Friday, August 29, 2008

The Denver Donkey Show: Hee-Haw, Hee Haw - The March for Fleece 2008. Night 4 of the DNC part II

On the 45th anniversary of “I Have a Dream”, Barack Obama delivered a similarly moving and beautiful speech to the standing room only INVESCO field audience, the American people, and the more than 38 million around TV viewers around the world. It’s sad really, that unlike Dr. King’s speech, Barack Obama’s promise of a better tomorrow for the American people carried all the heft of a popcorn fart and the heart-felt honesty of “You look great in that dress. I was telling my Mama just the other day that I thought that style of dress probably wasn't designed with Homo sapiens in mind. But, I see you in it and I’m like, DAMN girl, you be lookin' fine!”


Dr. King said:

"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."


Truer words were never spoken. Recognize.


As well as:


"I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood."


Well, they’re still working on that one. Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know.


Regardless of my ever-embittered, volcanic ranting, this was a historic night. And, as viciously and regularly as I attack my fellow Americans and our government, the events of last night restored in me a sliver of hope that the American system of government still fundamentally works. A black man has earned the Democratic Party’s nomination for President of the United States of America. I say earned because he successfully fended off The Baddest Bitch, and quite possibly the sickest all-around fuck on the face of the planet, in a heroic display of will that continues to befuddle me.


Respect.


As alluded to earlier, the speech was nothing more than a “Rah-Rah-Rah” pep rally for the American dream. There were no Chicken Soup for the American Soul remedies. And, the remedies that Senator Obama did allude to left me with gnawing, rolling agita. How the hell are we gonna pay for all this utopian sunshine and rainbows? There is no way that any of this could be anything more than utter fantasy, like Intelligent Design, or abstinence-based Sex ed programs. I’ve read numerous Penthouse Forum letters that were more believable.


There was one aspect of the Democrats' powerful night that was particularly telling; hundreds upon hundreds of Democratic delegates on the floor of INVESCO Field were waving signs that merely said "Change", so many in fact, that I can now attest to what an organized street beggar's convention would look like. The ocean of signs somehow cheapened the speech, as if the front of a 7-11, or a freeway off-ramp would be a more fitting venue. Even though I was at home, I put my wallet in my front pocket, just to be safe.


When, oh when, oh when, will they learn; ass, gas, or grass, NOBODY rides for free.


However, I am a grown man and I can admit certain things: As much as I bitch like some whiny old see-you-next-Tuesday, I firmly believe that if you can motivate a nation’s people to action, you can literally move mountains.




My brother Andy (his Blog) will state to anyone who will listen to him, that he believes differently. Andy proudly contends that he is, “Ayn Rand-loving to the point of necrophilia”, and a “me first and fuck you, card carrying Neo-con.” He believes that Karl Rove is to politics what Allen Iverson is to himself; the Answer. My fellow Americans, I love him very, very much, and I work tirelessly to temper his vigor for ultra-conservative issues. The truth be told, I often wonder if his conservative fervor is a defense mechanism; for hidden under the surface of his super-intelligent psyche, and unbeknown to the rest of us, he has a Rep. James Traficant-sized skeleton in his closet. Only time will tell.


I’m on to you MackNair. You can run but you can’t hide.


In closing, I don’t really have anything else to report. My intention for this final segment was for it to be as entertaining and devoid of substance as Senator Obama’s speech.


To my wonderful and appreciated readers (both of you), if you think that I was tough on the Demmycrats, wait ‘til Monday. The GOP Convention from St. Paul, MN is the place. I have a feeling that its going to be a sadly farcical event, more than worthy of my rancorous verbal wrath.


I will also be heavily reporting on Ron Paul's "ugly step-sister" convention, "The Rally for the Republic", in Minneapolis. If you were wondering if I'm just some angry, scoliotic curmudgeon who lives below a freeway overpass and uses the public library's computer as an excuse to come in from the elements, and that I couldn't possibly write anything with a positive slant, just wait.


Just you wait.


Until then, assalamu alaikum,


Jet

Thursday, August 28, 2008

The Denver Donkey Show: Hope Sweet Hope and Sweet, Sweet Lies. The DNC Night 4.

I was watching the 4th and final night of the 2008 Democratic National Convention. As I turned on the television, Stevie Wonder and his band were performing a jazzy little number. Stevie was blessedly terse this night. There is a joke from Eddie Murphy Delirious in which Eddie relates the fact that he’s become friends with Stevie. “You gotta cut Steve off, because if he get a roll on, he’ll talk your ear off. Shut the fuck up Steve, man. If you want to impress me, drive the motherfucking car!” Some jokes are funny because they’re funny, and some jokes are funny because they’re true. Stevie Wonder talks like Sperm whales dive, one big breath and both of them are all set for at least two hours.


I started out watching the Democratic Party’s personal “fluffer” that is CNN. “Good evening, I’m Wolf Blitzer, here with my colleague, closeted homosexual Anderson Cooper, and this is CNN. This hour’s segment of the Democratic National Convention from Denver, CO is brought to you by Bleu Cheese flavored Man-gina brand personal lubricant and “toss-your-salad” dressing.


I can’t believe I had forgotten the fact that a few of the MSNBC pundits were close to throwing on-air blows. Without a second thought, I would buy a Pay-Per-View of that spectacle; I picture a bunch of sissy-assed windbags, blindly slapping in each other’s general direction with weakly flailing arms and manicured nails. Their faces seem to be imploding, and they turn their heads away from the action like Regan McNeil in The Exorcist. “Your mother sucks cocks in Hell, you faithless slime.” Yeah Chris Mathews and Keith Olbermann, I’m talking to you, ya panty waists.


This is so much fun.


I sat there, half-assed listening to speaker after speaker and pundit after pundit, say the same goddamn thing about change and how Barack Obama will bring to us this life-giving panacea, and that John McCain, snake oil salesman extraordinaire, will continue selling the same patented nostrum of the Bush administration, and just how downright unacceptable that is for everyone. Blah-de-f’ing-blah.


The irony is not lost on me that words once spoken by Vladimir Lenin seemed to sum it up best; A lie told often enough becomes the truth.”


This is how I see it; both parties fuck you in the ass, it’s academic. This incarnation of the Democrats have about them the appearance of common courtesy; they promise to at least rub your back while they jack hammer your dirt road. The Republicans however, try to divert your attention away from the fact that they’re making sweet, sweet love to your backside by activating your fight-or-flight reflex, so much so that sensory overload reduces the uncomfortable sensation to tolerable levels. It’s quintessential gate control theory.


After a couple of much needed Bud Lights with Lime, I came to my senses and switched the channel to PBS. I commented to my wife that Jim Lehrer has the eyes of a Great White; black, cold, and beautiful. Beth said, “And creepy. They make me want to give him a piece of cheese.” I politely disagreed with my wife’s mouse reference, as she knows little to nothing about either Lamniformes or Rodentia.


I believe, despite his advanced age, that Mr. Lehrer would be a political force on the national stage if he dusted off his wallet and sprung for a rug wasn’t the ‘Jackie’ from Men’s Wigs by John Renau. Deep, knowing eyes and an eighty-five dollar cranial beaver pelt go together like Fundamental Christianity and reason. Oil and water bitches, oil and water.


On with the show. Without further ado, may I introduce to you the next President of the United States of America - directly after the obligatory heart string-tugging video montage.


Barack Obama took the stage like a smooth, slow moving Category 2 hurricane; he seemed to be literally blowing away the 80-plus thousand people in attendance. To me and my cynic’s eye (which I’m told translates to Asshole), the spectacle reminded me of those cool Billy Dee Williams Colt .45 commercials from the 80’s. Everybody knows that Malt Liquor goes down smooth, but there’s always a bitter aftertaste.


Stepped in the park I was drunk as hell
Three bitches already said, "Eric your breath smells!"
40 ounce in hand, that's what I got
"Yo man you see Eazy hurlin' in the parking lot?"


8-ball by NWA



Tomorrow, gentle readers, my assessment of the Barack Obama nomination acceptance speech.


Same Gonzo time, same Gonzo channel......

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

The Denver Donkey Show; Apathy sets in/Bud Lights no help. Night 3 of the DNC.

I am sitting here, having drunk numerous Bud Light/Clamato red beers, trying in vain to come to grips with what I have just witnessed. I promised myself that I wouldn’t be as caustic tonight as I have been, but the search for real truth can never be railroaded by flimsy, drunken promises; like telling yourself that you’ll be nicer to people, or the vows of marriage.

Frankly, I’m bored with it already. I can only watch people I loathe for so long, especially since many of them have been at the very top of my “God Do I Fucking Hate You” list for such a long time. After a while, watching them makes me seriously begin to question my own sanity. I rationalize it by saying that I need to know the truth. The truth is, you are going to find damn little truth at a political convention. If the contest is previously decided, conventions are nothing more than political stroke-jobs; a rite of ascension for the Whore of Babylon.

Jesus, I can’t even write I’m so turned off. The words usually flood my mind to capacity, and the trick is to keep the best ones and put them on the page. Tonight, the words are nowhere to be found. They must be dragged, syllable by syllable, from the overworked language centers of my fatigued and beleaguered brain, and I seemed to have run fresh out of catecholamines to fuel my rage.

“The King is dead. Long live the King!”

Good night,

Jet

The Denver Donkey Show and Tonight’s Star; The One, The Only, Sen. Hill-a-ME Clinton (DNC Night 2)

Where to begin; I’m sitting there, minding my own Goddamn business, and watching the Democratic National Convention, live from Denver. It’s moments like these in life’s rich pageant that call to memory some of the times in your life that you’ve felt so very alone. It’s like; “WOW. There’s a shitload of people in this country who see the world through completely different eyes than I do. I mean for real.”

Then, reality sets in and you remember (how could you forget, you handsome devil) that you are always right and all those complete assholes on that convention floor have got it all wrong. WAAAAAYY wrong.

They are unwittingly there, for all the world and most importantly me, to laugh at and to demean. HELL YEAH! Think about it; you’ve got to be a pretty dim bulb with nary a sense of humor not to take full advantage of a prime opportunity to laugh at the Democrats’ expense. Fox News even had actor Chris Burke, who was born with Downs Syndrome, and portrayed lead character 'Corky' on the TV series “Life Goes On," live in their Washington studios to poke fun at the convention goers. Mr. Burke, 43, appeared to be drunk at the time.

Orgiastic doesn’t begin to describe the convention floor freak show. For Christ’s sake, with mine own eyes I saw a delegate from the convention’s home state of Colorado in a Jack Link’s Beef Jerky Sasquatch costume, with a studded-leather codpiece, and God help me if I’m lying, bejeweled nipple rings. I could go on for hours.

It all makes sense now......

With a revolving door of freaks and megalomaniacs who spoke before her, Hillary Clinton was introduced to the stage by her, VERY fit by the way, daughter Chelsea. I hadn’t seen Chelsea in quite a while, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that she had somehow grown into the heavy jaw and equine dentition of her youth. For whatever reason, I hadn’t thought that possible. To be honest, I was expecting another Amy Carter. What a battle axe.

Senator Clinton entered stage left, initially flanked by her guru, an Al Bin Ali Bedouin mystic. Little is known about him other than he smells of camel’s urine and Febreze. She walked with a quick, straight-armed, straight-legged staccato, accessorized by her trademark wild-eyed grin, like a martyred poster child for the clinically insane. She held the look of someone who is currently experiencing the unique discomfort of having a relapsing, crack smoking Robert Downey Jr. wedged in their descending colon.

She took the stage in a day-glo, “power orange” pant suit. With a pasty white skeletal head, and her “you see that ass Mami got” rear end, from afar she looked like a delicious piece of candy corn. At first I thought she was going to do something fresh and bold, like a jazzy dance number, maybe as one last ditch effort to turn the delegate tide in her favor. I sat eagerly waiting, hoping for other candy costumes to follow her on stage, but none of it came; no mini Snickers, no Zagnuts, no Circus Peanuts, nothing. I must say that I was temporarily saddened. Then she opened her mouth and my pain melted away.

She started off slowly, with the usual mendacious rhetoric. But, anytime Hillary Clinton takes the podium, it is common knowledge that there’s going to be some vaingloriously comedic “doozies” that come flying out of her mouth. It is a fact that has been woven into the very fabric of presidential campaign folklore. She just can’t fucking help herself, much to the delight of my maliciously sarcastic dark side.

As she spoke, they kept panning back to Bill Clinton for his reaction. President Clinton looked like W.C. Fields in the depths of an alcoholic fugue. His cartoonish, bulbous nose has turned a deep shade of red, and there is a visible road map of tiny surface capillaries from continual abuse of the drink. His face was flush, and his eyes were like a crime scene; bloodshot and devoid of life. President Clinton is a known mouth breather, and as he exhaled, those around him were forced to turn away in revulsion from the overbearing stench of Maker’s Mark and simple chronic halitosis. It has been widely reported on fringe internet news sites that he “sharted” when Hillary said “No Way, No How, No McCain.”

Notable Quotes:

  • The media outlets had quoted Sen. Clinton calling for Democrats to “take back the country we love,” but I will go to my grave believing that I heard her urge them, begging them no less, to “take back the Cunt that you love.”

  • Speaking to America, “You have made me laugh, you have made me cry.” Well Hillary, now you know how I’ve felt all these years, but for me, there’s been a heavier emphasis on the crying.

  • “Barack Obama is MY candidate, and he must be President of the United States of America.” – This is typical Hillary Clinton egoism. Me, me, me, my, my, my, I, I, I.

Other than that, it was a pretty boring, non-committal speech. The whole thing seemed kind of forced, except when she was talking about herself of course. There was nothing earth-shattering to report, but as stated earlier, the people watching was par excellence.

Semper Vigilo,

Jet

Friday, August 22, 2008

There's a Heaviness....


There’s real heaviness, like we’re living in a pressure cooker. Many of us live day-to-day with the faint but ever-present sense that impending doom is approaching on some all-too-near horizon. An unknown, unseen entity has a tetanic grip on our short hairs with no intention of letting go.

Where’s Dick Nixon when we need someone to kick around. No, scratch that. We’re getting the type of lubricant-free ass-fisting that ol’ Tricky Dick wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to envision. He was rabid dog mean, but not very creative. These are real pros, Jack.

In this world, there are three types of bad people. They are, in ascending order:
a.) Grade-A douchebags.
b.) The Richard M. Nixons of the world.
c.) The corporate and banking elite. Cold-blooded, pseudo-reptilian predators who hide dry, scaly exoskeletons beneath tailored suits. They require extensive reconstructive surgery and five-hundred dollar haircuts to not be recognized as something “other than human.”
All politicians, Republican or Democrat, that are referred to as “Washington power brokers” are nothing more than sadly allegoric “hand-up-the-ass” puppets. They have sold their souls, and sold us out, to be the human face of a very inhumane plan. It is a plan they will never have any say-so in, or enjoy a modicum of control over. The basic outline of the plan was set into motion before many of them were born.
The captains of industry and elite bankers are the Caligulas, Torquemadas, and Idi Amins of our times, but worse. Their ultimate goal is to control and profit from nearly every aspect of everyone’s life the world over.

Yes folks, we’ve got ‘the fears’; the worst case scenario has come to fruition. As a nation, we’ve just crested the mountain and its all downhill from here. The United States of America is the dissipating remains of a “shooting star” society. The greatest and most powerful nation in the earth’s history is experiencing the onset of violent and spasmodic death throes, and our nation as we’ve known it will soon be nothing more than a bittersweet memory. The extended forecast is calling for a category 5 shit storm, so grab your umbrellas. It’s the soberest kind of bad trip.

We are no longer a nation of the People, for the People, by the People; that is a forgone conclusion. Having been sold out by our own government, we are merely the indentured servants of a new generation of robber-barons who are paid directly from our income taxes for the “privilege” of controlling our money supply and through of subsidies that are given to the mega-corporations. We pay them, directly out of our paychecks, the vast sums of money they are using to take direct control over our nation. Actually, it’s ingenious; the ultimate pyramid scheme.

I have not read, nor heard anyone else say this, so I will. The United States is in the midst of a great interregnum: that is to say our government and society has changed forever, and we are currently without either a well-defined leadership or a well-defined system of governance. The current leadership is simply making and changing the rules as they go along. We are no longer a Republic of free states, nor does the remotest resemblance to the free society created by the Constitution continue to exist. At this point, we are unsure of what this New World Order will entail, or what manner of entity will assume control. If you ask me, the plan is for the creation of a multi-national banking corporatocracy; dominatrices in Armani suits instead of assless chaps and a Schirmmutze.

I know that there are many out there who will try to discredit me by as some hyper-paranoid, conspiracy theory whack-job. However, nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s these types of malignant, dismissive, and reactionary judgments which lie at the very heart of what’s the matter with this country. To those of you who gleefully relate such hate-mongering discourse without benefit of forethought or investigation, I would like to point out that referring to you as mere scum would be a high complement. You are what remains after the bottom of the barrel has been scraped.

I would like to see every one of you cowardly, hate-mongering bumble-fucks dressed up like Buster Brown or Little Bo Peep and summarily thrown, begging and screaming, into a pit inhabited by hair-shirted, sadistic sexual predators to be used as they saw fit.

Fuck you and the rainscalded, lordotic horse you rode in on.

Oh how the mind doth wander. Deep in our collective hearts, we know that we have a powerful and dangerous parasite that must be excised, but we are too confused and afraid to take the appropriate action. The sucking sound as the √©lan vital is siphoned out of us can no longer be ignored. Even though the beast on our back has grown fat from many years of undisturbed feeding, it always wants more. Its been dining on our very blood since the dawn of the industrial revolution. Until now, we’ve had plenty to feed us both, but that is no longer the case. The challenges we face to remove this parasite are both serious and complicated, and to say a lot is at stake is an understatement of inestimable proportions.

Like many parasites, the host’s attention is diverted away with some manner of anesthetic. In this case, they have brilliantly purchased and consolidated most forms of media. They then used the oldest and dirtiest tricks in the book to entice us, confound us, and cause us to second guess our instincts. It has worked in spades. The mass media, our lifeline to the world, actively breeds an insidious, crippling fear and a hostile contempt and distrust for our fellow man. On a daily basis, we are subjected to the same concepts that are used to artistic perfection in the Las Vegas casinos; distraction, over-stimulation, and disorientation. In fact, casinos are the proving grounds to develop new and imaginative methods for control, both over our minds and our wallets. They are also used as the proving grounds for the newest electronic surveillance technologies. Is it mere coincidence that mega-corporations own all of the casinos? No sirree. They dazzle us with brilliance and baffle us with bullshit from every direction, like Muhammad Ali in his prime. Right jab, left cross, right hook and you just got knocked the fuck out. Take your lumps, leave your wallet, and get the hell on home.

Again, I digress. With any parasite/host relationship, there is a point when the homeostatic functions of the host can no longer be maintained. Here in the US, we are becoming weak and sickly and the parasite knows that the death of its host is an imminent reality. The only viable option for this metaphoric beast to continue growing and surviving is to make the entire world its host, in the form of one world government and one world bank/currency.  The good news is that parasites are not fatal unless it consumes all of the host's resources. In other words, a parasite cannot survive and thrive if the host does not continue to feed it.

While it is true that more can be accomplished by a single and unified effort, human beings are obviously neither ants nor bees, species that have thrived for eons as a result of total selflessness and dedication to their collective group. After untold eons, ants and bees remain ants and bees and have not appreciably evolved for their communal efforts.

The beauty of being a human is our understanding of the self as both an individual and as a member of a larger group, and the benefits and responsibilities inherent in both roles. It is a wonderful duplicity. Actually, we need both roles to thrive. Self-awareness and self-determination, when combined with the concept of safety in numbers is what has allowed us to evolve. It is the cornerstone, or essence, of what it means to be human.

We began as lowly, omnivorous scavengers waiting in line for our turn at the carcass. Mankind has never been the fastest or the biggest species, but through fierce determination, working in relative unison, and rewarding ideas that better the group, we have become the greatest and most dominant species the world as ever known.
With the tiniest bit of rational contemplation, isn’t it almost impossible not to see that our similarities run much, much deeper than our differences? We’re all Homo sapiens, right? How different can we possibly be?  To tie the genetics and politics of it all together, Aesop and Patrick Henry were right; united we stand, divided we fall. It has always been that way for mankind. Nature, in her infinite wisdom, has a way of keeping the traits that are most important for the continuation of a species.

Big business and the government have made us believe we don’t need and we shouldn’t trust one another. Nothing could be farther from the truth. We need one other now more than ever, because it’s obvious the few with the lions’ share of wealth are nowhere near satisfied with what they have accrued. They have thrown down the gauntlet and made their aims abundantly clear.  They will not stop until they own everything and everybody; lock, stock, and barrel.   The scariest thing is, if we fail, the rest of the world will fall with us. We are at the precipice of the abyss, and stand to lose everything we’ve ever known about living in a free society.

Through complacency and misplaced trust, we have handed over our empire to a small group of people who have chosen to exploit us, to feed their insatiable lust for power. We entrusted them to do the right thing because they had proven to have the foresight and wherewithal to make big things happen. Their ability to think grand scales has created our nation’s infrastructure, cost effective manufacturing, and mass communication, among many others. These mavericks were and are the best America has to offer. “Captains of industry” have been at the very forefront of our nation’s explosion of growth and development. It’s sad that these individuals, who have in one sense done so much for America, have completely lost sight of right vs. wrong.

At the onset, our newly liberated country would have gladly crowned George Washington king without hesitation, but that is not what he wanted. He wanted something that no individual can ever possess, something infinitely more powerful. The vision of the Founding Fathers was for everyone to be their own king and rule their own lives as they saw fit, so long as the individual’s decisions did not interfere with the rights or kingdom of another. They also wanted a nation whose citizen’s lives were, in a real sense, liberated from the fear of intrusion by the government, an entity they considered to be a necessary evil.

A deliberate decision has been made not to address topics such as slavery, suffrage, religion, or the cause of any other subgroup. It’s not that these causes aren’t serious or lack importance, but discussions of this nature only serve to divide us. We must relearn to focus on our similarities as human beings and as Americans. It is a foregone conclusion that different groups at different times have been treated beyond horribly, but at this point everyone is on the plantation.

The powers that be are not solely to blame for our predicament. Since the time  of our founding, the US has been a nation of deeply self-righteous and arrogant people. Americans have a deep sense of narcissistic entitlement, as though the world somehow owes us something for being American. There is good reason for the term “ugly American.” Our forefathers prided themselves on the descriptive insults given to them as a form of backhanded complement. Sadly, that is no longer the case. We are no longer the “good guys” of the world riding into town to save the day, wearing a 10-gallon hat atop a hale, white equine.

The US government, especially the military, has used the world as their playground and their toilet, and they have done whatever  they wished wherever they wanted to.  They have forced countless sovereign nations to do their bidding, all the while exploiting their precious resources in the bastardized name of freedom and democracy. In other words, bald-faced lies. They have created permanent military settlements in many nations to protect whatever it is they are harvesting, or to have a jumping-off point for further conquest. Individually, we may not have participated in any of it, but these activities have been the cornerstone of US foreign policy for quite some time. The responsibility for these actions falls firmly on the lap of anyone who supports the gov't on any level.

The death rattle of the American dream is here. The vultures are circling and their shadows are looming large against the uneasy backdrop of wasted plains and flooded waterways. Vultures are coarse and ugly, but their flight is not. They coast in the updraft on elegant wingspans, patiently waiting for their chance to feast on the bloated carcass below.

 It's said that Rome wasn’t built in a day, but oftentimes it feels like we’re being destroyed in one.