway, it’s my brain, not yours.

GWB:

 Not any more.  That was then, this is now.   So Karl, what can be done about my head on that stick…I mean spike? 

KR: 
Not much, sir.  I’m too busy working on Romney’s run on the White House.  Just avoid being out in the public eye.  Don’t hang out under any trees.  DON’T LEAVE THE COUNTRY!  You can't put anything past this pissed-off world!

GWB: 

Right. Now I'm glad that my portrait got stuck on a wall at the White House before my head got stuck on that

spook…spoke…I mean spike!  Adios!  Armadillos are tapping on my chamber door!

IT’S THE OIL STUPID!

June 12, 1982

The biggest demonstration on earth (until the global anti-Iraq war march of Feb 15, 2003) took place in New York on June 12, 1982, when one million people gathered in support of the second UN Special Session on Disarmament and to protest nuclear weapons.

 ***

New York City.

June 12, 1982:

The Great Peace March.

And Now.

Sitting here. Typing.

 Listening to the Grateful Dead sing Visions of Johanna.

 Thinking about another vision that has been blinded.

 Has gotten covered with blinders of shared complacency.

Helpless renunciation.

Forlorn acceptance that we cannot change things as they are.

I went.

  I saw.

 I concurred…

With one million other souls.

June 12, 1982.

To stop the Nuclear Arms Race.

TO STOP THE MADNESS!

IT’S NOT TOO LATE.

Peace in…

War out!

Redemption Song!

IT’S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES!

BREASTS AND SOUL

MADONNA!

Ma! 

 Don! 

Nah!

Poor (filthy rich), foul-mouthed Madonna! 

Ever since her daddy pulled her off of a stage, she has continued to push the envelope (and her body) to newer extremes.

              Madonna, dear Madonna, must keep up with the Joneses (I mean the Gagas) of the world.

At least the exposure of Janet Jackson’s breast was an accident.

 Or not.

But except for myself, I have nothing whatsoever against breasts. 

Women should be free to show their chests (left and right side) just like men.

Madonna’s breast(s)---both have been ogled before in book and magazine---and other places---is just another breast.  

Well, it’s Madonna’s breast, and there is only one Madonna, so it is one of a kind.

Nevertheless, Madonna, you have disappointed the world and me by brandishing your (right) breast.

We don’t want to see your breasts.

Just your soul!

You haven’t impressed me at all.

And yes---for men and women---the better part of valor is discretion.

 So Madonna, please be sure to tuck in your nip in the future.

Keep your chest undercover. 

Madonna, you’re in Rome on Tuesday, so do what they do…

Whatever that is.

IT’S THE OIL STUPID!

CLONES DRONES AND DIGITAL ADDICTION

Now is an age of endless and magical apps.

An app a day keeps…

What away? 

 Keeps ourselves away from ourselves and each other?

I speak to you, but you don’t hear me! 

Thy app is the apple of your eye, not I!

Thy phone is your paramour!

 Not I, thy beloved!  

 We devote hours and hours to our external, electronic pleasures. 

Electrons permeate our lives---our hearts and minds---

But what of our souls!

Special effects have mesmerized us.

We cannot bear too much reality, and so we don’t.

We gloat with gusto and glee inside our magical, kaleidoscopic kingdoms.

We can’t get enough of this stuff that makes us guffaw with pleasure.

We are not shocked too easily anymore.

We’ve become cybernetic clones!

Students are too busy to think or read, because they must text, text, text, and push their little buttons on their little phones, and titillate themselves with their captivating games!

Leave us alone!

 This is what we must do!

 It is our existence!

 This is our bliss! 

A dictator can more easily do what he or she wishes to do because its citizenry is way too occupied to notice anything except their pulsating screens.

 In the meantime, pilot-less, military (and domestic) drones fly above our addled and apped heads, dropping Zeus-like missiles and bombs down upon enemies, but also upon innocent men, women, and children.

IT'S THE OIL STUPID!

2012

 Celestial Rose by Gustave Doré

Even though pundits and prophets are throwing their divine darts at Destiny’s dartboard, only Providence knows what is going to happen in 2012.

The Mayans might know.

NASA might know.

Your dog might know.

The next president of the United States could be Mr. Romney, Mr. Magoo, Donald Duck (or Daffy), or Barack Obama…

And it might not matter a hill of beans.

This nation is no longer in our hands, the hands of the people.

The furtive fingers of a shadow government are wrapped around our necks.

We all dwell on a dark gallows.

The technocracy that we love, with all of its sundry and titillating gadgets, has given us slavery, not Freedom.

We are all prisoners.

We all dwell in this electronic-cybernetic paradise.

Bombs fall, babies die, but we are happy.

Barack Obama, at least, had given me more hope than the dissembling Cheney-Bush regime.

But Barack Obama is still just another chief executioner of orders from above, while placating, reasoning, and waxing with his poetic rhetoric.

 He is a charming family man. 

But what he does (and will do) are far more important than what he looks like or says.

President Obama isn’t boasting as much as George W. Bush, but he is bombing with more drones.

The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were not partisan issues, because these invasions were approved by both U.S. political parties.

These wars (and others) were produced by the Pentagon and the Military-Industrial-Petroleum Complex.

They put us where we are.

But where are we?

Where are we going?

I am still more hopeful with Obama swatting flies, and not Mitt Romney.

Obama can also sing and dance better than Romney.

We have inherited the sins, the bad deeds, and the deep debts of our precursors, left, right, Republican, and Democratic.

You and are reaping what our predecessors have sowed.

Blame is easy, but hopefulness is not.

Trickling and Tricks (not that kind) are trademarks of the GOP. 

They trickle their off-shore jobs and bank accounts, and they avoid paying their commensurately earned taxes into the U.S. Treasury.

Sure, let them become rich, but they should pay MORE than their fair share.

For the Good of a nation that is in peril.

I’m going to vote for the right candidate, and my Ouija board, tea leaves, and Tarot cards will decide who that is.

IT’S THE OIL STUPID!