This one goes out to the ones I love. Guess what ringtone I got as my main right now? Go on guess. No? The 007 theme that’s what. Who hasn’t done that; who hasn’t hummed the James Bond theme song while stealthily skipping down the hall of a hotel at three A.M. in the morning to get a soda from the vending machine? No one. That’s who. You have, I have, and face it because your parents did too. Its cool right? Its cool to wanna waltz into a room with two beautiful women on each side where some earth shaking, plot making, espionage type things are going on. Unfortunately most of you will never be able to do that because you still have your apathy hat on.
I walk into the County Republican Mass Precint Meeting. I’m there as a shark just waiting for the pinpricty of a pin prick of blood in the water. Hadnt quite gotten over that super Tuesday sting. Chip on the old shoulder just waiting to be knocked over the line in the sand I drew bout fifteen feet back. Now I understand the side of the Ron Paul movement that wants to compromise with the old guard, maybe let bygones be bygones and play nice with one another. The last time that happened the Tea Party was sucked right back into the belly of the beast so for me and my house I don’t think that’s the wisest courses of action. Not that we arent still united in the direction of liberty, just a minor disagreement. I was simply raised with the philosiphy of you’ve got the be the firstest with the mostest. In my opinion the liberty movement needs to make a break hard right and run towards the goal full steam knocking down every structure in front of them which exist to simply prop up the ever expanding tarantula of a federal government. But that’s me.
I just don’t see why we would want to dine with the devil with such a short fork. These people are like really old vampires who don’t want to suck our blood they want to suck our votes and absorb our numbers so they can spit out the bone of our ideals. These cronies running the rebublican party look at you kind of like a child mollester and that’s not much of an exageration. I mean I can see them sitting in the drivers seat of a lincoln with the door open and open hand extended filled with special candy. That’s a ride you don’t want to take. They take you to bad places. Scary places. Places where you have to always do the lesser of two evil thing. Niether evil is not evil.
So once in the door I wade into a sea of smiling faces. Smiling shark like faces. Sharks with daggers and special candy in their fin. Guess we’re all just a school of sharks in this room. Only with the nod of a head from anyone under thirty would you know that the Paul Bots had infiltrated this shin dig like fluid oil seeping into every crevice of every cog in the machinery of a terrifying behemoth know as the neoconservative republican party. Everything starts out pleasant but like a duck whose glide is on the surface graceful; underneath that thing is brewing up a storm of uspeakables. The unexpected swell of bodies in this little meeting one by one go to have their names checked off the roll and get their super special kids club membership badge. Then a mad dash to the coffee and doughnuts. I don’t even eat doughnuts and I dashed because I just want to eat the republican party’s doughnut so, so bad. Me and Red try to act casual with our little Styrofoam cups in one hand and our Dixie plate in the other with aforementioned doughnut snugly on top. We’re not casual though. We’re only acting casual because what we are really doing is scoping this joint out. We are eyeballing for anyone with and ‘END THE FED’ button or a ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ meanie snake ready to strike. After a one over we turn in our paypaz and mingle for a moment with other subversives who we know for sure are on our side. Once the meeting is called into session everything was still all smiles and to the uninformed it would appear as if that would not change. To them it would seem this would be a quick in and out. Oh…the uninformed were in for a real bottom of the cearel box treat and I’m not talking about the one’s you have to cut off the box and put together. No sir I speak of the ones you use to race your siblings to the bottom of the sugary, chemical filled, breakfast supplement box in order to claim it as your own. From this point on I’m going from memory and have only that to rely on as to what transpired so I apologize beforehand if any of my exact exactments turns out to be not exactly precise.
We are all nicely planted in our seats which are gloriously adorned with printer paper dressed in district numbers affixed carefully with dull, scotch tape. The chairmen steps forward and calls it a match. Now as the nominating committee diligently works hard in the back to prepare a slate that will make the nice little Paul bots happy, those of us in the hall are in for a geriatric talent show of epic proportions for the next two hours. The good old “anybody but Obama” pep talk was rattled off from local republican movers and shakers and for the most part we kept our chins in the upright and locked position. We all know what ginsu knife suicide theology that really is. The chairmen kept stalling as it became glaringly obvious that the nominating committee was having quite a difficult time figuring out how they were gonna manage to get their slates through without awaking the terrible dragon. Complaints of having to be out of the building by noon or additional charges to ze partee would result was quite the sleight of hand to put a sense of urgency in the crowd. We’ve got to get this thing wrapped up now, we’ve got to move along because there is nothing to see. Let’s just not pay the slates to much attention here so we can hustle on out.
This one was coming to the wire. Just a clean shave after twelve the head of the nominating committee came out and as she rattled off the names from the slate my spidey sense kicked in. Yes I have a spidey sense. Everything gets all slow around me and I can see the preconcussion wave of the waste about to engage the rotating blades of the cooling device. I can hear in the whistle of the tea pot a symphony of utterances from a people that have been pushed to Picard’s line and will not be pushed further. Then this mild mannered looking guy stands up and my spidey sense flips to my matrix bullet time vision showing me every pacemaker in the room skipping a cycle or two.
This guy’s name was Kevin and though he is mild mannered to look at you have to understand that that’s the best way to be when you’re a stone cold killer. I’m not pulling an appendage here, this guy is like Dr. Hannibal Lecter with a Ron Paul bumper sticker on his medical kit. He stands up, he starts swiping out some Robert’s Rules and has every cancer spot in the room thrown his way as all heads whip to his general direction. Want to know how many beads of sweat was on this guy’s brow? None because I already told you he’s like Hannibal Lecter, in fact if anyone who knows him happens to read this you are no longer permitted to address him by his Christian name rather you shall only refer to him as Dr. Hannibal Lecter.
Where was I? Oh, yes. The mass precinct meeting was playing out like it was being scored by one of those really great RADIOHEAD songs that starts off slow and melodic then flies into a crescendo of musical anarchy. As a matter of fact while I write this prose I am listening to ‘The Daily Mail’ repeatedly just to be able to capture the mood because truly that’s what it felt like. Right when this stone cold Kevin, the Roberts rules killa, rose to his feet the drums started beating, the bass started thumping, and Thom Yorke started to wail his intestines out.
You see, this guy was running the numbers on this slate thing. He knew that we had the most bodies in the room therefore the most votes. He knew that if the slate was a little less than proportional to the ratio of factions within the room, he could pull an NBA jam and slam dunk some of our own folks down their basket of limbaology. The question was; would he pull the trigger? Would he challenge the slate presented before us and send this thing into overdrive? Dualistically the answer is no. He would not pull the trigger because everyone knows that serial killers like this Kevin guy, aren’t really considered a bona fide serial killer if they use a gun. Kevin? Rest assured, the boys bona fide. He needs no boom stick, he has a scalpel. A razor sharp scalpel that can cut through all the red tape that’s about to be thrown at him, though this scalpel is special; this scalpel you can’t see because it’s in this guy’s head in the form of a type of biological, antikythera mechanism far beyond the technology of anything in its time or otherwise known as this guys mind. The scalpel is flicked, and our stone cold killer gets the ball a rollin’ in the direction of ensuring more Paul bots are slammed into the slate. Now for the next hour or so would be a fiery lock of the bull horns between the dedicated, due paying, sign waving, lobbyist pandering, old guard republicans and the new, fresh faced, young, energetic, passionate, young, liberty minded, educated, young, young and young Ron Paul infiltrators.
Tempers flare over the audacity of “US PEOPLE” coming in all of a sudden, out of the political woodworks hell bent on putting an end to all their warmongering, government growing, right stripping fun. Why can’t we just shut up and take a big slice of the status quo pie? Why can’t we be “realistic “and accept that the republican party would be thrusting itself on its own sword if they allowed Ron Paul to be the nominee? Look we’ve paid our dues, we’ve nestled our noses in places most unseemly in order to get where we are and by osh kosh ba gosh this is our last chance to become delegates and it’s not fair. It’s just not fair.
Look, I know I’m hitting this old thing pretty hard but you have to believe me when I say it’s nothing against old people, some of my favorite people are old. But what am I doing here? I’m using words in such a way that images will appear in your mind, if only for a flash, which will somehow convey the emotion I desire you to feel at any given moment. I call it visuwords. Now what that means is that when I describe these movers and shakers in the party in a senior citizen type way, all I’m really doing is giving you the imagery of the current ideology and direction of the party. Its old. Its feeble. It can get touchy when bath time comes around and often forgets things that happened not too awful long ago. I in no way am stating my usage of the ‘old’ terminology is positively indicating that these people are of a certain age group, rather it is intended to be taken in more of a metaphorical way. But in case you were wondering let me put it to you this way; if the tapioca pudding isn’t served just right and right on time you’re in for a stampede of walkers and tennis balls my friend.
In the midst of the throw down the chap behind my right shoulder stands up and boy does he looked pissed. Seen this guy before, never caught his name unfortunately, but won’t make that mistake in the future. This gent looks to be arounds about the same age as me which just so happens to be getting younger and younger every year, and though I don’t know beyond a shadow of a doubt, my previously discussed spidey sense tells me this guy is a veteran. I get the strong impression this young man signed up some time ago to defend his country as a patriot and to defend the constitution he swore an oath to protect only to discover once on foreign soil that the wool had been pulled over his eyes and this…this…this is not what he signed up for. Therefore I think we can allow him a little brevity to be a witches boiling brew of pissed in light of the complete and total disregard and dismissive attitude towards his service because he happens to be a Ron Paul supporter while seeking representation at his local mass meeting.
When he stands up to address the chairmen and call the old guard to the carpet by pointing out that ‘dues paying’ republicans who weren’t even present at the meeting were picked as delegates whilst his entire precinct was left a void of representation by having no one from among their ranks numbered, this man’s thunderous pissed offedness still seems to be under restraint by he who harnesses its magnitude. His face told that he was holding much more in and what we were being served up was merely the tip of a much colder, much bigger, much harder iceberg just beneath the squall. This is a man you don’t want to step in the ring with because though he’s short and white you can tell by the beaming rays of unction coming from this dude’s eyes that by the end of the tussle its him that’s getting the slo motion exit and you that gets the cheesy ‘Punisher’ movie.
As chaos continues from votes being fought tooth and nail, obvious miss rulings by the chairmen resulting in division and a near committee member diabetic dodge, there is one voice which rises with an olive branch extended to both sides. Her name is Valerie and she reminds me a lot of Captain Kathryn Janeway from Voyager; only she doesn’t have an Intrepid class starship and she’s a much snazzier dresser. If there’s anything I do know about this lassie though it’s this; if she did have an Intrepid class starship she’d put a Ron Paul sticker on the back of it. Some people of a distorted persuasion in the area of courting inflatable counterparts and I’m not implying that’s the case with Val but what I would like to propose is that in the realm of possibilities; in the event that she did have that persuasion she would have an inflatable Ron Paul but all they would do is cuddle. Maybe eat some Hagen Daz on a cloudy day and stay inside watching reruns of ‘West Wing’ or something or other. Let me scribble it in this fashion so you may better understand the dedication this woman has when it comes to the ideas that Ron Paul stands for when I say that if Kevin had indeed been some sort of serial killer, flipped out and nicked Valerie, instead of yelling “Ouch” she would without a kneejerk pause yell “End the Fed”.
Valerie puts her federal reserve notes where her mouth is. This chick actually infected the ze local partee and has been building a base from the inside since the last time we and Ron Paul danced this waltz. I can only imagine how she endured the disingenuous smiles, shakes of the hand and pats on the back at the monthly eat ins from the sagging stalwarts now attempting to spit in the face of what she has heavily helped to build. Yet there she stands in the gap doing the best she can to attempt for both sides to come to a reasonable conclusion and callin’ em as she’s seein’ em. Then the unthinkable happens which makes this little lady roar with her still, small voice in utter disgust.
Kevin, the perpetual thorn in the side of your depends, had rustled up the chairmen something fierce, something to the point of making the poor man do a mix between a mister bojangles of rage and a Jack the pumpkin king impression, and Jack’s on fire. Thought his little head was going to wobble right off I did.
The chairmen pointed his finger towards the bothersome little Paul bot whose ratio of piss and vinegar was way in the favor of piss and advised him to “Sit down and Shut Up!”…..….the room was nothing but ‘Puss N Boots’ ooooohh kitties. Yup, the no pun intended cat was out of the bag. The republican senior discounted did want us in the room, they just wanted us to be in the room very, very quietly. Not even a one foot voice. Well Valerie would have none of it and used her big girl voice to let them know how unacceptable it was, all the while the dude in the corner (Ron Paul supporter) who happened to catch the chairmen flip his Centrum Silver on camera, was soon hovered over by the handy dandy police officer just trying to keep the peace and escorted out of the building. Then it was speech time and this round little grey haired man that had been fumbling with his belongings the entire time in the similitude of the skipper from “Gilligan’s Island” took the floor in a pacing, heartfelt tirade on how we all needed to stop fighting with one another and kum by yah all the way to facing off Obama with a limp one in the wrist, whatever that means.
Not content to be tussled to the floor by a man under the impression this was some type of Shakespearean speech tryout, Kevin bypasses his teary eyed warnings of Obama turning us into a communist nation with a cut right back to the heart of the matter. The main bone of contention that those who formally held the reins against us was allegedly that they had been loyal to the party for years therefore should get first pickins’ when it came to delegate slots. Kevin breaks it down into bite size kibbles and bits for them letting them know that he understands why that would seem to make a lot of sense and why they would want to do that, but surely they should see that such one sidedness is a deterrent to newcomers who have yet to prove their loyalty to the party. Then just to add an extra bitch slap he cites the party rules which so much as state the flower bed that had just blossomed from his mouth. The chairmen attempts to poke holes through the ironclad Paul Bot mentality of being right is more important than being experienced and compares this whole thing to going to have surgery. Would you rather have an experienced brain surgeon or his brand new intern? Well mister chairmen the answer is that the hypothetical brain surgeon has the wrong diagnosis which will lead to us ending up amputees, so honestly we would rather go with the intern that at least knows what the problem is. He tries to pull the “you guys wouldn’t know what to do at the next convention if you got there” routine completely ignoring the fact that the reason this meeting is running way past twelve and motions, points of discussion, and demands for division are being tossed out left and right is because we know exactly what we are doing. The next words out of his mouth are nothing less than a slight crack in the Pandora’s box of his feelings as he tries to lull us to sleep with the lullaby of how they want us to be a part of this but that they think it best to guide us along, show us the ropes, show us how to vote, what to think, what wins elections and all the other neat tricks that at last check gave us John McCain. Having already denigrated our good chap, Kevin, several times already he attempts a sooth of the wounds and begs Kevin and all those like him to simply “come along” and stop this foolishness of changing anything.
At this point I had witnessed Kevin charge the field first, Valerie flank right, these two awesome vets behind me flank left, a housewife blow the horns of war with her kick ass credentials of being an educated woman by goodly two shoes. I’d watched as the guy who recruited me into all this four years ago, Brian, like a pimp stand up completely towering over everyone in the room, throw down four hundred feddies so we could stay in the joint longer and so the wrinkle league would shut the hell up about it already. Mine eyes beheld the old guard pull a ‘Hatch’s Law’ in attempt to shut out active duty military from even being eligible to serve as delegates only to be kung fu’ed out of the room by Jarrett, this cybernetic samurai who without flinching lets his fingers do the googling only to have the actual text of the law within interdimensional nanoseconds. He stands, cites the law which is a far stretch from the interpretation of the chairmen, fights the “Sorry I smeared your butter on the wrong side of the toast” smile and simply sits like chief sitting bull concluding a negotiation that was all in his favor and best you be on your way now. At this juncture I would not have suspected that another could rise whose shadow was tall enough to cool a warm valley until this Heath fellow rose to interject.
This guy should have had a pulpit slammed right in front of him the second he got to his feet because this man was nothing less than a fire and brimstone preacher of the Truth. First thing I said to myself when he became a shining city on a hill was “Yeah…this guys packing heat.” I almost thought we were going to pass a collection plate around as Heath book, chapter and versed the old guard with a healthy portion of the gospel of liberty by breaking down that their point of us not knowing what we were doing was moot because ole Kevin over there appears to be doing this thing by the book…with a smile…a calm, cool, collected serial killer smile. This neo-John the Baptist erupts with righteous indignation towards the chairmen letting him know that it has not gone unnoticed that his “seasoned wisdom” that only wants to show us the way has only reacted to Kevin and his ilk with nothing but spurious venom since this whole thing began which not only was uncalled for but evidence that the ones having trouble understanding the rules and the point of this whole process was in fact the high pants club. All I’ve got to say about Heath after his echo of the original Baptist gangsters that made up a large chunk of the first revolutionary black robe brigade that gave us the first amendment is to steer clear of young, curvaceous ladies hauling chargers around.
The old guard pushes back with accusations that they’ve seen this sort of thing before, young insurgents show up only for the convention to attempt a hijack and then they are never heard from again, so why should we be appointed in light of that? Is it really a hijacking if you’re trying to get the wheel from a drunken granny, though? I don’t know just think about it. So Neo-John spins that top the other way around and calls on all us young wipper snappers to pledge not to do this thing today then vanish into thin air for four years, rather become involved and stick with this process all year round. What he’s actually asking us to pledge is to take over the party but you could’ve only heard that if you had your Paul Bot universal code translator activated at the time. See it pays to be a Paul Bot. Do you see Romney supporters hearing Mitty actually say that he’s really Barak Obama wearing a really cheap Halloween shop, Ronald Reagan mask? No, you bet your magic underoos you don’t. Then what I had suspected would inevitably happen, did happen. I hate to do this I really do because in writing this I had the highest of hopes that it would be a piece that does nothing but emphasize how victorious we are becoming and how victorious we are already, so as much as it pains me I’m going to have to waft down from my cloud of complimenitive platitudes and get a little snarky for a minute. Beg thy pardon.
As I have laid bare before thee many times hence, I believe in universal duality. I believe that there is certainly a negative/positive, good/evil dichotomy intrinsic to the world in which we live. I think that most of the time we become confused on which one is which due to the wretched ball and chain around our ankles known as culture. We are conditioned to view the world from the point of view of all those who have come before us in our particular people groups and it is the blinders of culture that keep us from being able to take a few steps back and actually look at this whole picture with perspective. Even for those of us who know this truth, actually doing it can still be tricky sometimes. When you do though, you might see that you have more in common with those labeled your enemy than those labeled your friend. I digress. Long and the short of it is this; where there is a positive pushing in one direction you can be pinky sworn to the fact that there is a negative challenging its progress. Regardless of good intent or no, where there is sound logic it will be opposed by logic most flawed. Where there is common sense common fiat will ever be present. Where there is an educated point of view it is guaranteed to be stridden along side of by a point of view fractured by that culture we were just talking about. Now let me illustrate the case in point with this douche wad that was sitting a few seats down from me.
First let me paint the visual, I think that’s effective. Do you remember the first victim from the movie “Seven”? The one who met his untimely demise by way of spaghetti sauce. Okay now that you have that in your mind imagine he lived, went on the Jared diet for maybe two weeks, put on a sweater vest, developed a weird Canadian\Yankee hybrid accent and then became a mormon. This is the guy sitting in my precinct and I’m sorry and honestly don’t mean to come off as being shallow and hurtful but I am simply of the opinion that because a person doesn’t know that they are complete and utter vestigals of intelligence and purpose doesn’t mean I shouldn’t point it out to them or somehow pretend it isn’t so. Not to mention, you know you dig it.
I’m a watcher you see. I like to watch people and hear them out for a little bit before I decide to interject myself into their thought process. Some are worth it some aren’t. You know what I’m talking about if you’ve ever argued or been in a conversation with someone who despite logic, reason, and wisdom refuse to concede their beliefs. The entire time you’re talking to them you just know that its futile but you keep talking anyway. Well I choose to avoid that headache and make the assessment beforehand because out of the heart of man comes the wind to the flapping lips. Well when this guy sat down at my precinct last go around I had him pegged within just a few minutes, if not the moment I saw his oversized, overinflated, overpriced, over marketed, over the rainbow Mitt Romney badge. The thing was almost the size of his breast which in case you haven’t been following the dots was big. So let me Freud this guy down for you if you’re so inclined to take the scenic route with me.
Probably raised a mormon but definitely a mormon now either way. Kind of started early in life with a little bit of a disadvantage by being big boned (not an excuse for being a douche) and due to that more likely than not became the target of ridicule by those vicious little grade schoolers in his developmental years. Then he, as have we all, reached some apex in his life where the choice had to be made. Do you, in light of your disadvantages become the perpetual victim and allow the unacceptance of the world around you to send you spiraling in a direction which ultimately leads to anger, bitterness, hatred, wrath, and the drive to force others to conform to you by means of force? Or do you simply do as one of the wisest among us said and “Empty your mind. Be formless. Shapeless, like water. Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle. If you put water in a tea pot, it becomes the tea pot Now water can flow or water can crash Be water my friend.” This man taught that there is natural instinct and control and both are extremes which cannot be solely depended on, rather both were needed in balance. This is very similar to what I mean when I speak of universal duality though that’s a different date I think. This is a philosophy which allows you to be by way of allowing others to be.
Yeah, well this guy has clearly chosen the dark side of the force and I would bet my bacon taters he’s never seen a Bruce Lee flick. Pretty early on he decided that because people picked on him he must somehow seek out power. Power for what? Well when you aren’t truly happy with who you are as a person because you measure your value as a person by the people around you, then your deepest desire is to pull a “Paint it Black” and make others change who they are to be more of a mirror image of you. I call this self validation and spun that wheel before so back to the point. So our chubby Anakin needed a field and being the high school quarterback was out of the tea leaves. It had to be in the realm of the cerebral, maybe the obtaining of massive amounts of information and gorging them down the throat of your brain only in no philosophical order in which to make any true use of the data. We use to call that a nerd when I was coming up. Well the only fields where nerds can compete are at comic book conventions and politics. True patriots do too, but on the average they try to stay as far away from government as possible until it becomes absolutely necessary for them to rise up, over take and cleanse the temple. As is our time now.
Little porky Anny opted not to chill out as a human being and stop taking things so seriously, going down the road of getting his pound of flesh while in the process convincing himself that his cause is just. You see my fellow pursuers of a harmonious zen state, there is knowledge and there is passion. Both equally dualistic. You can know everything in the world but without passion you will never be able to understand what you know. On the other side you can be passionate with ignorance at which point passion becomes what I phrase anti-passion. Anti-passion and passion are easy to discern from one another. Passion, which is infused with properly perceived knowledge always moves in the direction of freedom, peace and allowance of other human beings. Anti-passion however, always moves in the direction of bringing about peace through intolerant force. That’s the current leadership of the party, and that’s this guy. No doubt he dabbled in a few debate classes and all his friends are careful to avoid topics he might could turn into an argument because they’re sick of hearing him try to impress them with his anti-passionate rhetoric. Never works though because when he’s sitting at the huddle house sipping on a lemon water and he sees his friend pour ketchup on his scrambled eggs he just has to jump in his lap about it by bloviating on why its socially, economically, philosophically and theologically unacceptable to do so in public. Sheesh.
Here he sits thinking after all his life that he was going to come to his virgin meeting and be the bright and shining star, the flame to which the republican moths would flock to in light of his sheer brilliance. All those dreams shattered when the likes of Kevin and the other Paul Bots stole the show. I could hear him clicking his pen the entire time leading up to this moment and judging by the upswing in rapid clicks this Romnoid was punishing his pen with I knew his ego had had just about enough. There was no longer hope of him riding in on his white horse prophecy and being the bestest and the brightest with those in this room while this room was in such sweet chaos. That’s when the light bulb went off on this guys kolob and he saw an angle from which perchance he could wedge himself into the equation. He rises and addresses the chairmen in effort to bring his brew of sanity to the meeting and the first thing out of this guys mouth is that basically he doesn’t have any idea what he’s talking about. Then he said a bunch of other stuff but quite frankly at that point I started humming “How to disappear Completely” and didn’t waste my brain fat. I apologize for having such a large build up for that and then letting you down but I just had to get that out of my system because I can already tell you that if this Star Wars kid (YouTube it) sticks around ze partee after the election he and I are gonna have a lot of fuuuuuuuuun. At any rate I suppose we might have to settle for isolating the tumor some days rather than removing it completely.
At the end of the day we did pretty good I think. We managed to get most of what we wanted on the first slate and what I might on a sunny day consider a fair compromise on the second but that truly hasn’t been the point of all these words. No what this has been is an attempt to pat those deserving, a pat on the back and to the faint of heart give a message of optimism. Look, I know how bad it is. I know the world seems crazy and only seems to be getting crazier by the nightly news broadcast. I know we have to worry about these insane people who think the patriot act and the NDAA are good things wanting to run everything. I know everywhere we liberty minded folk go we always get cheated, slighted and labeled all sorts of elementary school playground tags. I know our country is following the world into an Orwellian nightmare and I know it’s happening fast, but let’s not let that make us lose sight of the truth in all of this. This dualism I always preach about, you see this is it at perfect working order. Tyranny has been allowed to plume up so fast, so far, so quick and its roots of oppression have gotten a deep, deep grip of the infrastructure. I’m just as infuriated that in our name, soldiers are being used as pawns of war and profit knee deep in the blood of innocent people in lands having no ill will towards us. I’m just as saddened when one of those soldiers can no longer bear the mental assault of what he has been ordered to do and snaps on civilians. I know how disheartened it is to feel that in the midst of all this woe most people are simply too apathetic to expect real changes. One not properly observing would assume the worst and try to cash in their chips but those of us with the pineal gland turned to 11 can see that the opposite side of the scale must now be allowed to push back. By the looks of what happened at the meeting I was present in I’d say we have a nice little 1776 part two in production here. You see in times of great tyranny we have always believed that titans walked the earth and balance was restored. The last most notable cycle we called them the founding fathers. A group of people as flesh and blood as you and I that simply could no longer quell the spirit of liberty within them and from that point simply did what was rational and true to that spirit. In so doing they changed the course of history forever and for a time had the legacy of having built a country who relished in more freedom than the world has ever known.
Someone I’ve yet to point out and have deliberately done so is the sixty nine year old mom standing beside me who up until this year has never voted once in her entire life. Never been into politics, never really understood the constitution or what it actually said somehow in her gut knew that something in this country, to coin a phrase, is terribly wrong. Not quite sure of everything she’s doing or understanding what all these laws and rules being tossed around her are about, she does concretely know that whatever they mean it is absolutely essential that she be exactly where she is at this moment. She’s registered, she’s voted, she’s been elected a delegate and she’s here to stand when the good guys stand and sit when the bad guys scowl. When you get some little old lady action like that let me tell you we don’t need a revolution because our revolution is in the oven. They say that titans once walked the earth but if there’s one thing I want you to leave this yarn with its this; titans are walking now.
D.L. CRUMPTON

Valerie puts her federal reserve notes where her mouth is. This chick actually infected the ze local partee and has been building a base from the inside since the last time we and Ron Paul danced this waltz. I can only imagine how she endured the disingenuous smiles, shakes of the hand and pats on the back at the monthly eat ins from the sagging stalwarts now attempting to spit in the face of what she has heavily helped to build. Yet there she stands in the gap doing the best she can to attempt for both sides to come to a reasonable conclusion and callin’ em as she’s seein’ em. Then the unthinkable happens which makes this little lady roar with her still, small voice in utter disgust.

Kevin, the perpetual thorn in the side of your depends, had rustled up the chairmen something fierce, something to the point of making the poor man do a mix between a mister bojangles of rage and a Jack the pumpkin king impression, and Jack’s on fire. Thought his little head was going to wobble right off I did.

The chairmen pointed his finger towards the bothersome little Paul bot whose ratio of piss and vinegar was way in the favor of piss and advised him to “Sit down and Shut Up!”…..….the room was nothing but ‘Puss N Boots’ ooooohh kitties. Yup, the no pun intended cat was out of the bag. The republican senior discounted did want us in the room, they just wanted us to be in the room very, very quietly. Not even a one foot voice. Well Valerie would have none of it and used her big girl voice to let them know how unacceptable it was, all the while the dude in the corner (Ron Paul supporter) who happened to catch the chairmen flip his Centrum Silver on camera, was soon hovered over by the handy dandy police officer just trying to keep the peace and escorted out of the building. Then it was speech time and this round little grey haired man that had been fumbling with his belongings the entire time in the similitude of the skipper from “Gilligan’s Island” took the floor in a pacing, heartfelt tirade on how we all needed to stop fighting with one another and kum by yah all the way to facing off Obama with a limp one in the wrist, whatever that means.

Not content to be tussled to the floor by a man under the impression this was some type of Shakespearean speech tryout, Kevin bypasses his teary eyed warnings of Obama turning us into a communist nation with a cut right back to the heart of the matter. The main bone of contention that those who formally held the reins against us was allegedly that they had been loyal to the party for years therefore should get first pickins’ when it came to delegate slots. Kevin breaks it down into bite size kibbles and bits for them letting them know that he understands why that would seem to make a lot of sense and why they would want to do that, but surely they should see that such one sidedness is a deterrent to newcomers who have yet to prove their loyalty to the party. Then just to add an extra bitch slap he cites the party rules which so much as state the flower bed that had just blossomed from his mouth. The chairmen attempts to poke holes through the ironclad Paul Bot mentality of being right is more important than being experienced and compares this whole thing to going to have surgery. Would you rather have an experienced brain surgeon or his brand new intern? Well mister chairmen the answer is that the hypothetical brain surgeon has the wrong diagnosis which will lead to us ending up amputees, so honestly we would rather go with the intern that at least knows what the problem is. He tries to pull the “you guys wouldn’t know what to do at the next convention if you got there” routine completely ignoring the fact that the reason this meeting is running way past twelve and motions, points of discussion, and demands for division are being tossed out left and right is because we know exactly what we are doing. The next words out of his mouth are nothing less than a slight crack in the Pandora’s box of his feelings as he tries to lull us to sleep with the lullaby of how they want us to be a part of this but that they think it best to guide us along, show us the ropes, show us how to vote, what to think, what wins elections and all the other neat tricks that at last check gave us John McCain. Having already denigrated our good chap, Kevin, several times already he attempts a sooth of the wounds and begs Kevin and all those like him to simply “come along” and stop this foolishness of changing anything.

At this point I had witnessed Kevin charge the field first, Valerie flank right, these two awesome vets behind me flank left, a housewife blow the horns of war with her kick ass credentials of being an educated woman by goodly two shoes. I’d watched as the guy who recruited me into all this four years ago, Brian, like a pimp stand up completely towering over everyone in the room, throw down four hundred feddies so we could stay in the joint longer and so the wrinkle league would shut the hell up about it already. Mine eyes beheld the old guard pull a ‘Hatch’s Law’ in attempt to shut out active duty military from even being eligible to serve as delegates only to be kung fu’ed out of the room by Jarrett, this cybernetic samurai who without flinching lets his fingers do the googling only to have the actual text of the law within interdimensional nanoseconds. He stands, cites the law which is a far stretch from the interpretation of the chairmen, fights the “Sorry I smeared your butter on the wrong side of the toast” smile and simply sits like chief sitting bull concluding a negotiation that was all in his favor and best you be on your way now. At this juncture I would not have suspected that another could rise whose shadow was tall enough to cool a warm valley until this Heath fellow rose to interject.

This guy should have had a pulpit slammed right in front of him the second he got to his feet because this man was nothing less than a fire and brimstone preacher of the Truth. First thing I said to myself when he became a shining city on a hill was “Yeah…this guys packing heat.” I almost thought we were going to pass a collection plate around as Heath book, chapter and versed the old guard with a healthy portion of the gospel of liberty by breaking down that their point of us not knowing what we were doing was moot because ole Kevin over there appears to be doing this thing by the book…with a smile…a calm, cool, collected serial killer smile. This neo-John the Baptist erupts with righteous indignation towards the chairmen letting him know that it has not gone unnoticed that his “seasoned wisdom” that only wants to show us the way has only reacted to Kevin and his ilk with nothing but spurious venom since this whole thing began which not only was uncalled for but evidence that the ones having trouble understanding the rules and the point of this whole process was in fact the high pants club. All I’ve got to say about Heath after his echo of the original Baptist gangsters that made up a large chunk of the first revolutionary black robe brigade that gave us the first amendment is to steer clear of young, curvaceous ladies hauling chargers around.

The old guard pushes back with accusations that they’ve seen this sort of thing before, young insurgents show up only for the convention to attempt a hijack and then they are never heard from again, so why should we be appointed in light of that? Is it really a hijacking if you’re trying to get the wheel from a drunken granny, though? I don’t know just think about it. So Neo-John spins that top the other way around and calls on all us young wipper snappers to pledge not to do this thing today then vanish into thin air for four years, rather become involved and stick with this process all year round. What he’s actually asking us to pledge is to take over the party but you could’ve only heard that if you had your Paul Bot universal code translator activated at the time. See it pays to be a Paul Bot. Do you see Romney supporters hearing Mitty actually say that he’s really Barak Obama wearing a really cheap Halloween shop, Ronald Reagan mask? No, you bet your magic underoos you don’t. Then what I had suspected would inevitably happen, did happen. I hate to do this I really do because in writing this I had the highest of hopes that it would be a piece that does nothing but emphasize how victorious we are becoming and how victorious we are already, so as much as it pains me I’m going to have to waft down from my cloud of complimenitive platitudes and get a little snarky for a minute. Beg thy pardon.

As I have laid bare before thee many times hence, I believe in universal duality. I believe that there is certainly a negative/positive, good/evil dichotomy intrinsic to the world in which we live. I think that most of the time we become confused on which one is which due to the wretched ball and chain around our ankles known as culture. We are conditioned to view the world from the point of view of all those who have come before us in our particular people groups and it is the blinders of culture that keep us from being able to take a few steps back and actually look at this whole picture with perspective. Even for those of us who know this truth, actually doing it can still be tricky sometimes. When you do though, you might see that you have more in common with those labeled your enemy than those labeled your friend. I digress. Long and the short of it is this; where there is a positive pushing in one direction you can be pinky sworn to the fact that there is a negative challenging its progress. Regardless of good intent or no, where there is sound logic it will be opposed by logic most flawed. Where there is common sense common fiat will ever be present. Where there is an educated point of view it is guaranteed to be stridden along side of by a point of view fractured by that culture we were just talking about. Now let me illustrate the case in point with this douche wad that was sitting a few seats down from me.

First let me paint the visual, I think that’s effective. Do you remember the first victim from the movie “Seven”? The one who met his untimely demise by way of spaghetti sauce. Okay now that you have that in your mind imagine he lived, went on the Jared diet for maybe two weeks, put on a sweater vest, developed a weird Canadian\Yankee hybrid accent and then became a mormon. This is the guy sitting in my precinct and I’m sorry and honestly don’t mean to come off as being shallow and hurtful but I am simply of the opinion that because a person doesn’t know that they are complete and utter vestigals of intelligence and purpose doesn’t mean I shouldn’t point it out to them or somehow pretend it isn’t so. Not to mention, you know you dig it.

I’m a watcher you see. I like to watch people and hear them out for a little bit before I decide to interject myself into their thought process. Some are worth it some aren’t. You know what I’m talking about if you’ve ever argued or been in a conversation with someone who despite logic, reason, and wisdom refuse to concede their beliefs. The entire time you’re talking to them you just know that its futile but you keep talking anyway. Well I choose to avoid that headache and make the assessment beforehand because out of the heart of man comes the wind to the flapping lips. Well when this guy sat down at my precinct last go around I had him pegged within just a few minutes, if not the moment I saw his oversized, overinflated, overpriced, over marketed, over the rainbow Mitt Romney badge. The thing was almost the size of his breast which in case you haven’t been following the dots was big. So let me Freud this guy down for you if you’re so inclined to take the scenic route with me.

Probably raised a mormon but definitely a mormon now either way. Kind of started early in life with a little bit of a disadvantage by being big boned (not an excuse for being a douche) and due to that more likely than not became the target of ridicule by those vicious little grade schoolers in his developmental years. Then he, as have we all, reached some apex in his life where the choice had to be made. Do you, in light of your disadvantages become the perpetual victim and allow the unacceptance of the world around you to send you spiraling in a direction which ultimately leads to anger, bitterness, hatred, wrath, and the drive to force others to conform to you by means of force? Or do you simply do as one of the wisest among us said and “Empty your mind. Be formless. Shapeless, like water. Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle. If you put water in a tea pot, it becomes the tea pot Now water can flow or water can crash Be water my friend.” This man taught that there is natural instinct and control and both are extremes which cannot be solely depended on, rather both were needed in balance. This is very similar to what I mean when I speak of universal duality though that’s a different date I think. This is a philosophy which allows you to be by way of allowing others to be.

Yeah, well this guy has clearly chosen the dark side of the force and I would bet my bacon taters he’s never seen a Bruce Lee flick. Pretty early on he decided that because people picked on him he must somehow seek out power. Power for what? Well when you aren’t truly happy with who you are as a person because you measure your value as a person by the people around you, then your deepest desire is to pull a “Paint it Black” and make others change who they are to be more of a mirror image of you. I call this self validation and spun that wheel before so back to the point. So our chubby Anakin needed a field and being the high school quarterback was out of the tea leaves. It had to be in the realm of the cerebral, maybe the obtaining of massive amounts of information and gorging them down the throat of your brain only in no philosophical order in which to make any true use of the data. We use to call that a nerd when I was coming up. Well the only fields where nerds can compete are at comic book conventions and politics. True patriots do too, but on the average they try to stay as far away from government as possible until it becomes absolutely necessary for them to rise up, over take and cleanse the temple. As is our time now.

Little porky Anny opted not to chill out as a human being and stop taking things so seriously, going down the road of getting his pound of flesh while in the process convincing himself that his cause is just. You see my fellow pursuers of a harmonious zen state, there is knowledge and there is passion. Both equally dualistic. You can know everything in the world but without passion you will never be able to understand what you know. On the other side you can be passionate with ignorance at which point passion becomes what I phrase anti-passion. Anti-passion and passion are easy to discern from one another. Passion, which is infused with properly perceived knowledge always moves in the direction of freedom, peace and allowance of other human beings. Anti-passion however, always moves in the direction of bringing about peace through intolerant force. That’s the current leadership of the party, and that’s this guy. No doubt he dabbled in a few debate classes and all his friends are careful to avoid topics he might could turn into an argument because they’re sick of hearing him try to impress them with his anti-passionate rhetoric. Never works though because when he’s sitting at the huddle house sipping on a lemon water and he sees his friend pour ketchup on his scrambled eggs he just has to jump in his lap about it by bloviating on why its socially, economically, philosophically and theologically unacceptable to do so in public. Sheesh.

Here he sits thinking after all his life that he was going to come to his virgin meeting and be the bright and shining star, the flame to which the republican moths would flock to in light of his sheer brilliance. All those dreams shattered when the likes of Kevin and the other Paul Bots stole the show. I could hear him clicking his pen the entire time leading up to this moment and judging by the upswing in rapid clicks this Romnoid was punishing his pen with I knew his ego had had just about enough. There was no longer hope of him riding in on his white horse prophecy and being the bestest and the brightest with those in this room while this room was in such sweet chaos. That’s when the light bulb went off on this guys kolob and he saw an angle from which perchance he could wedge himself into the equation. He rises and addresses the chairmen in effort to bring his brew of sanity to the meeting and the first thing out of this guys mouth is that basically he doesn’t have any idea what he’s talking about. Then he said a bunch of other stuff but quite frankly at that point I started humming “How to disappear Completely” and didn’t waste my brain fat. I apologize for having such a large build up for that and then letting you down but I just had to get that out of my system because I can already tell you that if this Star Wars kid (YouTube it) sticks around ze partee after the election he and I are gonna have a lot of fuuuuuuuuun. At any rate I suppose we might have to settle for isolating the tumor some days rather than removing it completely.

At the end of the day we did pretty good I think. We managed to get most of what we wanted on the first slate and what I might on a sunny day consider a fair compromise on the second but that truly hasn’t been the point of all these words. No what this has been is an attempt to pat those deserving, a pat on the back and to the faint of heart give a message of optimism. Look, I know how bad it is. I know the world seems crazy and only seems to be getting crazier by the nightly news broadcast. I know we have to worry about these insane people who think the patriot act and the NDAA are good things wanting to run everything. I know everywhere we liberty minded folk go we always get cheated, slighted and labeled all sorts of elementary school playground tags. I know our country is following the world into an Orwellian nightmare and I know it’s happening fast, but let’s not let that make us lose sight of the truth in all of this. This dualism I always preach about, you see this is it at perfect working order. Tyranny has been allowed to plume up so fast, so far, so quick and its roots of oppression have gotten a deep, deep grip of the infrastructure. I’m just as infuriated that in our name, soldiers are being used as pawns of war and profit knee deep in the blood of innocent people in lands having no ill will towards us. I’m just as saddened when one of those soldiers can no longer bear the mental assault of what he has been ordered to do and snaps on civilians. I know how disheartened it is to feel that in the midst of all this woe most people are simply too apathetic to expect real changes. One not properly observing would assume the worst and try to cash in their chips but those of us with the pineal gland turned to 11 can see that the opposite side of the scale must now be allowed to push back. By the looks of what happened at the meeting I was present in I’d say we have a nice little 1776 part two in production here. You see in times of great tyranny we have always believed that titans walked the earth and balance was restored. The last most notable cycle we called them the founding fathers. A group of people as flesh and blood as you and I that simply could no longer quell the spirit of liberty within them and from that point simply did what was rational and true to that spirit. In so doing they changed the course of history forever and for a time had the legacy of having built a country who relished in more freedom than the world has ever known.

Someone I’ve yet to point out and have deliberately done so is the sixty nine year old mom standing beside me who up until this year has never voted once in her entire life. Never been into politics, never really understood the constitution or what it actually said somehow in her gut knew that something in this country, to coin a phrase, is terribly wrong. Not quite sure of everything she’s doing or understanding what all these laws and rules being tossed around her are about, she does concretely know that whatever they mean it is absolutely essential that she be exactly where she is at this moment. She’s registered, she’s voted, she’s been elected a delegate and she’s here to stand when the good guys stand and sit when the bad guys scowl. When you get some little old lady action like that let me tell you we don’t need a revolution because our revolution is in the oven. They say that titans once walked the earth but if there’s one thing I want you to leave this yarn with its this; titans are walking now.

D.L. CRUMPTON

Where was I? Oh, yes. The mass precinct meeting was playing out like it was being scored by one of those really great RADIOHEAD songs that starts off slow and melodic then flies into a crescendo of musical anarchy. As a matter of fact while I write this prose I am listening to ‘The Daily Mail’ repeatedly just to be able to capture the mood because truly that’s what it felt like. Right when this stone cold Kevin, the Roberts rules killa, rose to his feet the drums started beating, the bass started thumping, and Thom Yorke started to wail his intestines out.
You see, this guy was running the numbers on this slate thing. He knew that we had the most bodies in the room therefore the most votes. He knew that if the slate was a little less than proportional to the ratio of factions within the room, he could pull an NBA jam and slam dunk some of our own folks down their basket of limbaology. The question was; would he pull the trigger? Would he challenge the slate presented before us and send this thing into overdrive? Dualistically the answer is no. He would not pull the trigger because everyone knows that serial killers like this Kevin guy, aren’t really considered a bona fide serial killer if they use a gun. Kevin? Rest assured, the boys bona fide. He needs no boom stick, he has a scalpel. A razor sharp scalpel that can cut through all the red tape that’s about to be thrown at him, though this scalpel is special; this scalpel you can’t see because it’s in this guy’s head in the form of a type of biological, antikythera mechanism far beyond the technology of anything in its time or otherwise known as this guys mind. The scalpel is flicked, and our stone cold killer gets the ball a rollin’ in the direction of ensuring more Paul bots are slammed into the slate. Now for the next hour or so would be a fiery lock of the bull horns between the dedicated, due paying, sign waving, lobbyist pandering, old guard republicans and the new, fresh faced, young, energetic, passionate, young, liberty minded, educated, young, young and young Ron Paul infiltrators.
Tempers flare over the audacity of “US PEOPLE” coming in all of a sudden, out of the political woodworks hell bent on putting an end to all their warmongering, government growing, right stripping fun. Why can’t we just shut up and take a big slice of the status quo pie? Why can’t we be “realistic “and accept that the republican party would be thrusting itself on its own sword if they allowed Ron Paul to be the nominee? Look we’ve paid our dues, we’ve nestled our noses in places most unseemly in order to get where we are and by osh kosh ba gosh this is our last chance to become delegates and it’s not fair. It’s just not fair.
Look, I know I’m hitting this old thing pretty hard but you have to believe me when I say it’s nothing against old people, some of my favorite people are old. But what am I doing here? I’m using words in such a way that images will appear in your mind, if only for a flash, which will somehow convey the emotion I desire you to feel at any given moment. I call it visuwords. Now what that means is that when I describe these movers and shakers in the party in a senior citizen type way, all I’m really doing is giving you the imagery of the current ideology and direction of the party. Its old. Its feeble. It can get touchy when bath time comes around and often forgets things that happened not too awful long ago. I in no way am stating my usage of the ‘old’ terminology is positively indicating that these people are of a certain age group, rather it is intended to be taken in more of a metaphorical way. But in case you were wondering let me put it to you this way; if the tapioca pudding isn’t served just right and right on time you’re in for a stampede of walkers and tennis balls my friend.
In the midst of the throw down the chap behind my right shoulder stands up and boy does he looked pissed. Seen this guy before, never caught his name unfortunately, but won’t make that mistake in the future. This gent looks to be arounds about the same age as me which just so happens to be getting younger and younger every year, and though I don’t know beyond a shadow of a doubt, my previously discussed spidey sense tells me this guy is a veteran. I get the strong impression this young man signed up some time ago to defend his country as a patriot and to defend the constitution he swore an oath to protect only to discover once on foreign soil that the wool had been pulled over his eyes and this…this…this is not what he signed up for. Therefore I think we can allow him a little brevity to be a witches boiling brew of pissed in light of the complete and total disregard and dismissive attitude towards his service because he happens to be a Ron Paul supporter while seeking representation at his local mass meeting.
When he stands up to address the chairmen and call the old guard to the carpet by pointing out that ‘dues paying’ republicans who weren’t even present at the meeting were picked as delegates whilst his entire precinct was left a void of representation by having no one from among their ranks numbered, this man’s thunderous pissed offedness still seems to be under restraint by he who harnesses its magnitude. His face told that he was holding much more in and what we were being served up was merely the tip of a much colder, much bigger, much harder iceberg just beneath the squall. This is a man you don’t want to step in the ring with because though he’s short and white you can tell by the beaming rays of unction coming from this dude’s eyes that by the end of the tussle its him that’s getting the slo motion exit and you that gets the cheesy ‘Punisher’ movie.
As chaos continues from votes being fought tooth and nail, obvious miss rulings by the chairmen resulting in division and a near committee member diabetic dodge, there is one voice which rises with an olive branch extended to both sides. Her name is Valerie and she reminds me a lot of Captain Kathryn Janeway from Voyager; only she doesn’t have an Intrepid class starship and she’s a much snazzier dresser. If there’s anything I do know about this lassie though it’s this; if she did have an Intrepid class starship she’d put a Ron Paul sticker on the back of it. Some people of a distorted persuasion in the area of courting inflatable counterparts and I’m not implying that’s the case with Val but what I would like to propose is that in the realm of possibilities; in the event that she did have that persuasion she would have an inflatable Ron Paul but all they would do is cuddle. Maybe eat some Hagen Daz on a cloudy day and stay inside watching reruns of ‘West Wing’ or something or other. Let me scribble it in this fashion so you may better understand the dedication this woman has when it comes to the ideas that Ron Paul stands for when I say that if Kevin had indeed been some sort of serial killer, flipped out and nicked Valerie, instead of yelling “Ouch” she would without a kneejerk pause yell “End the Fed”.
Continued at the descretion of the author.

This one goes out to the ones I love. Guess what ringtone I got as my main right now? Go on guess. No? The 007 theme that’s what. Who hasn’t done that; who hasn’t hummed the James Bond theme song while stealthily skipping down the hall of a hotel at three A.M. in the morning to get a soda from the vending machine? No one. That’s who. You have, I have, and face it because your parents did too. Its cool right? Its cool to wanna waltz into a room with two beautiful women on each side where some earth shaking, plot making, espionage type things are  going on. Unfortunately most of you will never be able to do that because you still have your apathy hat on.

I walk into the County Republican Mass Precint Meeting. I’m there as a shark just waiting for the pinpricty of a pin prick of blood in the water. Hadnt quite gotten over that super Tuesday sting. Chip on the old shoulder just waiting to be knocked over the line in the sand I drew bout fifteen feet back. Now I understand the side of the Ron Paul movement that wants to compromise with the old guard, maybe let bygones be bygones and play nice with one another. The last time that happened the Tea Party was sucked right back into the belly of the beast so for me and my house I don’t think that’s the wisest courses of action. Not that we arent still united in the direction of liberty, just a minor disagreement. I was simply raised with the philosiphy of you’ve got the be the firstest with the mostest. In my opinion the liberty movement needs to make a break hard right and run towards the goal full steam knocking down every structure in front of them which exist to simply prop up the ever expanding tarantula of a federal government. But that’s me.

I just don’t see why we would want to dine with the devil with such a short fork. These people are like really old vampires who don’t want to suck our blood they want to suck our votes and absorb our numbers so they can spit out the bone of our ideals. These cronies running the rebublican party look at you kind of like a child mollester and that’s not much of an exageration. I mean I can see them sitting in the drivers seat of a lincoln with the door open and open hand extended filled with special candy. That’s a ride you don’t want to take. They take you to bad places. Scary places. Places where you have to always do the lesser of two evil thing. Niether evil is not evil.

So once in the door I wade into a sea of smiling faces. Smiling shark like faces. Sharks with daggers and special candy in their fin. Guess we’re all just a school of sharks in this room. Only with the nod of a head from anyone under thirty would you know that the Paul Bots had infiltrated this shin dig like fluid oil seeping into every crevice of every cog in the machinery of a terrifying behemoth know as the neoconservative republican party. Everything starts out pleasant but like a duck whose glide is on the surface graceful; underneath that thing is brewing up a storm of uspeakables. The unexpected swell of bodies in this little meeting one by one go to have their names checked off the roll and get their super special kids club membership badge. Then a mad dash to the coffee and doughnuts. I don’t even eat doughnuts and I dashed because I just want to eat the republican party’s doughnut so, so bad. Me and Red try to act casual with our little Styrofoam cups in one hand and our Dixie plate in the other with aforementioned doughnut snugly on top. We’re not casual though. We’re only acting casual because what we are really doing is scoping this joint out. We are eyeballing for anyone with and ‘END THE FED’ button or a ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ meanie snake ready to strike. After a one over we turn in our paypaz and mingle for a moment with other subversives who we know for sure are on our side. Once the meeting is called into session everything was still all smiles and to the uninformed it would appear as if that would not change. To them it would seem this would be a quick in and out. Oh…the uninformed were in for a real bottom of the cearel box treat and I’m not talking about the one’s you have to cut off the box and put together. No sir I speak of the ones you use to race your siblings to the bottom of the sugary, chemical filled, breakfast supplement  box in order to claim it as your own. From this point on I’m going from memory and have only that to rely on as to what transpired so I apologize beforehand if any of my exact exactments turns out to be not exactly precise.

We are all nicely planted in our seats which are gloriously adorned with printer paper dressed in district numbers affixed carefully with dull, scotch tape. The chairmen steps forward and calls it a match. Now as the nominating committee diligently works hard in the back to prepare a slate that will make the nice little Paul bots happy, those of us in the hall are in for a geriatric talent show of epic proportions for the next two hours. The good old “anybody but Obama” pep talk was rattled off from local republican movers and shakers and for the most part we kept our chins in the upright and locked position. We all know what ginsu knife suicide theology that really is. The chairmen kept stalling as it became glaringly obvious that the nominating committee was having quite a difficult time figuring out how they were gonna manage to get their slates through without awaking the terrible dragon. Complaints of having to be out of the building by noon or additional charges to ze partee would result was quite the sleight of hand to put a sense of urgency in the crowd. We’ve got to get this thing wrapped up now, we’ve got to move along because there is nothing to see. Let’s just not pay the slates to much attention here so we can hustle on out.

This one was coming to the wire. Just a clean shave after twelve the head of the nominating committee came out and as she rattled off the names from the slate my spidey sense kicked in. Yes I have a spidey sense. Everything gets all slow around me and I can see the preconcussion wave of the waste about to engage the rotating blades of the cooling device. I can hear in the whistle of the tea pot a symphony of utterances from a people that have been pushed to Picard’s line and will not be pushed further. Then this mild mannered looking guy stands up and my spidey sense flips to my matrix bullet time vision showing me every pacemaker in the room skipping a cycle or two.

This guy’s name was Kevin and though he is mild mannered to look at you have to understand that that’s the best way to be when you’re a stone cold killer. I’m not pulling an appendage here, this guy is like Dr. Hannibal Lecter with a Ron Paul bumper sticker on his medical kit. He stands up, he starts swiping out some Robert’s Rules and has every cancer spot in the room thrown his way as all heads whip to his general direction. Want to know how many beads of sweat was on this guy’s brow? None because I already told you he’s like Hannibal Lecter, in fact if anyone who knows him happens to read this you are no longer permitted to address him by his Christian name rather you shall only refer to him as Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Contiued at another time.

I’m pretty sure that the reason we, as a people, all suddenly decided to stop saying WWW in front of websites in the 2000’s was solely due to everyone wanting to distance themselves as far away from the fart for brains, bumbling sock puppet, prezzy we had in the White House as humanly possible. Is it just me or did everyone else get a nice clean peak at the sheer stupidiocity of the inner gears of our government when the republican party put forth an old bobble head of the first George Bush? The Texas version of Dudley Moore’s ‘Arthur’ comes from a family monarchy, can barely coagulate two words together to make a sentence that doesn’t embarrass us all as a nation, becomes president and I’m expected to believe we have a fair and legal voting system?
When he could manage to pry his lips away from the bottle and string a thought into words that somewhat could be unscrambled like an anagram into an idea which could be considered communication the quack was somewhat nice. No world policin’, no gubment growin’, no entanglin’ liances. With all this talk of peace it looked like we were in for a four year golfer…until…well you know the rest. We all had some somber days, some paranoid days, some days of weeping but not much time to actually consider how wise, logical, or just it would be to somehow balance the scale by blowing up a lot of brown people. A whole lot of brown people. Like stop for a second and think about everyone in your family that you know. Now times that by a lot. Now drop mortar shells on all of them. That’s what we started. That’s what we are doing. I’m sorry if that hasn’t dawned on you yet but it really should. And soon please.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one, umkay? This Saudi Prince that writes checks for Dubya to start oil business’s hooks up with the C.I.A to start a little gang of misfits called Al Qaeda in order to tickle the Russians in their nether regions, ok? Follow me now. Anyhoo this guy helps bring down our enemies with his rag, tag, rocket launchin, fanatics whose checks are sent from Langley then whattya know he turns right round baby right round and sends a few darts our way. Really big darts. With people in them. Now he was from the magical land of Afghanistan, boys and girls, so the good guys had to suit up to find and slay the evil dragon exactly where he slumbered. The magical kingdom of…you guessed it, Iraq. Where the legendary weapons of mass destruction lay in invisible bunkers protected by fairies….oh and there’s oil there too but who cares about that, right?
Back in the mother land the fear is drummed up in color coded charts just to remind you of how terrified you’re supposed to be of maybe getting C.I.A developed anthrax in the mail post marked “From Muslim Extremist With Love” right there on the front. Quick! While the people are frozen in fear and unified in blind wrath we shall offer them the illusion of safety! We shall give them the Patriot Act! By God, it will be the perfect snake eating all of its tail before it eats all of him scenario! It will protect the constitution by completing nullifying the constitution. We shall preserve their rights by taking them away. The weepy part of all this is that this little bait and switch worked.
Yes they put the word Patriot on it and every congressman with a pen (save one I know) scribbled their little Benedict Arnold on it like the little scum sucking French whores that they are. So at the end of it all what’d we get? We got bigger government, bigger wars, bigger erosion of civil liberties, bigger world policing. We got the habit of looking in our closets’, under our beds, in our medicine cabinets, at the library, at the grocery store, in the cab, out of the cab, back in the cab because you got to get home and then all throughout the house to make sure there wasn’t a terrorist in there. Because in case you haven’t heard they hate us because we are free. We are free to give up our freedom to be protected from those who hate us because we are free. Now I don’t think, had ye not the history books and the magic of Google you would believe me if I told you that at the end of that mystical, magical presidency…the one who doesn’t need to focus on fish and people coexisting as much as people and people coexisting…got reselect…reelected.

Golden microphone? Check. Tailored suit? Check. Private jet furnished with Cuban cigars? Check. Now we can take to the sky with our course set to the secret volcano base of douchebaggery secure that we will arrive right on time with captain Rush. Who else can throw in your face that he’s an egomaniacal douche bag with the subtly of salmon being slapped across your face and yet still claim to millions of listeners that his opinions are completely selfless and for the greater good of the country. The man advertises that he’s an intoxicatingly arrogant and narcissistic blowhard every moment of his show and yet his listeners manage to make mental back flips into thinking he is doing them a service.
I say captain Rush because of all the members of the pundit league he would be most identifiable with Captain America from the Avengers. Now wait just a second because in associating the two it is not my intent to denigrate Steve Rogers, it’s just that Rush was the first to take action in the talk radio world and all the other members of the league look to him for leadership. The connection has nothing to do with actually defending the United States of America or being a patriot at all.
Now my instinct is to go a little easier on Rush because quite honestly I think that he sincerely believes the things that he says and for the most part isn’t getting his agenda entirely from Langley Virginia or receiving checks from the C.I.A, but then again it does seem blatantly obvious that the C.I.A is writing their scripts from what he says so I take back that going a little easier thing. Honestly, and to be most truthful about Rush Limbaugh, I have to say that I actually feel sorry for him, I actually can sympathize.
You have to keep in mind that this man has spent his entire life building something. Now normally we would admire people who build great works of art, or music, or sculptures but Rush is overlooked in the area of being a great builder. You see he has dedicated his entire life to the building of this outlet of information known as talk radio and he has been quite successful in his endeavor. Because of what he has done there would be no other member of the pundit league which would enjoy the lavish and luscious lifestyle they enjoy as they spout off their point of view in a hot tub that costs more than my house or your house. Yet, most builders who are inspired by the spirit of the Universe are building to edify the least of the ranks of mankind, Rush Limbaugh and his ilk are not precisely following this model. They are building structures which only prop up their own name and whittling wood to ensure that each plank of their creation somewhere has their fancy little signature. This is the type of thing Rush has built. He has built a syndicate of talking faces which all repeat the same misinformation in an attempt to nudge the majority in a certain direction, which happens to always be the slaughter house, and rock them to sleep under the notion that they are watching out for them. This empire was successful for a time, and for a time it was good.
No great builder, or creator, wishes to see what they have built crumble in front of their eyes. They hope and they pray that they will have shuffled off this mortal coil long before it slips through their fingers like gold dust, yet this is where captain Rush now finds himself. Now I’m sure his numbers are only going up and the bankroll just keeps on a growin’ but when you reach the high position he, and the other pundit league members, have in the public eye the financial aspect is just balloonish. So what do I mean when I say his empire is crumbling?
Our collective, cultural, consciousness has written in its DNA a deep distrust for the government and a great disdain towards the politicians which slither in its halls. Even without all the facts we feel deep down in our bubble guts that most of those teleprompter reading leaches are up to no good as far as our liberties and freedoms are concerned. For a good bit of our history in this great experiment we were dependent on the information given to us from the newspapers and news channels which manage to always seem to drop the ball of honest reporting and put a slant on the stories to keep most people either in the dark or looking at the wrong people for the cause of our woes. At the time captain Rush rose to the airwaves, he offered something rare, namely an alternate source of news with a seemingly antagonistic viewpoint to the government. Americans like this sort of thing so he built an audience rather quickly and most of that was enabled due to the downside of American mentality; dereliction of duty in the area of knowing history. As I have said before, so now I say again; most Americans have not read the constitution since grade school and that reading was probably a little sketchy at best. So they have a sense of what it might or might not say, and they at least have the feeling that the constitution is a good thing, but don’t actually know and unfortunately most Americans shirk their responsibility to know this document and opt to instead memorize statistics for useless sports teams which have no impact on their life.
So for a few decades captain Rush, and the other members of the pundit league were able to gain a following by portraying themselves as defenders of the constitution and the watchdogs of Washington alerting the masses when government swayed away from it. This solidified and strengthened the term Alex Jones has coined (and quite accurately so) the left\right paradigm. It lumped Americans into one of two groups, left or right, republican or democrat. This technique plays to our natural instinct of being a part of a tribe or a unit of some kind and defending it from an outside tribe or unit. It was in this environment that captain Rush laid his bricks for an empire of deception. The pundit league, lead by captain Rush, have enjoyed the wealth of listeners and their trust and it is this foundation which now is slipping away from them quickly.
Finally the pendulum is swinging right back the other way with laser point precision and aimed directly at Rush Limbaugh’s neoconservative testicles. Aside from recently getting caught on air with the drivel of the liberal lip, and having to back pedal a whole hearted, half hearted apology; our favorite, bloated, prick in a suit is starting to bleed out from where he was gutted. Not only has the slutscipade deprived him of some of the biggest cash cow sponsors, his credibility is being shot in the douche bag golf shoes he so oft wears and into the foot of excellence in propagandizing. I’m sorry but you cannot say for twenty plus years on the air that you are a small government conservative and then when it comes down to the wire shun the only candidate who actually does what you expect us to believe you would have them do.
Oh, I get it. I get the anybody but Obama shtick but to tell you the truth I got this dog see, and this dog well he aint exactly the sharpest knife in the bulb so to speak, but one thing’s for sure; even my dog understands that your head would have to be up your ass farther than his to ingest that nonsensical line of reasoning. Anybody but Obama…so here’s you a little Jo Stalin. Naw Naw Naw, don’t fret don’t sweat. We knows he’s a mass murderin’ dictatin’ thug but hey…anybody but Obama. I mean how do you honestly expect to keep the mice following your tune when the notes are hitting all the wrong keys? I’m sure there will always be the faithful though so chin up Rush; I’m sure some of them can still hook you up with the lady.

STATE OF THE UNION PART TWO

January 30, 2012

            The two party system will save us. It after all has done so well for us thus far has it not? Well lets walk that path, toss a pebble in the pond at its end and see what ripples remain. When I was a kid Reagan was president. Republican guy. Now I cannot say fairly that I was observing politics from one to nine, but hindsight is said to be crystal clear and I have this funny affinity for history. Though his well written words were brilliantly delivered with all the delight of an overrated actor from the fifties, his actions were somewhat of a one eighty. Yes, we can thank Mr. Reagan for the second coming of prohibition ( a grand success if you happened to be inclined to become employed by organized crime ) known commonly as the war on drugs. What better way to say I’m a conservative than by using the force of government to dictate the decisions a people will make in regards to personal choices about what goes into an individual’s body? Now correct me if I’m in the red on this but when you a declare a war on drugs are you not begging for more departments to regulate such a war, more bureaucrats to people them and of course we can’t forget the cherry on top; namely grunts willing to knock a door over with a battering ram in your local suburb and arrest Jimmy and Tammy down the street with zip ties for having seeds from an herb in their home. Don’t think for a second we aren’t going to pay for all that and the cool batmanesque toys said grunts will demand in order to lock more people up for non violent offenses in corporation ran prisons to be pimped out for slave labor such as their phasers, tasers, mace, body armor, zip ties, zip ties, zip ties, combat boots, l-rads, armored cruisers, zip ties, license plate readers, laptops, facial recognition scanners, zip ties, handcuffs, zip ties, portable thumb scanners, night sticks, flashlight, zip ties, blast shield, incendiary helmets, zip ties, holding facilities, zip ties, zip tie holders and holders for zip tie holders. So with the new war on drugs, the government only grew. Let’s not even mention the department of education, or the ministry of truth if rights be told. Though the rhetoric of this president was bold and as constitutional as you could hope for, his actions told a different tale.

            So as my pineal gland began to calcify, and the grade levels kept going up, I found myself aware of a man named George Bush. Now at the time this guy came to power I was just discovering that girls weren’t all that icky after all, so forgive the foggy recall. However the first thing I remember regarding ole George, read my lips, Bush was the images of night vision goggles in a desert somewhere complete with neon dots ripping across the sky and tearing open anything in their paths. I seem to remember something about pre emptive war in a nation controlled by a dictator we installed a few years prior. Throughout the Bush years we continued to hear about this “New World Order” that now doesn’t seem to exist, and if you utter its name it’s as if the words had never been strung together at all. I seem to remember that though my country was at war, I was not, and though there had been people that had died, I had not.

            By my next major biological leap I understood that my president was William Jefferson Clinton. Ole slick Willy as the people in the radio call him. Now this is awkward because I now am pretty sure that I had probably not completed the entire process of puberty, however there must have been some residual, psychological sort of element which altered me forever. I was quite confused on what to think about a man in the greatest seat of power caught up in scandal after scandal with the ugliest of interns in the ugliest of circumstances. Sprinkled in between his escapades of ugly women were the bombings. If memory serves me well we bombed Somalia, Yugoslavia, Bosnia, Haiti, Croatia, Zaire, Liberia, Albania,  Sudan, Afghanistan, Iraq, Yugoslavia and Yemen during the peaceful democratic administration. Another observation of Clinton’s administration that has always stuck with me was the incidents at Ruby Ridge, followed closely by Waco Texas. Now granted I had yet to fully cement a worldview at the time do to rabid skirt chasing, however I still managed to understand that something was terribly wrong with what happened in both instances. It was obvious that both groups of people had come to the conclusion that government was destructive and intrusive and wanted nothing to do with it. Each made the decision to detach themselves as much as possible from the sphere of governments influence  and simply be left alone to live life as they saw fit. Their reward for such a bold notion? Snipers, tanks, ATF. The federal government committed mass murder on live television under the guise of defeating an evil cult and its leader who was characterized as an arms dealer of sorts. In short, the theory that these people had that the government was destructive and intrusive was not only made but underlined in bold and ended with an exclamation point which cost them their lives.

            The attitude of a lot of people back then was that the media was telling the truth and those cultists got what they deserved for having such crazy beliefs. Yes, most people flippantly made jokes about Jeffrey Dahmer running to Waco Texas with a bottle of barbeque sauce before the bodies of the women and children that died there had even stopped smoldering with smoke. It was only after a series of years that I along with most other people actually contemplated the events of Ruby Ridge and Waco Texas, watched all the footage of the raids on underground VHS tapes, which ultimately wound up on the newly budded internet, and brought pause to the usual conclusion that the government did what was right and perhaps those that were killed were victims of a government that was starting to creep more and more into all our daily lives. After all, maybe the beliefs of the Weavers and the followers of David Koresh weren’t as insane as we were lead to believe and even if they were what would keep some Washington bureaucrats from one day pointing at you and I with the same accusations of being in a cult or gun running because we have more than a couple of firearms in our compound…I mean home.

            The Clinton administration had yet another gift for us, the American people, before passing the torch over to the republicans to “straighten things out”, the now overshadowed and epic terrorist event of the Oklahoma City bombing would be the beginning of the federal government turning its sights (both closed circuit cameras as well as AR-15s) inwards towards its own people. You see, with the hindsight thing we spoke about earlier, you can look back and see that even back before the internet boom when information travelled at the speed of fax there was a minority of people who still managed to keep up with what was going on in the world and were outraged at the state sponsored murder at Rudy Ridge and Waco and investigations were looming. Sparsely sprinkled throughout the United States were still patches of people calling themselves patriots who had managed to have the principals of our founding fathers engrained within them, having been passed on for generations. These people began to point out that government was overstepping its bounds in every way with militarism and over regulations and the expansion of the welfare state and their sounds of descent had to be silenced.

            So when a “homegrown” Timmy McVeigh was plastered across all our television screens as someone who was angry at the government, specifically the incidents at Rudy Ridge and Waco Texas, those who were speaking out about the government seemed to lower their voices for a little while. Who wants to be the nail sticking up to get the hammer in a world where “domestic terrororists” ”militia groups” and “patriot organizations” allegedly were responsible for the dead babies in the only federal building in the country with a nursery. Sure there had been ATF agents tipped off not to go to work that morning, sure there was already a bomb squad having coffee or what have you the morning of right across the street, and yes multiple news outlets captured said bomb squads hours later pulling back to retrieve secondary devices that were reported to be much bigger than the initial device. These little “details” managed to escape the mainstream media just as the notion that there had actually been a second man involved who seemingly vanished into thin air as well as Langley Virginia’s memory hole.

            As deranged and farfetched as those years seemed, you would hardly believe me when I say it gets much much worse unless you too also had heard of the man known as George Dubya.

 

To be continued…

D.L. Crumpton

STATE OF THE UNION PART ONE

January 23, 2012

We are on the cusp, lassies and laddies. We are on the absolute cusp of the turning point in history and I look around and wonder just how many of you out there are actually aware of this fact. You see one of the first things you notice when you manage to fiddle your fingers to the back of your skull with the direct desire of removing the plug inserted into your cerebellum, is that our generation (and when I say our generation I mean those of us privileged enough to be alive on this planet at this particular moment in time) has been somehow deceived into believing that there is no more history. We have been fitted with the collar of obedience by thinking that all that can happen has happened already and all we are doing is holding down the fort. I cannot express to you how futile and fruitless that line of thinking actually is. Let’s take a real, long, hard look at this shall we.

            Lets face it, most of the people alive today might as well be soaking in the cyber pod simulated reality we see so prevalent in science fiction these days. Their world may be only in the early days of such a matrix but we on the outside can see the desired effect has still been achieved. Most people’s idea of how the world is and how the world should be is directly formed by the monster in our living rooms and bedrooms known as the television. It, for the masses, has written a narrative of reality and the masses have swallowed it sweet in their mouth and bitter in their belly. They walk around in an unprofound daze, these left brainers as I coin them. Only able to have thoughts in the left side of their brain which we all know lacks the creativity and imagination which is required to really get what’s going on here. Their best friends are judges on meaningless idol shows, their dearest family ties are in the sitcoms they never miss, and what they will wear to work tomorrow will indeed be predetermined by someone spotted on the red carpet of a place made of stone and sand like every other place. They will passionately pronounce their theories on why so and so should win the singing contest, or have a winded discourse on why Jennifer Lopez done been did dirty to but what do you expect from those of us who were raised on MTV and babysat by Kurt Loder and Kennedy? We are a generation that willingly walk around like human commercials and billboards adorning ourselves with name brand sneakers and trendy shirts with logos emblazed across the front so others passing us by know round about how much we spent for a shirt or a pair of jeans that otherwise is inferior when it comes to actually serving the purpose of covering us up and sparing us from the elements. Our cars have now become clownish candy wrappers and the vocabulary of the many has been reduced to what can fit into a text on the face of the latest cell phone that we fit snugly into the back pocket of our pants which now have to be pulled up every other second because their usual placement is well below the area of the crotch.

            There are some in this stock having one foot firmly planted in the materialistic, realize that perhaps they should also be somewhat aware of what’s going on in the world in case they are ever engaged in a conversation about such topics. So they dabble in the realm of world news, and in my estimation are much more dangerous to us than those who simply choose to ignore it all together. The reason I say this is because they limit their delving of the news to small sound bites or five minute pieces aired on the propaganda channel of their choice and walk away feeling they are fully informed when in fact they couldn’t be more ignorant than they were before. Yet, with this flimsy idea of knowing what’s going on they actually go out and vote sometimes and heaven forbid; run for public office on occasion. If there is any doubt to this statement all you need to do is take a look at the current field of candidates running for president of these United States. How is it possible that such a gang of no nothings have managed to slither upwards into the public eye and somehow convince a multitude that they are operating on all cylinders in the area of logical and rational thought? They have though, and what are the fruits of this labor?

            Our country is suppose to be different. Its suppose to be a beacon of freedom, peace and prosperity for the world to envy and to top it all off we invite the downtrodden to make their way to our shores and become a part of such a great experiment, namely a nation not ruled by monarchs or the power elite, but ruled by the people who are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights. To secure this we even have a document called the constitution which enshrines these ideas and to which we demand all in office swear an oath of allegiance to its inklings. How’s that working out for us? Not so good I would have to say. We look to our economy and see it is completely controlled by a privately owned Federal Reserve which can simply print up unseemly amounts of monopoly dollars at the drop of a hat…any hat, and often done before congress can put its hand out. The money is created from thin air, loaned out, and on it interest which is passed on to you and I to pay back with the curious technicality of it actually being impossible to pay back never brought up. I mean have you ever stopped to think about our national debt? Have you ever wondered how insane it is that we are suppose to live in the wealthiest most powerful country in the world yet somewhere on Times Square is a billboard with digital numbers in the negative racing across the eye at warp speed? I mean, you, Billy Smith or Ethel Jones, why is it that you feel obligated to take your hard earned money, money you have created by the sweat of your brow and the passion of your heart, money which in all actuality says something about your value as a human being and send it off to a system which will put it to uses you probably despise and find abhorrent? What are we doing? Why do we not all see the madness of this and if by chance we do why are we only shrugging our shoulders as if this is the way its suppose to be?

            I assume that none of us are actually still under the illusion that there is a terrorist hiding under every doormat or that all our mail is being spiked with anthrax cocktails. I’m sure that most of us know by now that the myth of radical Islamism coming to kill us in our shopping malls is nothing more than a creepy bed time story to keep us distracted from the fact that the C.I.A is actually responsible for putting drugged out, brown skinned, teenagers on airplanes with M-80’s in their fruit of the looms to keep the show going. So why is it then that our government can pass laws like the NDAA which aims to protect Americans by making all Americans terrorists, forever deprived of habeas corpus and subject to a black bag over the head never to be seen again? Why would we allow them to do this knowing full well that the war on terror is actually a war on the frightened and insecure? How is it that we consistently fail to heed the warnings of Ben Franklin when told never to sacrifice liberty for security?

            These crusty old suits filled with what once were men who congregate in the halls of the district of Columbia and simply throw darts at a map of the middle east to choose where next they will claim their little Frankenstein, Al Qaeda is plotting and planning take no thought to the lives which will be shattered and lost at their whimsical wars. They do not see children kissing their uniformed father goodbye, possibly for the last time. They cannot hear the cries of the maimed and crippled civilians of the countries they send eighteen year olds to fly a video game controlled predator drone over reigning hellfire below as it whizzes by. No, the fact that our military has an epidemic of suicides and untreated PTSD does not phase them at all. The depleted uranium which caresses the ammunition they use seeps into their skin and sends them home with a lot of little unexpected treasures like testicular cancer for one, or two. Those of us who have compassion on the soldiers and civilians caught up in a spider web neither weaved and stand up to suggest that perhaps we should stop abusing their loyalty to follow orders by sending them all around the world in wars as of yet undeclared, we are branded with labels like unpatriotic or accused of not supporting the troops. As if sending young men and women into the battle field for three, four, five on up tours of duty which is undoubtedly taking a toll on their psyche somehow equals supporting the troops.

To be continued…

NEAL BOORTZ

No you have not mistakenly tuned into a strange, Japanese game show where the current challenge is to attempt speaking with a bowl full of clam chowder in your mouth; It’s just how Neal Boortz speaks. Yes it might seem that they actually gave the Gun Gun big chief a nationally syndicated radio show but you’d be wrong in that logical conclusion. Neal Boortz is the libertarian of the bunch. Have you stopped belly laughing yet? I know, I know. The notion that this bitter old insider is actually a libertarian brings up the same imagery from Waco Texas when the ATF kept mega phoning that they were not attacking as they tanks kept on a rollin’.

Boortz, like all the other pundits pull this mind trick all the time. You see this is the thing, they have to pretend to be objective observers that don’t have dogs in the fight so the last thing any of them do is say they are republicans. They say they are conservatives, or libertarians, or constitutionalist but isn’t it funny how they always seem to back the candidate that just so happens to have an R after their name. See this objective observer routine is a mind game played to keep the meek of mind hooked to their every word because it connects a few wires together in their simple minds that say “Hey I’m an objective observer and so is he. He sounds like he does his research on all this political stuff and I’m a little too lazy to research it for myself so it would save time if I just trusted what this guy says and accept those as my own beliefs.”. In addition it keeps people listening because the overlords of dark-hatchery know that most people aren’t exactly pleased with either party right now and would less likely swallow the drivel from someone claiming to be a card carrying member of the GOP.

Neal Boortz so wanted to be a rock star when he was a kid. He had probably filled his parents basement from corner to corner with posters of James Dean in the epic teen hit “Rebel without a Cause”. He wanted to stand on the stage, he wanted to feel the heat of the lights and be showered in the tossing of carefully and individually rolled left handed cigarettes from groupies yet to remove toss able undergarments. Unfortunately he was talentless and unappealable as a human being growing up so he came up with the idea of becoming a radio show host or a lawyer, whichever came first. Now, that should be enough. I should be able to say that the guy is a lawyer and you should be able to draw the rest of the condescending commentary I intend to write in your own mind. Then again, I would be acting lazy as a writer, and derelict in my duties to offer perspective if I did not roll on and on.

So picture KISS only much, much older than they are with walkers wobbling out on stage to do one last version of “Dr. Love” to show that even at sixty, or however old Boortz’s jiggle chin is, you still rock. Neal Boortz basically is in an ever ineffective impersonation of Howard Stern, but for politics. He wants to come off as hard core. He’s hardcore, he’s in your face, he says the cold, hard truth, he tells it like it be, he goes for the jugular…or so he wants you to believe. As edgy as he wants to be and as abrasive as he likes to be portrayed he is merely mocking exactly what all the other members of the pundit league are saying only in a much ruder and cruder way. I’m sorry mister Boortz, just because you quack the status quo in a loose languaged way doesn’t mean you are controversial. It just means you lack the ability to structure your thoughts in an enlightened way.

Each regurgitated talking point from the echo chamber of the neoconservative is laced with urban curse words that Boortz is either poorly parroting or trying to create and insert into the vernacular. He feels that he is so hardcore he must be what Levin calls a “backbencher”, or one not assigned to large audiences because the masses aren’t ready for how bone breakingly truthful he is. It has yet to dawn on him that the reason he has yet to be heralded in the ranks of the Hannity or Limbaugh is merely because his very voice invokes gag reflexes in the necks of his listeners. That, and he’s an idiot. You can tell just by listening to those who work with him like Belinda, that none of them really like him that much but must walk a tightrope of toleration because he unfortunately is their cash cow.

Wait a second though, you might say to yourself, he has all these great ideas about the fair tax. He even wrote a few books about with numbers and percentages and facts and figures. Yes its true, he has written books to make it sound complicated and make you think that it’s all so complicated and at some point you will abandon your common sense. What he doesn’t want you to know that the fair tax and the 999 thing is all trimmings to a cake you do not have to eat. It’s the shifting of chairs on a Titanic like ship called the income tax which you have never stopped to ask whether or not you are obligated to pay. You just pay it.

So sure, Boortz may have great ideas on how to pay a tax but what he fails to bring up is that the tax he’s talking to is fraudulent and this country really hasn’t paid it for all that long and when you get right down to it; shouldn’t. I mean think about it for a minute. Fair tax? A tax that is fair? A tax which takes money from the work and sweat of your own hands and is turned around and spent on programs and ideas you find repulsive? Do you really want to pay for murdering babies, do you really want to pay for shoving missiles up sixteen year old afghan’s ass in the back of taxi cabs, do you really want to pay for Homeland Security to record your conversations and put you in an internment camp? Of course you don’t. So why would it be rational for those in the ranks of the pundit league to design a more efficient way for you to pay for said programs unless they were blocking the point?

Whoa. Did we just go there? Yes we did. We went to the place Boortz and his pundit league friends don’t want us to go; Common Sense land. You see if he can get the passive listeners to believe that he is somehow more qualified to ascertain what is right and what is wrong within the halls of our government then perhaps he can get them to let their guard down and trust that people like him and his league are guarding them from the enemies at the gates. Boortz cant snag that confused, bible thumping crowd that seems to think that a roman catholic Sean Hannity shares their alleged worldview, or the gaggle of sheep like people who follow the staff of Mark Levin, so he has to cast his net to the middle aged men who want to still feel perky and edgy. They probably have mullets and have yet to remove Guns and Roses “Use your Illusion Part One” from the tape deck of their ford bronco. These guys grew up at the strangest of times, the eighties, and never got around to really learning history or how government works, or what the constitution actually says so they just rest on the laurels that what this fowl mouthed senior citizen lawyer is saying is the solid.

Following the same tune as the other pipers, Neal Boortz also has this fixation that Muslims are all born with a manual in their hand instructing them on how to build a vest packed with C-4. Those in the middle east are nothing more than ravaging lunatics who may walk and talk like human beings, but in actuality ticking time bombs from birth. Of course he has to flap his cloak in obscurity by saying “radial Muslim” but you get what he is saying. He trusts that you can read between the lines and nod along with him as anyone who happens to be a Muslim has now just become suspect and open to inspection…for national security reasons of course. After all, isn’t it libertarian to sacrifice your rights like a thirteen year old hottie at a frat party in order to feel safe and secure? This is the storm of contradiction the listener of the Neal Boortz Show must sail through in order to come to any logical conclusions on their own as to what is simply right and what is simply wrong.

There is much more I could say about Neal Boortz because the breadth and the height and the depth and the width of his obtuse notion of philosophy is so grounded in the realms of nonsensory, entire volumes could be written about the shallowness of his very being. So for the sake of time and for the time of mine faithful reader I shall retreat for a time.

To be continued…

D.L. Crumpton

MARK LEVIN

Not far from the shadow of the Hannity we almost certainly will find his bestest friend ever, Mark Levin. Now I have to admit that I haven’t left my radio dial on his frequency for too awful long a time because hearing him leaves me emotionally distraught due to the fact that I love Bugs Bunny and the nasal tones from Mark Levin are indistinguishable from said wascally wabbit being strangled to death. I mean is it just me or whenever he goes to a caller you just know he’s gonna snap out with “What’s up doc?” followed by the crackling of a carrot and summarized with a gurgling choke. It isn’t my intention to belittle the man for his handicap in the area of producing actual sounds with vocal chords it’s just my intention to belittle him for being an insecure bloviator. I mean I can’t be the only one to pick up on the deep Freudian thing he has going which broadcasts to the world that he’s probably never been in a fist fight in his life (or at least one where he did anything other than curl up in the fetal position whilst singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow” through sobbing tears of snot) and not only is he a little bitter about that but also relieved knowing full well that without a mute button it’s very difficult to come off as tough when at best your body’s peak condition is comparable to that of a ferangi spice merchant.

            So Mark Levin has a problem. If we were in a more Viking like society, or say a society where the excessives were stripped away or it came down to a hunter\gatherer scenario and the guys with the clubs ruled the tribe subject only to the guys with the clubs attached to very big arms…Mark Levin would not fare so well. I think what I’m trying to say is that little Marky Mark was the guy that stood solitary after both dodge ball captains had picked their lot from the best to the least and aww shucks Marky we just can’t have uneven team numbers so you’ll just have to go over there and sit on the bleachers. This no doubt has scarred the fibers of Mark Levin’s psyche and forever propelled his destiny towards that of over compensating.

THE TELEVISION PLASTIC PEOPLE

Luckily for him we do not live in a world where a person contributed real things for real people akin to the “primitive” tribes that live in the jungles of Africa or Australia lest they be dispatched with. Alas; we live in a world of fantastical illusionary halls of mirrors filled with smoke and strobe while a magic show is performed inside each and every one. Our world is one in which men and women in suits and tight skirts sit behind desks mindlessly reading from teleprompters as words and numbers and statistics and Dows and Jones and nasdaqs and polls and graphs and charts and tweets and texts and like me’s and on and on and on flash across all sides of the screen’s perimeter. These poor people have no clue what they are reading and never seem to connect that the man shot down dead by the police downtown last night was a real person with a real family that will miss him. Sure they may fawn a frown but when Steven comes in with sports they’re all smiles again. As strange and dethatched as this seems millions of Americans still take the information they are fed by these people and translate it into reality. In a sane world I would suspect that thinking people would ask the question once in a while “Well I know these people in the television are reading from something but who’s doing the writing?” but then again taking the time to ponder that might cut into my X-Factor time.

LEVIN FINDS HIS CALLING

            Yes, soulless pop icons wail corporate rhymes and rhythms of indoctrination teaching our youth what is cool; what is trendy. Because you have to be trendy. You have to be in. You have to be it. You have to have the latest, newest, flashiest, priciest. A guide will be provided; his name is Jay Z (or some other ridiculous pirate nick name) and you may trust him to show you what material objects you just gotta have this year. We care more about what cute hybrid name we can come up with to refer to the most recent Hollywood break up\hook up\ divorce than we do about our aunt who just lost her husband and might just need someone to talk to right about now. We live through action heroes on giant movie screens doing impossible things though portrayed by people with serious character flaws who often do things most humiliating. Yet still we exalt the actor or actress and shower them with rivers of money. It’s a mirage. It’s unreal. It’s trickery. What is true in the movies or on the news is not always true in the real world with real people. It is in this garden a man like Mark Levin can flourish.

            So once he figured that the best option for him in this world would be to enlist in the folds of mini-celebrities that are common to failed actors who resorted to politics as a plan B, he had to choose a costume for his role on the stage and his good buddy Hannity already has that ‘righteous indignation’ thing going. Probably had a childhood flashback of lifelong resentment at not being a tough guy and since he’s now in play pretend land he can finally achieve that dream, albeit illusion. So his role in the pundit league is to be the tough guy. The Bugsy Malone. The gangster with the suspenders, tommy gun, stove top hat and cigar shouting “Now listen see. This is how it’s gonna be see. Yeah see. Yeah see Yeah.”.

            So to show just how tough he is he spends every hour of his show setting up his callers like little golf balls all in an extremely long line just waiting for him to come to them and whack them as hard as he can. It goes something like this:

Mark Levin: Jarrett on line one, go!

Jarrett: Mark I have to disagree with you about Ron Paul’s position on foreign policy…

Mark Levin: That’s what’s wrong with you liberals! You disagree with me?! What makes you so special you bum? You don’t know the things I know! Get off the line you big dope!(you big dope? Really? I mean I know he’s pretending to be tough but you’d think he would realize that ‘you big dope’ isn’t really all that tough sounding to say yet still he uses it to sound tough)Betty on line four, go!

Betty: Mark I’m confused. You said you were a conservative and I was under the impression that conservatives wanted to conserve the principles and forms of government as established in the constitution but whenever you speak about gearing up for yet another endless war with the middle east I can hear you watering at the mou…

Mark Levin: What’s your bra size?

Betty: Excuse me?

Mark Levin: You heard me you little liberal floozy.

Betty: I’m a libertarian.

Mark Levin: No you’re not. You’re a lib. Wanna rub my bum.

Betty: Youre a pig.

Mark Levin: Get off my phone slut! You whining little liberal tramp. Bob, Nebraska, go!

Bob: Mark, what you said to that woman was ru…

Mark Levin: Get off my line sissy man! We must have the Paul bots calling in today. Cliff in Georgia, go!….

            You get the picture. It’s like it was written by the same guys who wrote the script to “Ducktales: The Movie”. He’s a cartoon character. Mark Levin’s “explosive” delivery of anger into the microphone is much like the puffing up of a fish. Mostly air. If there is anything I learned from my dad it’s this; a man that keeps running his mouth about what he’s going to do never does. This truth rings true for Mark Levin I think. He, as well as all other members of the pundit league, are quick to commit the lives of other people and other peoples children to wars which only churn on for the expansion of the military industrial complex, yet as stated earlier, never took up the task of digging a foxhole for good old Uncle Sam when the opportunity arose in their time.

            One of my favorite things Levin does is boldly announce people he’s “going after” on air. The people who have somehow crossed his views and dared to express a position he doesn’t cherish from his assigned script. When this happens expect several forty five minute diatribes on air filled with venomous increases in volume laced with idle threats which allude to physical intimidation towards those he calls “backbenchers”, or in other words, other script readers that haven’t been tapped to propagandize to quite the same size audience as Levin. I keep waiting for some sort of a cage match to be announced on pay per view between the ferangi and either Bill O’reilly or Rand Paul. Then reality sets back in and I realize that Mark Levin is just playing a character that once the microphone dries, is nonexistent. If his words ever did manage to evoke a physical conflict with another I have no doubt he would simply attempt to draft someone else to go and fight it for him though. Sadly though, there are many people who get caught up in the character and believe what he preaches which quite honestly reminds me of all those Star Wars fans that walk around in Jedi robes and when no one is watching actually try to use the force to move soda cans with sweat beaded brow.

To be continued…

D.L. Crumpton

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