Saturday, August 18, 2018
Equal and Separate
Don't take black or disabled hostages,
goes the AQ Guide.
For nobody ever wants them back!
Rest of tome could be said to be a perverse
Hymn to Fat Whites.
Hymn to Fat Whites.
For what would revolutions do without them?
Beautiful Tools so thoroughly ugly!
One must learn a perverse aesthetic to
change anything.
Absurdity forever presenting itself!
If one day you sweat enough to become
a Fat White…?
Full Circle.
Norm.
Death.
Labels: black, class, Disabled, hostage, hostage-taking, revolution, White
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Inventing History
The Soft Coup
What else is new?
When the women took over
the Government, we awaited
jarring change.
Bizarre by pretending otherwise
All ran the same. Pretty much
the hoggish way the men did.
Uneasy! Where’s the buzzsaw?
President Monica Sawyel counseled
patience. Her next term would embody
the bulk of the changes.
What about now? The dirty cards in
today’s deck?
First concentration in Arts!
So many floating loafers already.
A five play cycle featuring superlative
warrior, Meldornia!
Slight problem in that she never existed?
The young women must be saved
by having something to believe in!
Yeah, a lie!
We never had one based on lies?
Not entirely.
Oh?
Labels: coup, feminism, history, importance of myth, myth, revolution, rule by women, war
Friday, August 04, 2017
All Revolutionaries Impatient
And how
to smash up
the previous order?
Men, women, children,
dogs, cats, machines.
Creative Destruction. Let
cowards hold garden parties!
Some in totally ruined cities
to begin the old hypocrisy
yet again.
Labels: “Creative Destruction”, coward, Creative Deconstruction, garden parties, hypocrisy, revolution, revolutionary
Monday, June 19, 2017
The Modern American Revolution:
Left Talking
-El Comrado-Presidente
goes to Miami.
-When things turn shit, seek
reactionaries to love and be
loved.
-Cubans and the Grand--and
Very Old--Party!
-If only they could dig up Fidel
and hang him!
-Make things great again?
-Like Prostitution! Really took a hit
way way back!
-What did the Revolution have
against girls?
-Anyway, our Christian Right could
help shepherd a Restoration!
-Viva Sluts!
Labels: Castro, Christian Right, Cuba, Cuban Revolution, Fidel, prostitution, restoration, revolution, Trump, Trump and Russia
Monday, September 26, 2016
Hillbilly Mirror
-The van Iderstines still embark on The Sunday Drive!
-Actual Bentley?
-The same!
-And our task?
-To Hillbilly Mirror them. We got an old Chevvy
pickup we bashed real good. And overalls and trashy flannel shirts from Salvation Army.
-Thus ridicule the Upper CLAHHHHS! Love it! But to what end?
-A gradual one. Who wants Revolution? All that blood!
-I sure don’t. Holding onto a job and getting the kids to school wears me out!
-But that IS their design. You must begin to transcend for all our sakes!
-Fuck everybody! Double dose to our Bentley duo.
-Let’s seize something tomorrow! Take it over!
-Tomorrow’s not a good day.
Labels: Bentley, class, discontent, revolution, ridicule, satire, timing the revolution
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Revolution!
-Passion for Duty lights the fire
under the Revolutionary’s ass!
-Uh huh? And the old system,
with all its bitching malcontents,
somehow gets my favorite grind and
morning Danish to the coffee shop.
-Some quite unhappy people in the
process! All for your infinitesimal
bourgeois goals.
-Yeah? Well Shangra-La two or three
kingdoms over. Book a flight if
you can’t stand ordinary people
anymore.
-Maybe just wait for the Revolution.
-I’ll have to forget the coffee shop then.
Be destroyed in pique or incompetence.
Or replaced by a store selling posters
of expansive motto!
-More will be built to the common good!
-Can’t fuckin wait!
Labels: erratic upheaval, everyday life, propaganda, revolution, revolutionary zeal
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
High Standards
-That’s it! She put my jar of cashews in the frig!
-New to her! Give her a chance! She has one shot: you!
Or it’s back to Wasooga Land!
-Preferably!
-She’ll never get another visa.
-Then you and the Church better work something out.
I wash my hands!
...
-What a prick! Did she hafta go back to sure death?
-As luck would have it, the New Revolutionary Force
marched up Park Avenue, ended up sending HIM to
Wasooga Land. She and a boyfriend stay in his penthouse,
and put all sorts of things in the frig! You’d never guess!
-That’s the only Case of Justice I’ve ever heard!
-A few more before the inevitable Reign of Terror.
-Can’t we head THAT horror off?
-Not before we purge the Wealth Spawn!
Labels: African, Reign of Terror, revolution, rich, wealth
Tuesday, January 05, 2016
Signing Anyone Up?
-We need a Revolution!
-Last time I looked, each one of them
comprised of people. And all kinds.
Sorry, Republicans, with your bribing
billionaires!
-I think we can get Democrats.
-If they can extract themselves from footnotes?
Besides, they put a puppy in a commercial,
and figure it totally sews up the Women’s Vote.
-What do the Republicans put in a commercial?
-Worldwide Industrial Paradise where all choke to death!
-Brought to you by Free Market?
-And God on his better days!
-I heard He made a killing on commodities.
-That was War.
-Did Money ever lose a war?
-Maybe early on. Still want your revolution?
-Absolutely!
-Then you hafta understand the guys in the Havana Airport I saw. Sweepers. One asked
"Are we sweeping this floor for Socialism?"
“That, and coffee and cigarettes.” Smirking other.
-They took a half-hour break then.
-Are you saying Fidel lost them?
-Only his words. They loved him still.
-Is there...a bottom line in this somewhere?
-Neither party understands those guys:
The American Versions thereof!
-Who does?
-Trump!
-Jesus!
-He’ll bring around the coffee and cigarettes,
argue with them as to who’s more full of shit!
-We can still get these guys for the Revolution!
-Not in a textbook you can’t!
Labels: Capitalist, Cuba, Democrat, Fidel, God, Republican, revolution, Socialist, Trump, visionary, worker
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
The Revolutionary Woman
Widely assumed that since the Democrats will run a
woman for president, that many Republican gals will
“pull her lever” in the privacy of the voting booth.
And thus not do as they're told.
Such perversity! I'm...still not quite sure. Most Republican
Babes being Stockholm-Syndrome!
Though we had a few in our Revolution! Occupying the YW
in our town.
We had brought our husbands’ weapons from home. Plenty of
groceries too for the inevitable siege.
Which went on for two months. Were we absent from home
all that time?
Not really. Some got back in emergencies, negotiating with the
enemy to pass.
Certain categories of women allowed to:
1) The Happy, Prancing Fool
2) Sweet Sue
3) The Upright Old Broad
4) The Militant, but on simmer.
That first week, Happy, Prancing. We plastered to
the window to watch her wide smile and z-ing gait.
It was a thing of beautiful idiocy. And made the men
quite happy. They all hugged her when she could hold still.
Sweet Sue a week later. Oozed honey. The guards insisted
she stay with them a bit for danish and tea and her most-loving
look–-which lingered long after she left! Like the Cheshire
Cat’s Smile.
No mystery to the UOB, crepe dress crackling with static electricity,
high neckline.
Proper librarian! All the men deferred, pretending she still
carried some sex along with her that might yet charm old
Birkenstock-wearing lesbians.
The only Militant ever granted leave hid some weird sex deep
within her. All males intrigued. And of course willing to be ruled
by her with the future promise of the Great Whamma-Whamma.
No, we didn’t give up, despite what the right-wing media maintains. And maintains.
We negotiated an end to the Occupation.
Mostly done by those Militants who kept the fatal-cliche-mysteriouso down, intellectually.
The weapons still locked in a room at the YW, with our One and
Two having keys.
We failed simply because we wouldn’t shed blood, that is kill
someone’s father or bother.
Next time, we won’t hold to this. As very painful as that is.
Labels: female, Female Advocacy, guns, Republican, Republican Woman, revolution, Revolutionary Woman, violence, war, Women's Movement
Wednesday, October 07, 2015
Two Stages of Reaction
The new, scant millionaires are worried sick
most of the time! Government and everybody
else threatening to claw money back!
And always the atmosphere of violence!
Vocabulary of Hate! The children feel it at school.
The billionaires swim through the menace. Laugh. If it does come to guillotines and executioners, they’ll buy them.
And if that proves impossible, they’ll yacht to nations they already half own.
Their senators crewing.
Labels: billionaire, execution, executionor, guillotine, hate, millionaire, revolution, senator, Vocabulary of Hate
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
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
The Bottom Line
as Discussed by Billionaires, Deuce
-We’ve bought the country.
-Your gift for hyperbole.
-I can show you the charts. We’ve done it this time.
-Bought an assortment of politicians and elections–-
not really the same thing.
-Ah, but it is!
-And they’re a fractious lot, always. Some will stray
from the reservation.
-We’ll buy them back in that case. But, rest assured,
we were much more careful this time. These boys
and girls will remain bought. End of story.
-And what will they legislate?
-Nothing. That serves us best. And Obstruction. Plus,
enough scandal oozing down the pike to give them
face-time on TV. They’ll be happy as pigs in shit!
-Uh uh! Your Perfect Model cries for Revolution!
-That’s going on all the time.
-We buy it?
-Yup.
-God sanction all of this?
-Who else?
Labels: bought country, bought politicians, bribery, God, political corruption, revolution
Friday, October 10, 2014
Idealists and Cut-purses.
The Tragic Flaw
The next revolution came too fast.
I had just gotten my uniform tailored.
"Get rid of that pot, you'll be a movie star!"
my supervisor cracked.
Now he's dead, and the uniform's forbidden.
We have to find old clothes, paying dearly
for them.
"This is the first example," laughed Causely.
“Après le Deluge, le Gouge! Therefore we no
longer must mouth Socialist Man! Now it's
Free Market! Doesn't that just give you a tingle?"
"There'll be more. Classes compulsory."
"Can't wait! Hey! This one might last shorter
than the last."
"I've hidden my uniform."
"Shhhh! Just be patient. Their thieves
are undermining them even as we speak.
Their tragic flaw."
Labels: "Free" Market, Left Revolution, revolution, Right Revolution, Socialist Man, thievery, tragic flaw
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
The Brand New Revolution
The Relatively Happy Manager
was shattered at work that Monday
with the news that all the fork-lifts
were missing. The usual drivers watched
porno and sent out for donuts.
His supervisors screamed as usual, but in
a higher key.
Just acting. They had rented out the machines at
an exorbitant rate to The John Galt Physicians Corps, who were attacking City Hall at that moment.
Part of the First Privatized Revolution-–eschewing
the Army, any government component--were soon
joined by Chamber of Commerce types who gouged
everybody buying munitions.
The revolutionaries soon began fighting among
themselves over eventual splits of booty.
City Hall forgotten as a prize, and destroyed.
The overall leader, a militant accountant, was
summarily executed on the smoking ruins
by The Tea Party Patriotic Brigade.
A Rabbi went on TV to plead for reconciliation
but was ridiculed for not carrying a gun.
The other clergy had leased tanks from NATO partners.
One shadowy group who proudly called themselves
Wingnuts for Capitalism claimed they had the bomb, and would explode it at a random National Football League game.
Con men were freed from Danbury and other federal prisons.
One became the new, nominal leader, saying,
in his best Patrick Henry imitation: "The opportunity to so massively steal cannot be ignored."
Well, Money never lost a war. Or a revolution?
But shouldn’t either have some ideals? Okay, stupid
question. For America anyway.
The Commercial is Everything! had been the motto
going in. Most of the spouters are dead but the
words live on.
Non-revolutionaries held for ransom. The case
with our original manager. His wife fetched him
for ten thousand and they immediately left for
Paraguay.
Labels: American Capitalism, Commercialism, privatization, revolution
Friday, April 18, 2014
Running, and Running in Place
Civil Servants
-All hail the conquering hero! hey?
-I'll remain here.
-The rabble will yell themselves hoarse.
-And get hit for it, or have trinkets showered on them.
-How many of these marauders have...?
-This is my last. He'll kill me or use me. If the latter, I'll eventually
ease to retirement.
-We could have left with the others.
-I've run, and run in place. No more.
-One word is he wants you for a post.
-I'll serve. As if there's a choice.
-He'll bathe with you. It's how he does everything.
-Well I'm old and fat and not likely to attract him.
-Why is it that some exist like us, smoothing things between
cataclysms?
-It's a mystery I've never solved for myself.
-Despised by all?
-Probably.
Labels: civil servant, revolution, upheaval
Friday, December 27, 2013
The Revolution Where Quite a Few Attend
Gauging Aged Militancy
-When the Revolution comes I'll be too old.
-No excuse! You'll hafta choose!
-Okay, is there a word for the most extreme Left?
-Righties will say Communist.
-They won't know shit then either!
-Besides, even in a Revolution, one must
moderate his views. Sometimes hourly.
-Uh huh? And finally end up back with the rapacious righty mess we have now? FOR SALE!
-Money-Cronies arguing like hell to keep it
even as we speak! Actually, because we speak.
-That's their patriotism!
-We'll always have such patriots, sending minimum
wagers to glorious deaths.
-Anything would be better.
-No, not anything.
Labels: age, lefty, patriotism, revolution, righty, war
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Countries and Their Vulgarians
Assignments, Plum and No
When you got Paris or London or Prague or Tokyo,
as examples, the inevitable vulgarians at State
asked "Who'd you blow?"
But my assignment: Wyruskikan. “So who did you
really really piss off?”
It was a toilet. And so dangerous that hazard pay
was quadrupled.
My job was to mix in with the natives, and they
proved a sad and fatalistic lot.
Bodies were carted away wholesale in the
capital daily. Chicago plus New York times ten.
Wyruskikians took no precautions. Just shrugged.
In fact, many were shot, or exploded, while
shrugging.
I wondered if their religion gave then solace
in all this horror.
They just laughed. "Which one?" About fifty, and
they each changed faiths periodically. There existed
a state religion which all, of course, ignored.
I...shouldn’t give the impression that all shrugged.
Some cringed.
Like here, they had constitutional guarantees
and freedoms. In conversations with me they
felt ours as much of a joke.
I, of course, told them we were a work in progress.
They just gave back the slit-throat gesture they
ended most conversations with.
In the hills, rebels organize. The revolution is
imminent until we...well take them out with
mercenaries hired off Craig’s List.
I become CL liason. Told this will insure my future
through future layoffs under Republicans.
Another operative gets rocket launchers online, next
day FedEx delivery. “Paris next!” she brags.
Labels: assignment, Constitution, religion, revolution, State Department
Monday, July 29, 2013
Revolution
Freedoms, Cherished n’all
-She really stomped her pretty foot. Again and again!
-What's he like?
-Sorta flabby and sick-like white.
-I have a hunch who his father is.
-Anyway, they wanted our house, and I told them
not for sale. And that was that!
-What happened the next day?
-How do you even know there was a...?
-I know how they operate.
-Well a very nice fella came and said if we
got an appraisal, they'd pay that and all
closing costs.
-And he gave you a week?
-How'd you know that?
-I'll get hold of Blenky Wells. He's in real estate and
can get a good appraiser.
-Whoa whoa! I didn't say we'd...
-I just don't want my mother bloodied up, because
that's the next guy they send. No worry about your head,
though, being concrete.
-Why they can't get away with it, Little Ricky! Man's home,castle, search and seizure, boarding troops, and all that good shit! Constitution!
-Yeah, good shit all right. Like you heard listening
to moronic talk radio. Then you voted for these Fascists.
Well, here's your reward.
-I'm not selling!
-You are! No choice at present. But, a little birdie told me this situation can't last.
-I've got a gun!
-They've got bombs! I likewise don't wish to see my mother blown hither and yon.
The sale went through with smiles all around. The young couple, however, being murdered the following year. Mistaken house identity--for a hideout of party leaders.
Now COLONEL Blenky Wells, he of Real Estate and Revolution, asks about Ricky’s parents.
-We moved them to Serenity Spires, kicking and screaming.
-Would they want to return to the old house?
-Nah! He runs Penny Poker Night and she's on Welcoming Committee. Uh! Sigh of relief there,
young Colonel?
-Hell of a cleanup ahead there. Looks like they ran from room to room spraying blood.
-Panicked surprise that a revolution isn't a
lemonade party?
-I must remember that.
-As Churchill said, we will fight them in the suburbs!
-You mean I'm in the ruling cohort to keep the suburbs clear of the venomous Right?
-Now now! Language isn’t war! You mother raised you
to be more polite.
-Her rules are in temporary abeyance.
-Along with the Constitution?
-Well, they wiped their ass with that. Hafta start over.
-Including firing squads.
-No way! You’ve seen too many films. Exile serves us well. Amazon jungles, lecturing the monkeys.
-Who knows? They’ll need recruits.
Labels: bloodshed, Constitution, expropriation, mayhem, revolution, Right, Talk Radio
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Rewards
The Right Wing Government had featured much Freedom-Mouthing, and leaders
in limousine monstrosities followed by
Yes Persons in buses.
The leaders were murdered by the Revolution,
and scruffy newcomers took over in jeeps.
The Yes Persons, of course, switched
their tunes seamlessly.
Soon enough, the revolutionists evolved
into Armani suits, the limos returned,
and everything relaxed.
Five years in and we were pretty much
into the Every Man a King, Every
Woman a Queen phase.
Which takes us to the present milieu, best illustrated by a walk I took with my friend
in Minneapolis.
The first wave we encountered wore PERSON OF THE YEAR tshirts. Followed by LITTLE LEAGUE CAPTAINS of their various times.
Then GIRL SCOUT GOLDENS!--
COOKIE SELLERS EXTRAORDINAIRE!
Most of the award winners had pushed
ahead as a sort of impromptu parade,
some carrying actual trophies which
flayed around dangerously. Such flashing hazard proved too chaotic to TOP INNOVATIVE BUSINESSMAN 2032.
He organized them by screaming.
BOWLERS OF THE DECADE, ST PAUL, helped him, and soon was restored aimless milling, and Top Innovative's sanity.
BEST LITERARY SCHOLAR, TWIN CITIES, EXCLUDING DOWNTOWNS AND NEIGHBORHOODS SURROUNDING
GUTHRIE THEATER smiled, once we got close enough to read his tshirt.
We were about to test him with obscure allusions when a Grandmother shrieked
at us in no recognizable language.
Then we did decipher "Where's your accomplishments, Numbnuts
Nothings from Nowhere?”
"Mine are home. Mother taught us not to flaunt." I answered.
My friend added, "When all are marvels, who does the work?"
“Not you!” she snapped, this CHEERLEADER OF THE CENTURY. “I recognize your type, calling everybody whores and sluts!"
“If the shoe fits...” he fired back.
“Yeah? Well, when they snuffed the old regime, they missed you two. Well, let me tell you, that can be remedied!” She joined
THE PARAMOUNT-TOP DELINQUENTS (FORMER) CLUB, playing boccie in
Elliot park.
Finally she pointed to us, her silk jacket taking on a leaping iridescence in her agitation after missing a blocking shot.
Her team threatened with upraised fists too.
Discretion being the better part, etc., we slid though the prestigious crowd, finally entering the Hot Dog Depot.
Award-Winning of course.
We sat on a very large and quite artistic
BEST OF THE FOOTLONGS, SAN DIEGO trophy in marble.
You'd think they wouldn't allow that
but they did.
The Right Wing Government had featured much Freedom-Mouthing, and leaders
in limousine monstrosities followed by
Yes Persons in buses.
The leaders were murdered by the Revolution,
and scruffy newcomers took over in jeeps.
The Yes Persons, of course, switched
their tunes seamlessly.
Soon enough, the revolutionists evolved
into Armani suits, the limos returned,
and everything relaxed.
Five years in and we were pretty much
into the Every Man a King, Every
Woman a Queen phase.
Which takes us to the present milieu, best illustrated by a walk I took with my friend
in Minneapolis.
The first wave we encountered wore PERSON OF THE YEAR tshirts. Followed by LITTLE LEAGUE CAPTAINS of their various times.
Then GIRL SCOUT GOLDENS!--
COOKIE SELLERS EXTRAORDINAIRE!
Most of the award winners had pushed
ahead as a sort of impromptu parade,
some carrying actual trophies which
flayed around dangerously. Such flashing hazard proved too chaotic to TOP INNOVATIVE BUSINESSMAN 2032.
He organized them by screaming.
BOWLERS OF THE DECADE, ST PAUL, helped him, and soon was restored aimless milling, and Top Innovative's sanity.
BEST LITERARY SCHOLAR, TWIN CITIES, EXCLUDING DOWNTOWNS AND NEIGHBORHOODS SURROUNDING
GUTHRIE THEATER smiled, once we got close enough to read his tshirt.
We were about to test him with obscure allusions when a Grandmother shrieked
at us in no recognizable language.
Then we did decipher "Where's your accomplishments, Numbnuts
Nothings from Nowhere?”
"Mine are home. Mother taught us not to flaunt." I answered.
My friend added, "When all are marvels, who does the work?"
“Not you!” she snapped, this CHEERLEADER OF THE CENTURY. “I recognize your type, calling everybody whores and sluts!"
“If the shoe fits...” he fired back.
“Yeah? Well, when they snuffed the old regime, they missed you two. Well, let me tell you, that can be remedied!” She joined
THE PARAMOUNT-TOP DELINQUENTS (FORMER) CLUB, playing boccie in
Elliot park.
Finally she pointed to us, her silk jacket taking on a leaping iridescence in her agitation after missing a blocking shot.
Her team threatened with upraised fists too.
Discretion being the better part, etc., we slid though the prestigious crowd, finally entering the Hot Dog Depot.
Award-Winning of course.
We sat on a very large and quite artistic
BEST OF THE FOOTLONGS, SAN DIEGO trophy in marble.
You'd think they wouldn't allow that
but they did.
Labels: award, Fascism, revolution, reward, socialism
Friday, May 11, 2012
Blue Ribbon For Cynical Conversation
-Look! Revolution? Then the guy selling hot dogs gets
his balls shot off when he wanders too close.
Revolution is morally wrong.
-Nobody promised a rose garden.
-Convince the parties to clean up their acts just a little.
That’ll do wonders!
-Good luck with that.
Labels: political reform, revolution
