Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Why I did not vote for Hillary Clinton for President

I heard a dog barking every night for a week. I couldn't sleep. I decided to confront the dogs owner about the noise.

I walked to Hillary’s home. It was surrounded by a high fence, so I rang her security people to let me in. As I stood on the porch I heard lots of talking coming from inside the main house. Heavy curtains kept me from seeing anyone.

After a long bit of waiting the door edged open and Hillary stepped out to meet me. The door then sprung closed firmly behind her. She did not invite me inside. There was no seating on the porch. We didn't have drinks.

We stood and talked. I gave her my complaint, and then suggested some possible remedies. She smiled, thanked me and, cracking open the front door, disappeared into the house. I heard talking as I walk away. I didn't recognize any of the voices.

A week later, I met her on the street. She smiled, walked past me quickly and disappeared.

-->
The fucking dog is still barking.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Mu

Mary asked me if the 49ers were good or bad. I told her to unask the question.

Tuesday, November 08, 2016

Homer's flying spider pig

I had a fat dream about this poem last night, probably from the stout Cortez reference. I might have heard it while vaguely dozing with the TV turned on one of my nightly pre-bedtime comedy shows (teeheehee). It was a jelly belly of a dream in which I awoke from a thousand years of slumberous ‘nothing is new’ sleep and, after being one of the first white guys to cross the Atlantic, (and then after climbing – sweaty in heavy armor, to the top of a mountain), only to find myself staring at another fucking ocean. It vexed me to no good end; it made me want to disengage my very tap root from all moorings. A wild surmise not first filled with wonder.

It must have been like seeing Andy Kaufman for the first time, and then finding out he really did have a charter bus waiting for you (for a trip to milk and cookie land) -- when all you really wanted was to go home and sleep.

Or like seeing Jesus from my grave when the lights go off.



 “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer”

John Keats

Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,              
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He star’d at the Pacific — and all his men
Look’d at each other with a wild surmise —
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.



Thursday, November 03, 2016

White Room -- Cream, Jack Bruce

This song is from 1968, and I've listened and sung along to it hundreds of times in the last 50 years. Somehow, just today, I read the lyrics.

Something new everyday in spite of myself.

I've been thinking lately that maybe I've been going too fast and I've missed some stuff over the years. I am becoming more aware of the gaps and cracks in both my memories and beliefs. I don't think I've spent enough on maintenance, and am super aware that maybe I wasn't paying attention to much of anything. Or, maybe it's just that I have more free time to Spackle shit now.

"In the white room with black curtains near the station
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings
Silver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyes
Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment
I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines

Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves
You said no strings could secure you at the station
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows
I walked into such a sad time at the station
As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning
I'll wait in the queue when the trains come back

Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves
At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd
Consolation for the old wound now forgotten
Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes
She's just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings
I'll sleep in this place with the lonely crowd;

Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves"

Tuesday, November 01, 2016

Proposal 666

I have vision when the rest of the world wears bifocals, a fact that is legally well documented with time-stamps and the way-back machine, and I occasionally make political recommendations and suggestions that veer into prophecy. The last vision I nailed down involved the combining of schools with prisons – a thing now status quo in many former confederate states and their ilk.

Now, along those lines, another bold proposal.

Today I’d like to suggest a fix to the two propositions currently facing California voters: Propositions 62 and 66. Prop 62 wants to replace capital punishment with life sans parole. Prop 66 wants to speed up the death penalty – get rid of appeals, limit time for stuff, etc.

I voted for both, because I just want something to happen – keeping people on death row for 40 plus years is both expensive and mean. Having families hang out waiting for justice until most of them have been outlived by the convict they are waiting to die seems kind of mean spirited as well. Either way, I say, let’s just get on with it.

But what if, you say, there was another way? A bolder proposal than solves more than one problem, and as a bonus, allows us to torture the condemned outside of our normal, Christian amounts?

I think by combining and modifying the two bills, we could get one bill that would solve the problem at least our lifetimes, maybe more. I call it proposition 666.

First we phase in the two props on the ballot this year – prop 66, then 62 – (the order of implementation is important). We thereby clean out death row by executing everyone who is in death row at the time the law passes. The next step is to execute everyone in prison on life without parole (this is the modification I was talking about).

This modification is the big cost saver, and let’s be honest, life without parole is really just a kind of institutional cruelty that we inflict on people just because we don’t have the balls to eliminate them from the society’s go to list of possibilities in the first place. God knows that after their conviction we will treat them with anger and revenge until they die surrounded by hatefulness and evil, probably in a small room with a fucked up roommate or two.

I’ve never understood why we put people in hellholes of perversity for years – schools of evil and revenge really, and then let them out -- letting them loose on society with bright red marks on their foreheads that keep them forever away from any sort of regular life. Hey, but that’s just me. How we treat people in prisons is the clearest example of how horrible people can be to other people. I guess it’s good we don’t eat them.

American prisons – making fucked up people worse for generations. (suggested moto)

I know of no one from life without parole who has contributed to society – no books, no music, no you tube or blog. The last video from the prison was Richard Speck and his floppy boobies doing drugs from within a maximum security cell – and that helped nobody, probably. That guy who killed Tupac might also be a contributor, but I don’t think all of his appeals are finished yet.

People serving life without parole also serve as a form of instructional memory for prisons. They are the backbone of long term behaviors and structural nastiness that I just don’t think is appropriate for the newer inmates -- those raised in a gentler new America where a be nice to everyone ethic mixed with a dance influenced rhyming have become the norm.

And let’s face it, millennials are going to have to pay for us boomers who didn’t save and took all their money while not doing it. Saving a buck here and there might be the only thing keeping us old folks off the ice flows that may or may not be our near future. Honestly ask yourselves – what is population but a bomb? Think of this as triage – man’s intellectual way of cutting loose the losers, while feeling good about following our misinterpretation of god’s laws. (Well, New Testament anyway – I think we are pretty much right on based on our Old Testament interpretations.)

So, let’s take out the trash -- vote for prop 666! Killing them couldn’t be much worse than how we are treating them now, and we will probably save money.