Sunday, December 04, 2016
Angels
Linc Hess
never took "City of Angels"
seriously. Until he saw some.
Oh not the whimsical creatures
hauling wings around, but actual
beings.
On van Nuys, a guy handing out
playground equipment to hiving
kids.
Began glowing!
Now Gretch and he were no angels!
No way!
But some little something about
them was.
If...they could talk again, maybe
THAT could come out, and not all
the neurotic shit: gnashing!
But her latest was a wildcatter,
and they were going somewhere in
the world unknown to search for oil.
Wildcatters at their age! All boom-bust
should be unknown after forty!
Linc did text her that he had been
wrong so many times.
She answered. “Wrong right so WHAT
now? As always, I'm moving on.”
Nothing angelic there.
Labels: angel, boom-bust, City of Angels, Los Angeles, oil, oil exploration, relationship, wildcatting
Friday, February 20, 2015
Global Capitalism, European Version,
Greek Style
...they're being told that their way out of crisis
is to drill for oil and gas in their beautiful seas,
in the Mediterranean and the Ionian. -Naomi Klein
Hey! So it’s a fuckin tradeoff:
Beauty for Filth! And what’s so
fuckin wrong about that, Mr Plato?
Like, grow up and smell the ouzo!
Hey, it’s really only a problem
when it’s YOUR grandmother
in the wheelbarrow.
But that’s Middle Eastern,
or African hellholes.
Not Omonoia Square!
Labels: Compound Interest, Debt, European Market, Greek, Greek Financial Crisis, oil, tourism
Monday, December 16, 2013
Generations in Dark Continents
Momba
When the last child left for college, Miriam hastened
to divorce. He went back to Africa, and the new oil
boomlet.
Mr Carruthers, grayer, still fetched you a boy. Indeed,
the memory of Momba bringing his afternoon gin
and tonic sustained him even before the new adventure.
"Momba is a foreman on an oil rig now, but I can get you
a divinity student part-time. Everybody else is into
the oil."
It would be the middle of next week, but Carruthers could
find a cleaning girl sooner.
He went into the new Starbucks and ordered an ice coffee.
There two girls had trouble with the machine, and promised
to bring it to him.
He must tell them to ratchet down the air conditioning!
Shivering! He opened his laptop with difficulty, wondering if
they had wifi.
When one girl finally got the ice coffee there, he had
turned blue.
The girls called an ambulance, and persuaded a regular,
a retired British doctor, to look at him.
"You can get into a great deal of trouble declaring anyone
dead in another chap's country, but though the tech boys
can certainly try, odds are he's gone."
Momba heard the news with mixed feelings. Miriam, the same,
having just married a much younger man, a more scholarly one.
His dissertation: The Economics of Economics.
Labels: Africa, Colonial, divorce, oil, scholarship, Starbucks
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Chavez Gave Oil to Poor Bostonians
If we won't take care
of our own,
might as well have
Venezuelans do it. Right,
though, continues to desire
frozen corpses as examples in
wretched personal direction.
Labels: Boston, Chavez, Citgo, oil, poverty, Venezuela
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Energy Executives
-Image kills.
-Oil ever-spreading.
-And now the fishermen bleat at meetings.
-Norman Rockwell with a Cajun accent.
-Soon the piles of dead fishies and birdie-wirdies. Oh my!
-Hey! Fish, birds, miners. Costs of doing business.
-Spoken like a greedy Capitalist pig!
-Too much talk of systems. We could be Communists
working our magic for The State, principle still holds:
John Q is to be fucked up the shit chute for his own good.
-And deep down in his shallow soul he knows it!
-That’s the beauty part.
-And there’s beauty in everything.
-Ah the aesthetic of oil!
-Do I glimpse a manly tear, Lochinvar?
-Image kills.
-Oil ever-spreading.
-And now the fishermen bleat at meetings.
-Norman Rockwell with a Cajun accent.
-Soon the piles of dead fishies and birdie-wirdies. Oh my!
-Hey! Fish, birds, miners. Costs of doing business.
-Spoken like a greedy Capitalist pig!
-Too much talk of systems. We could be Communists
working our magic for The State, principle still holds:
John Q is to be fucked up the shit chute for his own good.
-And deep down in his shallow soul he knows it!
-That’s the beauty part.
-And there’s beauty in everything.
-Ah the aesthetic of oil!
-Do I glimpse a manly tear, Lochinvar?
Monday, November 02, 2009
Why Are We in Afghanistan?
Fight terrorism?
The other guys
put us there & we
can’t turn & fly &
save face too? For
petroleum, for...? Oh
a dozen other reasons
according to degree
held & purchasers. Burned
through billions All Right, so
what’s it all worth?
A bag of shit.
Labels: Afghanistan, oil, terrorism
Monday, September 08, 2008
At the Oil Museum
-What’s that? Marble cube, gold door. Looks like where priest keeps Host.
GUIDE
It contains the first gouging lie told by an oil executive.
-Good! If the children aren’t reminded of history, they’ll forget it.
GUIDE
We’ll let them have it all right!
-What’s that? Marble cube, gold door. Looks like where priest keeps Host.
GUIDE
It contains the first gouging lie told by an oil executive.
-Good! If the children aren’t reminded of history, they’ll forget it.
GUIDE
We’ll let them have it all right!
Labels: gouging, oil, supply-demand fiction
Friday, August 01, 2008
Iraq Shares Windfall in Zooming Oil Profits
“Great day, really, when
the Americans came in
and killed half million of us,
give or take.”
Labels: Iraq, oil, war deaths
