All Over the Place

Executive Office Conference


POLITICAL OPERATOR
Senator Fem has been yap-yapping.

-What about? Oh never mind. I don’t wanna know. Just marginalize him.

POLITICAL OPERATOR
Can’t quite. Five guys in his state practically support the national party. He’s their boy.

-That’s okay. As long as he’s theirs exclusively. No more branching out into what he fancies ideas.

POLITICAL OPERATOR
Call him in?

-No, call in young Jenkins.
...

-Jenkins!

JENKINS
Sir!

-You’re to take Senator Fem to lunch. It’ll be explained to you what to tell him. And watch your expense account.
If it’s free he’ll eat like a pig!”

POLITICAL OPERATOR
And don’t dance with him.

-And I thought all the lightfoots did their thing around the other gang!

POLITICAL OPERATOR
Just ninety-nine percent. Next, problems with judges, ones we appointed.

-I’m not even listening! Independent judiciary is a bulwark of freedom. Totally necessary!
Just ask them to be mindful of their constitutional duty. Now translate for Jenkins.

POLITICAL OPERATOR
The President is a militant upholder of the separation of powers among the branches of government.
And is acutely...etc etc. Certainly, conflicts can arise, and they must be intelligently discussed.

-Do you agree, Jenkins?

JENKINS
Of course, Sir.

-What a surprise! Let’s pretend that Brooks Brothers suit is a robe and you become the judge now, Jenkins, so that you can be addressed directly.

POLITICAL OPERATOR
Greetings from the President, Your Honor! NOW DO WHAT THE FUCK YOU’VE BEEN TOLD!

The Courthouse

Off’d the wife
but state’s evidence
weak weak weak! Expect-

ing to walk away,
had his cousin
park the Camaro in

the courthouse garage
before work,

leaving the key with
Buzz, a guard. Dumb-

est possible jury knew
he did it and to hell

with all the language crap!
Recommended Life to judge.

So, he’s taken, first,
to be dumped into an
orange jump suit.

Buzz drives the car away,
later chats with the Sheriff,
his uncle. “Nice car, but like
to make it faster.”

“Can’t advise you to do anything
with appropriated property, but
like a ride when it’s fixed up hot!”

Another guard, Drewsy Tuckles, wears the sports
jacket and slacks and Pierre Cardin tie to
church. “Little uneasy, but what the...uh...

well, before he sees the light of a free day,
be way outa style!” he confides to Reverend Kell.

“Perhaps a social balance then?”–Reverend.
Drewsy eventually gets the point, contributes
to the church’s boy scout troupe.

    The 6-toed cat pondering
 
 the dilemma:   Form restricted
   the master;     form became his
   highest art.     Such cats know
        but can't      reveal.
                     Or      won’t.

           “Is it Granada

      I see or only Asbury Park?”
        “I saw a man he danced 
        with his wife.” Camp-
 
      sophistication fancies,as
           shaky Americans, 
           urinous Europe. 

                     Political Morph

Hey! Uncle Sam wearing Birkenstocks,*
& once-gritty demonstrations gain cachet.

*photo in Philly Inquirer

Not much of a believer

but my Guardian Angel is. I’m
guarding nothing at icy 0 in my
new company in Korea and

nip into a supply tent,
fire up a stove.

After a bit it grows hot
and the red splotch
by the pipe starts

migrating in my drowsiness.
An outside hustle snaps me to,

and I speed through protocol:
Halt Who goes there?

Proves to be my Captain,
and this our first meeting.

He’s a tub but has seen
John Wayne films, twin

45s flank mobile hips. Demands
to know what I’m doing!

Heard a noise and de-
cided to investigate! Repeats

my words with theatrical contempt,
another hilarious routine
to his entourage. That’s

when my GA shoves over a pile of
crap, and Cap and Crew nearly shit.

Drawing their weapons and
bumping, 3 Stooges Style,

but GA vamooses before they can
effectively make feathers fly.

Email To The Revolution

The defamatory-inflammatory
is like to be OBSCENE. So

we’ll flay your red ass
on that last

to preserve the Constitution
UNDER GOD.

The Botanist’s Life

1) exploring leaf
like a hand, skin

& under-
layer & un-
der that.

2) In pursuit of?
See 1.

3) God? Span
too narrow
and too deep.

Yet another thing you wouldn't think so, but

biggest suckers at
the most egregious baits
are salesmen. They

dance,ravished
by familiar music,in
another thief's embrace.

Ah the Strangely Scitzy-Witzy Wall Street Journal!

Reporters dig sans fear, and write
astringent prose, no matter which fat,

plutocratic ass gets burnt, or megalo-
maniac president or ninny congress, whilst

Editorial Page misses the truth
of older, golder times with up-
pity workers whipped routinely.

The Fraternity of Torture

It was after G got tyro A to confess his girlfriend thought his pecker small. G led a cheer. “Tiny Pee Pee! Tiny Pee Pee!”

Then, “Let’s all pull it to make it longer!” They did and A shrieked.

“More ritual than pain,” counseled Overmaster.

“You got it backwards, Prick.”

“That’s enough,” Torture Master whispered, but G gave it one more brutal yank, and then turned his attention to the buttocks of shrieking A.

"Not red enough yet!" He had brought a whip, though all instruments must come from Torture Master's locker--as G was reminded by him.

G spit “You're so full of shit! When I was Torture Master--”

“But you're not.” Overmaster intervened. “You had to be removed and not reinstated here until you blubbered your way back in, literally crawling on your belly. And the national chapter paid plenty to that judge and wife whose kid you shoved that poker up his–”

“No shove! No shove! A few burns around the hairy entrance. The back porch hah hah! Anyways, just needed whatchacallit, that Zinc and Oxide stuff. Anyways, they were ghinnies. Don't have our names.”

A couldn't stop retching now, and “Shut the fuck up!” G screamed, glad to change the subject. “You won't be a member anyway. Scholarship boy from busdriver's spawn or something. It's is all so fuckin PC-disgusting! Pretending he can ever equal us with our families.
Pigs in the administration of this university to let these little creeps in!”

Overmaster pronounced the maximum fine of a thousand dollars on G for indicating how he’d vote on
the candidate.

“I spend that on a night of skanky whores. Here! I even got the cash!”

Someone helped A back to his room as Torture Master put the implements back in prescribed order into the
Sacred Locker. This took a half hour since each required a rhyme to go with its insertion.

Overmaster met an ashen member in front of the student bookstore. "G! He was coming over here to get a book even though the course is about over. And he just...shook and shook and fell, like, straight down in a heap. He's dead! He's fuckin dead! Ambulance just left. I just can’t get over it!”

“Stupided to death.” I've seen it once before. “Yeah, he definitely stupided to death."

“Can that be?”

“Oh it be. You won't see it in statistics, but happens everywhere. Many go on from this institution and it happens later in life. Often after political careers. Some great captains of finance, too, dumb as doorknobs.”

“It's a horrible death!”

“Oh I don't know. Inevitable, apt, appropriate. How could that be all wrong?”

“Hey! Better watch yourself! God himself--!"

“has a deck-full of jokers. Forget it.”

“God! Smell lingers, doesn’t it? Rotten eggs and body odor.”

“Stupidity has varied stinks. But this is state
of the art.”

The Beauty of So Many Professing Christians

in political office &
military is evident

in our gold standard
of torture.

Golden RULE, though, can-
not apply, lest we desire

object’s reciprocity
in kind & hypocrisy. For

not devoutly to be wished
is martyrdom
with all the parties vile.

When all this scum
is done,
God bless us everyone.

Vocation

Desired a job where-
in I could slide from
heavy lifting, spending

time required to work,
if at all, on meanest
trivialities. Oh, and I

wanted to help friends
steal, have them, grate-
ful, kick some back. While

waving flags, and short-
sheeting Jesus. And you.

Wasn't easy to do, but I
became a US Senator.

And you, and yours,
a US Sucker.

Report: Apes shown to be able to plan ahead*

Report: Apes' News Service (ANS)

Humans use tools with increasing sophistication.
Often to blow up their fellows.

Humans employ increasingly intricate concepts.
Frequently perverted by leaders and religious persons.

*Yahoo News

Random Fate In Time of Terror

-Eees there Mohammed Teh-feek Mohammed?

-No. I’m sorry. Wrong number.
...

Hi. Special Agents Murthah and Tresslor. May we come in?

Turdblossom

-Despicable.

-How so?

-Turdblossom plants the shit he grows from.

-Wins elections.

-Verb is steals.

-That right? Well that is despicable! Like your letting us paint your guy as a pussy.

-I'm sorry. Shouldn't have said despicable. Meant Republican. Every one of you! On the hook for conduct of pigs.

-Too much morality around here! Off to Starbucks. Can I bring you back a hemlock?

Fun @ NSA

-Man, is this guy's some fuck-talker! The really dumb girls like the paisans. Hairy Ape Syndrome.

-Who's the broad?

-Breathy. Sexy. You recognize her!

-Shit yes! Now I do! Wow! My favorite actress! I'll take my turn when Super-Ghinny signs off. Who can’t talk at least some dirty shit?

-It's...shame we can't listen. Just a database collection thing as you know.

-Wouldn't dare without a court order. As we both understand.

-Why, we’re understanding now! Such a thing could be abused. And if something does...fall your way, you end it quickly.

-Jesus Christ! And I thought she was whorey onscreen!
Did you hear what she just said?

-No, and neither did you.

-Goddamn law prevents us from doing our job!

Homage to George Peppard, At Breakfast...

You managed to look human
in a tightass Ike year.
(though he smiled benignly

enough). And in those pinched-in
suits only skinny guys could wear.
Brylcreme--a little dab did you.

Making you look more, or less,
sappy? The endless fashion debate.

And a writer! Pecking at a portable.
Can't say you brought integrity there.
But you can't shine shit.

What a time! I heard some
strangled themselves
for their sins.

Only the dead
were perfect then.

Love’s Sweet Moments

remain wonderful,
but nuclear waste
sustains. Deserv-

ing higher,severe-
ly metrical odes
for that reason.

And fuller hearts,
if rigid. True cons-

ervative views
being loaded right.

Would you like mustard on that baloney?

My phonecalls & emails swirl
down into some government
black hole, where their
comparision with others
in a matrix of total
bullshit will guard us
all. Corporate Networks
frame it: Are you willing
to give up privacy for security?
Is that takeout? Or will you eat,
& puke, here?

Choices


CARDINAL
This game show is called SO YOU WANT TO BE A BISHOP?

PRIEST
With all due respect, Your Eminence, the scotch is getting watery. Additionally, I feel that my bishop misunderstood...

CARDINAL
Your poor will wait. As if they have a choice.

PRIEST
You have choices. And you make them for The Church.

CARDINAL
Thank you for pointing that out, but not really. We have investments.

PRIEST
If the face of Church and that of Wealth remains indistinguishable, then...

CARDINAL
Thank you for coming in, and I’ll personally thank the Bishop for sending you. But...the Bishop Game is not for you–as we both realize. And though you may become a saint far down the road, my vineyard differs. I pray for yours bearing abundant fruit, and God bless you, Father!

The Bottom Line

ASSISTANT
People think it's filthy today.

GOP OPERATOR
Natures of beasts. But not the bad old days by any measure. Beanbag today, really.

ASSISTANT
People don't see the professionalism. Attorneys, accountants, and good, sharp, solid managers.

GOP OPERATOR
Well-run campaigns, I'll give you that. Governance though, to be frank, turns out grossly incompetent. Hacks are brutal!

ASSISTANT
Dem’ll kill us next time on that.

GOP OPERATOR
Oh I don't know. As in Vegas, you just have to control the counting room.

Girls!


-That raunchy place?

-Yeah, they want you to bring your wife. New policy.

-No chance!

-Think she might turn queer?

-That the danger?

-Hey! Women like to see some nice tits and ass too.

-Life getting too complicated for me! My grandmother cooked and knitted.

-But thought.

Oval Office, 20xx

CORPORATES
We've decided on war.

PRESIDENT
Then it's up to me. Congress will bug out as usual.

CORPORATES
You can say that it's up to you.

PRESIDENT
Fiction, huh? I'm to do what I'm told?

CORPORATES
Bingo!

PRESIDENT
There's a small matter of money. We'll have to do it on plastic, with the Chinese buying the debt. Dangerous.

CORPORATES
Not at all. China is a corporate branch.
Thus we're paying ourselves, well not the country,
the corporations.

PRESIDENT
You're raping the nation and you want me to go down
in history as The Great Enabler!

CORPORATES
Savior! We'll write the history and that's what we'll say. Deniers ending up face down in various
bodies of water.

PRESIDENT
A bitter day when you talked me into this office.

CORPORATES
Freedom exists in not having choices. Your pen?

Medical and Political Account, Middle Tiyunkunum Island


The Canoe People Elders had to have their war. And since Ohgo the storyteller had died, the exact grievance against The Burning Patch People was unknown.

Finally decided was that an ongoing insult could be endured no longer: Their young men jumped from bushes near paths separating the areas and exposed themselves.

But they had always done that, always running away as Canoe girls taunted in song.

Baby toad penis,
no wonder you run.
Send a man next time.

Maybe you can find one
your volcano has made hot!

Only hot men will do
for Canoe Women!

In their own meeting, The Burning Patch people voted to wage battle on the basis of that insulting song. Even though they laughingly sang it in their own village. Sometimes giving Canoe men the baby toad penis, and sometimes not bothering.

The war was held and young men waded into each other with ferocity. And two minute later, mutually withdrew.

Each said the other retreated out of cowardice, and claimed victory with honor.

Triumphant, drunken orgies were performed to celebrate complete avenging.

Since most priests had expired, both tribes shared a healer. He applied a hemorrhoid cream to the Burning Patch commander who suffered a painful flare-up from the tension, the same to a Canoe brave's poked eye.

The following month a Burning Patcher exposed himself in the same old way, but was tackled by an Amazonian Canoe girl and held captive by her.

They soon announce plans to marry and both assemblies vote for war again.

The priest intervenes, inviting everyone to a party in neutral territory.

At the staggering height of chaos, he marries the couple and both sides sing out the penis song at full throat.

Despite terrific hangovers the following day, both sides affirm that a state of war still exists.

But the newly-married couple call a meeting of young people in the neutral area. They combine to overthrow both assemblies, sending the elders shrieking into the bush.

The new Canoe-Burning Patch Nation is led by The Amazon, who states "Love is the end of nonsense."

Husband proposes amnesty for elders, but she spits, "Let them wander like that Moses the missionaries blabbed on about!"

"Well...I rule in the hut," he tells the other players at the hybrid cricket-baseball game the islanders had fashioned from British and American occupations.

"That's always an illusion," Priest-Umpire declares. "Now batter up to the wicket! Three strikes you’re out! Three outs we have beer!”

Pointed exchange

-(reading) Little girls see Virgin at Lourdes...Channel Six.

-So little time, so much pathetic shit.

Our Tailor

PACKY/ It's Sal the Ghinny!

MICKEY-O/ That's his cover in South Philadelphia, only place it fools nobody. So, Sal, you make-a suit for bigga shot?

SAL/ Several. But I have to get back to my mother. Celebre's Egg and Pepper Sandwich...hundred other places but this the only one
for Mama! So fight the ballpark traffic like a good boy.

MICKEY-O/ How much you make off that African dude? Was in Newsweek.

SAL/ He's a nice-a fella.

MICKEY-O/ Don't revert, Fraud! Not the way you talked getting that political science degree at Penn.

PACKY/ What's a tailor need...?

SAL/ My Dark Continent accounts. You don't want to bring up strangled predecessors to the strangler. Decorum.

MICKEY-O/ I’ll tell you one thing, Salvatore, Packy’s sitting on you unless you answer the number one-a question!

SAL/ And what, pray tell, would that be?

MICKEY-O/ My father saw you on CNN coming out of the White House, tape measure trailing off your bony ass!

SAL/ I'm not at liberty to say anything.

MICKEY-O/ You won't get at liberty unless you do!

PACKY/ I WILL sit on you, greaseball faker! Dino Martini wannabe!

MICKEY-O/ Don’t worry. His weight varies. Little below, little above. Four hundred. At three he was Mario Lanza wannabe!

SAL/ I truly understand. Everything you gentlemen so work to impart.

MICKEY-O/ Okay, then let’s have it. Truth for once, International Needle-and-Con Man!

SAL/ Well...you know, prison clothing so dowdy. So I worked up designs. One’s drawstring pants with nice shirt-jacket.
Breast pocket embroidery coming in from Indonesia. Anyway, soft fabrics with random silk threads and world-class tailoring.
What's not to like?

PACKY/ I'd give 'em nothing. Evil bastards!

MICKEY-O/ Now that's the other side, Pack! The terrorists...no style sense whatsoever there.

SAL/ Hey! Listen for once! They're nice guys at White House. Not stereotypes. And full of fun! Even you two
Neanderthals’d be surprised.

MICKEY-O/ Leavenworth'll be a barrel of laughs.

PACKY/ Evil bast...!

MICKEY-O/ That's enough, Packy. We got the point. Your father carried walking-around money for the Democrats until he collapsed
under the weight.

SAL/ Well, as politically educational as all this has been, Mama awaits. And she's the famous Mouth of Ritner Street,
so give me a break!

PACKY/ That’s during the week. Italian Market on weekends and you can’t hear down there!

MICKEY-O/ Doesn't it bother you, Sal, that most of the Executive Department of this country is probably going to prison?

SAL/ Not if they're wearing my clothes.

"Bush Jokes"

gets 16mil Google hits.

Such a skewering, multitudinous!

GOP worried?

In tiniest measure.

Their machine runs elections.

Under snake's belly their high ground.

Profound Dialog on Governance

I say throw out the president and congress and let Halliburton
run the show.

But they're corrupt!

Yeah?

All Over the Place






3,Japan

Rain swings
dark bridge
to man and woman, slashes

birches, their raw
whites like over-
lapping memories dashed

black, strikes rushing,
glistening mass:
straw cape moments back.

Shoes For the Twins

Little Boy and Big Boy were their nicknames, but only Jinky and Belle could tell them apart.

Jinky was laid off again and Belle started cleaning offices, wouldn’t see any money for two weeks.

The twins needed new shoes for kindergarten.

“We’re down to about nothing, and spigot’s off at my parents’,” Belle shrugged.

“Maybe was a mistake to let that counselor dude cut up the Master Card?”

“He was right,” mused Belle. “All the smart people are right.”

“Well, let’s be smart ourselves! We have the money for one pair, right?”

“Two things. One, I’m going to the school and beg them to move Big Boy to the afternoon session. Then they can switch
the shoes.”

“I know number two involves me,” winced Jinky.

“Well, I might flunk. You go to the store in town, not the shopping center. The little guys’ll still give penny-ante credit.”

“No way!”–from Perry Saul of Boulevard Fashion Shoes. “I’ve been burned for the last time!” Jinky thanked him, but Saul blocked his exit. “Look! There’s a rich guy. Christian. He might buy you the other pair. Here’s his card.”

The Good News, Belle finally persuaded the nasty faggot of a vice principal (as he even called himself) that the twins would better prosper at separate kindergarten times.

Philanthropist asked Jinky, “Are you familiar with the expression, blow-job?”

“I didn’t pop him,” explained Jinky over a generic beer split with Belle, “cuz he was so fuckin old.”

In Palm Beach

past the mansions facing God's
smashing blue ocean, a coy Angel
darts in front of my rental car,

lights a cigarette in a blind-
ing gazebo. Fleeing, no doubt,

some rich tableau. Despite the risk
of Cancer, we should all join her.