Thursday, December 06, 2018
Anniversary
by his children.
Softball Tape still plays well: earnest
adults and adorable toddlers.
He’s additionally toasted on the rich
occasion by crooks worldwide.Labels: Big Business, Conservative, death, government, illegal, Law, rich
Monday, November 26, 2018
The Pair
Told my girlfriend I’d not say much.
Apparently, though, enough...she
reported it!
Being undercover also, would you
believe?
I was super-interrogated then.
By sadistic experts.
Grill-o-rama!
As was she. Her ”Good Deed”
could hardly go unpunished.
Both transferred to entirely new
departments.
Still a couple though!
Deceit’s a glue.
Labels: government, interrogation, role playing, secrecy, sex, Top Secret
Tuesday, May 08, 2018
Economic Determinism, USA
Your Fixer laughs not to worry,
since he has choreographed for
even more circuitous thieves.
You breathe deep the fullest draught
of all, the anti-bureaucratic one! Ah!
Nice daydream, but as Middle-Class
you can’t afford such services--unless
you join his internet pool.
And even then he must be running
a Special.
So. Patience. Rome wasn’t extorted
in a day!
Besides, vast vistas of graft open to
those not really wealthy.
The non-lazy, non-wetback, etc.
It’s a Democracy after all!
Labels: cynicism, fix, government, graft, immigration
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Continuity
The trouble of her difficulty is the men!
An even dozen.
Who often fight, after requisite bragging.
And, bloody, after.
She finally drags them before Head
and Council.
Each speaks of his frustration.
Listeners nod, and then whip them.
Ritual, though some lay on hard to
hear the yells.
Head pronounces "Tribe needs babies.
To be cute and loved by all, and then
grow up to help build the canoes.”
In chorus the council sings
"The Gods need canoes.
One to a family and
another to them!”
Head tells the young men.
“Loving is learned with time, just don't
hurry the moment for your own self.
This is not America!”
Unless a good report to the council in
a year's time, all the braves will be
forced to paddle West, never turning back.
The young woman smiles and laughs more,
and is pregnant! The other women smile and
laugh more also.
The tribe sings to each possible father, traveling
from hut to hut at twilight.
The gods are happy with the promise of new canoes.
Anyway, the babies will come in a flood now!
Midwives are training new midwives.
Head can’t stop drinking, and is replaced.
Not a disgrace, since he will soon visit each
and every baby, and be Uncle to all of them.
As the new Head has ordered.
Labels: government, tribal, tribal quarrels, tribal solidarity
Tuesday, March 01, 2016
Fixer
In Conversation and Fable
-You like to make phonecalls. Straighten the whole
world by wire or cell!
-My skill. And, modestly, Art.
-Don’t make that one, Picasso! Fair warning!
He did. Eventually going to the bureau where they
had attempted to remedy his plight...and engineered,
thereby, the greatest clusterfuck in the history of government.
Of Mankind? Top hundred.
He emerged. Walked past his car to the high road.
Cops picked up there, babbling.
After a month in Bide-a-Bit:
-I’m surprised you didn’t wave your dick too.
-I lack imagination.
Labels: breakdown, bureaucracy, cell, clusterfuck, fixer, government, phone, phone skills, Picasso
Monday, January 18, 2016
MYSTERY DEATH OF WHEELCHAIR
The Federal Government outsourced most of its
work to the Dresden-Solliday Corporation, but I
didn't see any change, at least in my unfolding
experience that day.
Runaround then, runaround now.
After the fifth office, a round man, silky gray,
coiffed, manicured, DS-USA badge containing
tiny depictions of American flags.
"Are you the person looking for Bellsome Narraway?"
Said I was.
“May I ask the nature of your inquiry?”
“Personal.”
“Well this is a Dresden-Solliday US Government
Installation. It is therefore a workplace. According
to USDS regulations...!”
I told him Mr Narraway was homeless. And I
had evidence that he lived and worked there.
“That's impossible! Oh I'm so horribly horribly busy!
But...I'm authorized to make an exception. Tomorrow.
You're to stay at DSUS Hilton tonight as our guest.
It's quite lovely.”
He evidently held memories of its restaurant meals.
No complaints. And the next mid morning a very
luxurious bus appeared. The driver was strapped in
with his wheelchair and was quite jolly.
Appearing. He never spoke.
Mozart's The Abduction From the Seraglio played,
with interweaving patriotic songs.
We spend an hour negotiating the potholes of a rusty
old refinery.
I’m the only passenger, though iPads fall down at
every seat.
Mine says. Welcome to the Dresden-Solliday USA
Corporation. Please help us evaluate our service.
Only one question: Driver was a) Unfailingly
Helpful...all the other responses are ghosted out,
so I naturally check a.
When I do, the iPads, including mine, suck back
into the ceiling.
And the bus stops, the driver rolling off, an immense
submarine sandwich in his lap.
At the parking lot, and my car.
So I leave.
Unfortunately, the driver, searching for a decent
spot to eat his monster sandwich, gets lost in the lot’s
furthest reaches.
Waylaid then by a quartet of starving juveniles, who
incorporate him in their play.
All the while inhaling the ripped-apart sandwich, they
knock over the wheelchair several times, stealing its battery.
Abandon him, and chair, pre-natal in a muddy area of soda
cans, some glinting from scrub bushes.
Couldn't possibly crawl out of such terrain.
A cell left to him, but they have taken its battery also.
I become the number one suspect in MYSTERY DEATH
OF WHEELCHAIR–-the news-sites omit the victim's name,
but no one had taken mine either. The Hilton registered
me as Teddy Roosevelt, their little joke.
Law Enforcement finds me anyway, and a bureaucratic
nightmare...does not begin.
They take my statement in my kitchen, and assure me
that’s the end of it.
Though one political party later wants me to testify
anonymously of the vicious incompetence of the other.
I refuse. Not partial to the newly-favored Bag On the
Head look. Even the Ralph Lauren’s.
Labels: bureaucracy, Capitalism, government, juvenile delinquent, outsourcing, Ralph Lauren, wheelchair
Monday, December 28, 2015
-Where’s the OUTRAGE?
-That poor old tired question again? Out of steam!
-The government employs whores?
-Well, not a bureau of them. Contractors.
-Which it sends...?
-Ace and Darly are the real poster kids!
-Foreign Intrigue sort of thing?
-Strictly Domestic. Ace to Evangelicals is one ticket.
-But he’s male!
-Prodigiously.
-It’s a sin!
-But they have a wonderful arrangement where
forgiveness is built in.
-That may be, but there’s horrible suffering
beforehand.
-The process seems to have been streamlined.
-And? Who? Darly you say.
-Spoken of in the same breath as Art! Where Ace is the Great Technician, Darly...
-I don’t wanna hear it!
-Men sigh in boardrooms years after.
-I don’t wish to be sarcastic, but we’re being “protected” by these two then?
-Not presently. On vacation.
-Together?
-That’s their custom.
-What do they DO?
-Nothing. Just chitter-chat and innocent whatever.
Both avid stamp collectors for one. In fact,
Darly got her start amid philandering philatelists.
-Had to work that in?
-Been carrying it around for some time!
-Well, all of this is NOT a joke!
-I don’t know. Before leaving this planet,
everybody has to find out how bizarre it really is.
-We’re speaking of The Nation!
-Very well then, before leaving...
Labels: Evangelicals, government, outrage, outrage industry, prostitution, stamp collecting
Thursday, November 05, 2015
Sailor
Ruppy “enjoyed” living in the Old Soldiers Home.
Food not bad, and he had his own little room.
Spent most of his time in there. Making coffee
or watching a ball game, or reading the magazines
he picked from the dumpster.
So? Who is left alone for long? The new President
sought to close such places and deposit the inhabitants
in more personal domiciles. “The Small-Family Initiative.”
Ruppy was interviewed by those who ran these
establishments. Gray, no-nonsense ladies primarily.
He gave his moderate demeanor an angry edge
for these, and was rejected.
There followed a great month when he was allowed
to stay in the empty institution as a sort of watchman.
Prepare his food in the cavernous kitchen, and roam
freely throughout the building. For his whole life
he had ”picked up a broom.” And therefore ran
the vacuum cleaners every few days.
He prayed silently for this life to go on.
But Mrs Benjamin came with her battered Cadillac,
and fetched him.
He became her boarder, but really lived the last
way he did in the institution. Preparing his own meals
and picking up a broom. The latter became more
urgent as Mrs Benjamin went on periodic booze tears.
Always a DT space in each in which she yelled out the windows
before she went ice-cold turkey. To passerby or postman:
“Please don’t hurt me!”
One day a voice came back. “Now I never have, have I?”
Sailor. “Who turns up not as a bad penny, but as a bright
new shiny one!” she eventually exulted.
Thus, the three of them. Another trudge for Ruppy was that lover-
boy Sailor had malarial bouts, where he got as confused as
Mrs Benjamin in her throes.
Fortunately, the spacing proved okay for Ruppy as he helped both.
Not usually overlapping. He primarily fetched prescriptions.
“I’m the freakin errand boy!” he complained. And he never softened
anything for Marcy Carker, who wrote of this “family” for
the Patriot-Messenger. She did soften things a bit however.
Thus Mrs Benjamin suffered from a “recurring mental problem.”
Sailor allowed to keep his bizarre incurable strain of Malaria.
And, as the program intended, they helped each other.
Re-enter the President, and Ruppy had to be limoed to Washington
to receive the Modern Family of the Month Award from his cool hands.
A red, white, blue, spearing abstract of a thing.
Timing off for the other two to attend, both just coming off the rare
shared bout.
Anyway, the three of them lived in relative amity after–-but not for long.Mrs B died, and Sailor soon after.
The newest president was on a RE-institutionalizing tear, and it looked like Ruppy could end up back in the old place.
It was now called The Armed Forces Home, with a new staff, and only had an opening for a navy person.
He used Sailor’s old IDs and his discharge--not the only person
there, or anywhere, to switch a bit.
Dr Cragnul persuaded him to display the Family trophy in the
case in the lobby, as if this site had been awarded. It revolved.
Labels: alcoholic, government, identity, navy, Old Soldiers Home, President, sailor
Thursday, July 30, 2015
The Fill-In
I breezed through the form, but what the hell!
You could put anything down!
Check Chinese and nobody cared.
Married, Single, Divorced? All three. In glee!
As always, a combination of chaos and
precision:
Since they proved crazily fussy about 14B. A large
blank you had to fill in border to border. With what?
God knows.
The question varied. Mine, this time: How far is up?
Not intended to necessarily elicit a scientific
answer, but tap your psyche in some way. I wrote
of a trip to the shore with my elderly parents.
Wrong! The woman waved her wand and it
blinked red. So...again.
No soap either with How many make anything else?
I detailing the articles in my right pocket.
The woman eventually gathered her personals
and closed up. I was still her charge, so she
led me to her crisp little apartment in the same
building.
Only a short passageway, but it took some time
because of a ranging limp that grazed both walls.
In that cozy domain, over Stouffer's Microwave Lasagne,
I first noted how terrifyinging ugly she was.
But before you say anything, I'd give King Kong a run
for his money.
She eventually produced pajamas that’d fit him!
I swam in them. And out.
England expects each man to do his duty!
I’m always okay with that. You pick the way
to show your patriotism. Still a free country.
Labels: bureaucracy, chaos and, fill in form, form, free country, government, modern society, patriotism, precision in government, sex
Monday, July 27, 2015
Filling In
Word circulated
to write in 14E with "14E"–and not a single letter from
the list of options representing concepts, choices...
or whatever.
At any rate, this worked for everyone until a person
was called in at random, and never returned to his family.
A lump sum was, and the family seemed satisfied.
But, thereafter, anyone who 14E'd originally
was marked Q in every paper or cyber file.
The Q's living on borrowed time went the rumor.
Pretty much all the Qs gathered in the Adirondancks
and armed themselves.
They decided to preemptively attack a motor vehicles
office on Staten Island.
Fourteen deaths resulted and the numerologists went bananas.
The government called for meetings.
Never held, so everything forgotten.
“We lurch from vague crisis to vague crisis,” concluded
Senator Oliver, aka Senator Expense Account.
Labels: bureaucracy, Expense Account, form, forms, government, numerology, revolution, senate
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Buzz During Fright
The Brilliant Associate
-I just know they're culling the quiet ones. They read out an
order and then shoot you. And not necessarily in that order!
-I'm saying nothing because I don't understand a thing anyone says.
I recognize that it's English, though.
-That's a start. Look! Learn the buzz words. When anyone looks to
you to say anything, spout!
-Such as?
-Well, prioritize always stays hot.
-As in Prioritize the remaining aggregate?
-That's inspired!
-Just...came to me.
-Then, follow it up with something sorta rhymey.
-Don't...buy the insaning domain!
-Better yet! You've been a slumbering genius.
Now, add something literary.
-For there are more things in heaven and earth
than are dreamt of in your philosophy!
-Too literary. They'll say you're condescending them. Shoot you
for that too! Notch it down from Shakespeare.
-Okay, okay. Because it's the best of times and the worst of
times, you...
-Go on!...must prioritize the remaining aggregate...
-...thus avoiding the insaning domain!
-Finishing touch of vulgar or folky? Continue!
-Since that's all she wrote...
-Bingo!
-...before she bought the farm!
-You’re God-like! Recap the whole business!
-Nah! I'll puke! But I can vary things, right? Juggle ‘em around,
and with different intros? Bit of a joke here and there?
-That's where the Art comes in. Man! Instead of dead, you'll be
a Section Leader!
Down by a couple of rungs. Retired as Chief of Thirty Sections!
Honored personally by the Presiding Chief! as “The Associate
who always found the right, brilliant, words.”
Labels: business, buzz, buzz words, government, jargon, totalitarian
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Science and the Right
-I think it’s called Animated Venn Diagram or
something. I’m just playing with it to see if it shows...
-Okay, one big balloon, Racists. I get that.
Another, Republicans. And...the two getting
together...whoa! Like, wait a minute! It shows
all Republicans Racists. That ain’t Science!
-It’ll take some tinkering.
-You need new data!
-I was expecting three-quarters.
-That’s realistic. I know that I’m a Republican and a Racist,
but not THEREFORE a Racist! Let’s, like, get real!
-Constant experiment! It’s the Science Life.
-They pay you for this?
-Your government does.
-Well, now with our new Righty bunch, you’re out
on your ass!
-Not necessarily. Why, look! The diagram changing
before our very eyes.
-Looks to be-eeeee about seven Republican Racists.
-They’ll be deified.
Labels: experiment, government, racist, Republican, Republican Racist, science, Venn
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Question Mid Clatter
-What is it with these fractious fuckin Republicans?
-They don’t believe in government, so when they get
in they do nothing. But they know that looks bad, thus
investigate everybody and his brother.
-MY brother, they got a case. But...just making noise?
-Loud and slapdash clowns! They severely lack an
Emmett Kelly, the SILENT one. And that’s just the
start! Why...!
-Do go on. NOT! Too vomit-inducing.
-What’s that Chinese curse? May you live in interesting
times.
-But we don’t. BORRRRRR-ing!
Labels: anarchy, boring, Emmett Kelly, government, Republican Clowns
Monday, June 16, 2014
Bold Face
PIN A STINKWEED ON RIGHTIES
KEENING
WHEN GOVERNMENT PAYS
THE PRICE SHOOTS UP. THEIR
GOUGING
CONTRIBUTORS LEARNED IT
WITH MOTHERS' MILK.
THE REST COMPRISED OF
DIVING.
Labels: bribery, diving, diving in certain sports, gouging, government, government contracting, money in politics, politics
Wednesday, April 09, 2014
Dreaming the Future
Councils
He dreams continuously of screwing small brass parts together,
and awakes exhausted, with stiff and throbbing fingers.
Night after night. Finally, gets permission to present his
case to the Dream Council.
All listen thoughtfully except a quite fat woman. "Now you
know what it feels like to actually WORK!"
He assures her that his meet-greet job involving immigrants
can be tiring: keeping up the smile and patter etc.
“I don't understand all these song-and-dance positions. And why
do we even need an Immigrant Council? They get everything
they want already. At the expense of true Americans!”
She later insists her remarks be stricken from the record.
Meets him later at the compulsory coffee. "I'm sorry to undermine
your real work, but getting tired of all the whining, especially
from Spick-e-os, and the Black and Yellow Perils." She chomps
a danish menacingly.
He puts the small black square from the council under his pillow that night and sleeps well, but wakes thinking of the virulent fat woman.
He would have reported her to The Surveillance Council, but anyone who did was, in turn, intensely shadowed in minute by minute life and online.
It had been six years with one couple he knew, and they even
invited one of their trailers to their Wedding Anniversary party.
Originally, they had made the mistake of complaining about a neighbor's uproarious Nazi Sing-Alongs.
Surveillance Council, in sum, ended up with virtually no work and
thus became a natural berth for politician's sons and daughters,
their parties legendary.
Labels: council, future, government, immigration, Nepotism, surveillance
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Hard, Right
In Line at My Precinct
“Yeah, like we’d vote for Obama!”
From a seething, sarcastic confidence weaned by Rush
and the other propagandists.
So so sure they’d win as their polls anointed.
Then the crash. The betrayal! With Righty
TV and Radio ratings in the toilet in retribution.
“Heartbreak Hotel!”
“They’re continuously checking out and into
Sheer Revenge Hotel.”
“Uh huh? And how does the country get governed?
Their share?”
“Objection! Irrelevant!”
Labels: government, Obama, polls, Republican "Polls", Right, Right Propagandists, Right Radio TV, Rush
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The “Resignation”
He threatened to resign. Repeatedly. And always for
a principle. Which changed.
During one cruelly dull session, the Chair accepted.
In error, of course.
He protested, but the parliamentarian declared him
out of order.
Efforts to rescind the resignation led him to a fellow
attorney, who explained that this sort of double-dry
case necessitated the best champagne. Thus, 300,000
just to begin. Mega more to follow, naturally, the advocate
later exclaiming "We know you can screw John Q,
but give me a lawyer anytime!"
The case ultimately, and woolily, spun its way through various
courts all the way to the Supreme.
The plaintiff, now much grayer, IN-ching up the steps of that august edifice...only to be struck by a poisoned frisbee tossed by a rogue Department of Defense robot.
The department settled handsomely with the estate, admitting no guilt, though the robot was tried by the singer Hurcher Headley, playing a judge on Justice Now! The sentence was dismantling on How It Works.
The High Court went on with the case, declaring that a resignation threatened nine or more times can be treated as binding under the Commerce and Elastic Clauses.
Later christened by McClatchy’s legal reporter as “Nine strikes you’re out!”
The minority declared that Free Speech embraced threats and pseudo threats in any number.
The Wall Street Journal concluded The Court Produces Its Usual Unpalatable Pudding.
He threatened to resign. Repeatedly. And always for
a principle. Which changed.
During one cruelly dull session, the Chair accepted.
In error, of course.
He protested, but the parliamentarian declared him
out of order.
Efforts to rescind the resignation led him to a fellow
attorney, who explained that this sort of double-dry
case necessitated the best champagne. Thus, 300,000
just to begin. Mega more to follow, naturally, the advocate
later exclaiming "We know you can screw John Q,
but give me a lawyer anytime!"
The case ultimately, and woolily, spun its way through various
courts all the way to the Supreme.
The plaintiff, now much grayer, IN-ching up the steps of that august edifice...only to be struck by a poisoned frisbee tossed by a rogue Department of Defense robot.
The department settled handsomely with the estate, admitting no guilt, though the robot was tried by the singer Hurcher Headley, playing a judge on Justice Now! The sentence was dismantling on How It Works.
The High Court went on with the case, declaring that a resignation threatened nine or more times can be treated as binding under the Commerce and Elastic Clauses.
Later christened by McClatchy’s legal reporter as “Nine strikes you’re out!”
The minority declared that Free Speech embraced threats and pseudo threats in any number.
The Wall Street Journal concluded The Court Produces Its Usual Unpalatable Pudding.
Labels: government, Supreme Court
Friday, September 10, 2010
The Way of All Fish
Government Gouge!
roar the self-minted
guardians of us all,
but they're as pur-
ring kittens while
Capitalist Rottweilers
devour us hourly.
Government Gouge!
roar the self-minted
guardians of us all,
but they're as pur-
ring kittens while
Capitalist Rottweilers
devour us hourly.
Labels: Capitalism, government
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Faith Brings Kickbacks
Approval Ratings? Ab-
ject depths! but since
the job of Executive,
Legislative & Judicial
is to step up
the comfort & wealth
of the Obscene Rich, then
they've been competent
beyond measure.
Approval Ratings? Ab-
ject depths! but since
the job of Executive,
Legislative & Judicial
is to step up
the comfort & wealth
of the Obscene Rich, then
they've been competent
beyond measure.
Labels: government, rich
