Wednesday, October 10, 2018
Basic Right Lyric
Wednesday's truth
is Tuesday’s lie,
then vice versa.
O me or my!
Socialism wipes its ass
as if its shit
some divine gift
to us deplorables!
But What is Truth? asked
Jesting Pilate. Sigh that
in Ghinny?
(He being
Eyetalian
really!)
Labels: deplorables, Italian, Populism, relativity, Right, Roman, socialism, Truth
Monday, January 09, 2017
The Reinvention of the Wheel Goes Not At All
-When I finally got up to the front of the
line, a Sears' lady gave me a shirt and
their apologies. Hokie Kennedy, the hockey
guy? Last line they introduced.
-Capitalism's last slap-shot to your balls!
-Not quite. I'll be able to use the old Sears
card in Dillards, Kohls, and...one other.
-Thus does the despised system prosper in
adversity. Like a huge bag of shit you punch
to exhaustion!
-I've stopped. Shoulders tired, arms tired,
the whole works ready for a gin and tonic!
-You're done!
-Just about! Why am I happy?
-That's the whole goal! Make you just nuts
enough.
-Look! Karl Freakin Marx, I got a shirt!
Every system tends towards Tyranny!
Government the very worst! I go with the
one gives me a shirt!
-Slave! Slave mentality.
-Oh Massa! Buy Old George a tie, now, for
funerals?
-YOU’RE THE REASON SOCIALISM FAILS HERE!
-Would you like my autograph?
Labels: bankruptcy, Capitalism, Marx, Sears, Slavery, socialism, tyranny
Saturday, August 06, 2016
-Too Much of Your Flattening Socialism!
and what of the guys down at the docks?
Oxford English and Tea Time?
Well I’d much prefer the foulest of languages,
and booze, and brawling!
-And their women?
-Wow! Raw sex, and yet they drive
romantic stakes into their black hearts!
-Obviously, we must temper social progress
to fit your literary imagination.
-Obviously!
Labels: docks, literary, literary imagination, longshoremen, romantic imagination, sex, socialism
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Managing a Personal Crisis
-Your Government has a stake in
Dorine’s accepting you back.
Maintained “Drack” Carruthers–-
as his official badge announced.
-Cut it out! I don’t believe it!
Too penny-ante!
-You’d think, but both political parties
see our Nation’s future as comprised
of vibrant families.
-So what?
-What is you and she marry, produce
babies.
-Uh huh? Well, let me tell you
something! How about my
taking HER back? Why am
I always the meeching victim?
-Well, you mostly are. It’s been
your history.
-Is it...just the Government?
-Well, with our partners. Primary to your case:
Rejuvenation-Max LLC.
-Not familiar.
-You shoot a goose grease up your ass daily?
-Hemorrhoids.
-Precisely. Cost them a penny a pound.
By the time you use a pound it’s over a
thousand bucks to them.
-But I don’t understand. With or without
Dorine, I’d still use the product.
-Yeah but outside of a stable relationship,
you get erratic, miss a dose now and again.
-And multiply that by other fuckbrains...?
-Bingo! They’ve asked her to take you
back also...and there are others.
-I’m mad to come in contact with them!
-Oh?
-Whitman.
-Your profile mentions your quoting him. I...like your
eyes when you do. Dreamy not a bad approximation.
-Stop it! My eyes? Hardly know they’re around.
-Nonetheless. And I’m being objective. Dreamy.
-Well, I get a kick outa that! Coming, uh, back to Dorine...
-Oh I think we just moved on from her, don’t you?
Labels: breakup, Fascism, Government "Partners", Government Policy, relationship, social work, socialism, Whitman
Friday, June 12, 2015
Young Law
Fresh from law school, neither Lorne or Erin find work.
So they decide to sue...anyone. For giggles and experience.
Enter Chuckie McCoy. Fierce Socialist, but money in the
family--though he pretends otherwise.
With his spurring, the attorneys file suit against a small
beachwear manufacturer, seeking damages for flagrant
violations of overtime regulations.
They thought the Judge, while not dismissing things as
frivolous, would throw it back to the proper government
agency regulating same.
But, under the Republicans, regulation little or none, so he,
a Democrat, lets it go on.
In the meantime, our fledgling attorneys do get hired by
separate law firms. They keep the case as a sort of service,
social hobby. The firms came aboard too, warily.
Two years pass, and the original manufacturer absorbed
by a rapacious conglomerate, which wants messy legal
triviality off the books, so a meeting arranged to forge
a settlement in a baronial penthouse boardroom atop a
new skyscraper of flash and aluminum.
They offer to pay ten thousand to each aggrieved worker.
The young lawyers pour sarcasm back.
The initial Socialist has become a maniacal Righty, but such
metamorphosis alters little re immediate Justice--except
the reluctance to pursue it.
Just really curbs civilized expression.
What’s finally resolved: Workers receive fifteen thousand each.
PCM in Conglomerate-Speak.
Paper clip money.
Since, their efforts pro bono, of course, our attorneys get
nothing, but their firms like the PR value: fighting for the
underdog, and sweeten their bonuses thereby.
The former Socialist glad to see it all end: embarrassed
by his once shrieking out for the little guy crushed by
etc etc etc.
Now he’s for the Freedom for that same little guy to
choose to be crushed.
Inside, doesn’t feel that different.
Labels: conglomerate, Justice, Law, lawyer, overtime, Right, socialism
Wednesday, April 01, 2015
In Another Country
-You have the right office, but the wrong country!
-Where have I been?
-I was about to ask.
-Touring England with a Beatles Tribute band.
-Which are you? They never had a Boris Karloff.
-I'm in the business end. And aren't you exaggerating
somewhat? A Brad Pitt I'm not, but...
-We'll put Boris on your license. No use using real names
just yet. New country and all.
-And starting crookedly?
-The more things change...
-What will this cost me?
-A dinner. Your money will only be stolen down the line.
-Ah hah! Girls still wanna have more fun?
-You got that right! Now put on your best Boris Karloff smile
while I snap a few digital beauties. I'll put it on the UN Approved Form, laminate same.
-Didn’t they go home after the referendum?
-Nope. Partying on! At any rate, they imported a French restaurant,
and we'll go there. There's nothing else in this shithole.
-Excuse YOUR French?
-No apology for accuracy.
-Bye the bye, why does it REALLY stink so?
-They closed the State Meatpacking Plant. Not too carefully.
-Another triumph of Socialism?
-Actually, was run by an American firm. So, Triumph of
Capitalism!
-They're running neck and neck.
-And, after dinner, what? Movie, Boris?
-I don't know. I guess. We're playing on an entirely new
field here!
-We'll make it familiar.
Labels: Beatles, Boris Karloff, Capitalism, date, Motor Vehicles, referendum, socialism, UN
Wednesday, March 04, 2015
System(s)
Property
-When it was decreed that everyone own land,
some purchased just a few square feet.
-Largely symbolic?
-You can say that again! Just enough room for him
to stand, but John Q has the harrowing fantasy that
someone wants to take it away!
-Thus, arguments?
-Add shootings and wars!
-Therefore, Property is evil!
-Nonsense! The System will work admirably if
everyone just calms down.
-You could say that for any System.
-And will.
Labels: arguments, Capitalism, property, shootings, socialism, system, violence, war
Monday, November 18, 2013
Walking the Cat Back
FBI or Other
-We hafta walk the cat back, or no case.
-This is one erratic couple! We’ll never find out what-all
they did, if anything.
-Try as you would with the aimless feline!--thus the
expression.
-I don’t need your schooling! Where the hell’s the meat?
Sharing a jerk-off Lefty fantasy is not a crime!
-It is to the Righties in charge at present.
-Strictly political! What shit! Am I to make a career
of pleasing these cretinous Wingers?
-Bingo! You can see! He can see! O thank the Lord
my Novena wasn’t in vain!
-Uh huh? And does this all switch when Lefties come in?
-They never really do.
Labels: Right Wing, socialism, walking cat back
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Wench Dead?
In Another Country
-I had no legs and met a man with no cock.
-How’d he pee?
-Through a kinda straw.
-Extraordinary!
-Pronounce it ex-TRAW-din-ree, like the Brits.
-Sort of crispier?
-You got it! Never caught your name by the way.
-Raw Expletive.
-Ex-TRAW-din-ree!
-You think so? Not around here. Besides, I married Expletive Deleted.
-You balance each other out?
-I wouldn’t say that.
-Well, gotta wheel! But won’t get far. Charging station for my chair?
-That’s Socialism.
-I expect to pay.
-Then you’ll never be disappointed.
Labels: charging station, expletive, mutilated, socialism
Sunday, January 06, 2013
Jewels
Maurice bought Rose a dishwasher and
had plumber Jock install it while she was at her meeting for the annual fete--she
and Maurice would again run the Beanbag Toss.
“What it cost? A dollar?”
“I’ll put it into…”
“Don’t even think about it! We’ll
have suds up the whazoo!
It comes with a bottle of some recommended
crap.”
“Yeah one capitalistic hand washes
the other.”
“Worry not, Rosie. This beauty
probably made in
China under Oriental Socialism.”
“Uh huh? The Long March of
Manufacturing!”
Once Maurice stopped instructing her
due to a mess
at his office, Rose got the hang
quite easily.
Though the last thing he said was she
was a Luddite
and would’ve been happy in her
grandmother’s time,
going to the drugstore for a copy of Ranch Romances.
She looked it up on the net and found
a story some pulp collector
had scanned in. A bashful cowboy
stands up to ruthless cattle barons.
One Delphina from Fifth Avenue
somehow finds her way into the
expansive neighborhood, falling for Gary
Cooper-ish him.
They’re partners for collective good,
but an obstacle is her having
lost her virtue to a New York sharpie.
Thus, no longer the cleanest
sagebrush on the acreage.
Cowboy, though, forgoes his mother’s implanted
advice and, well,
Love conquers all, and just about everything
else. And Rose, sort of.
“And at a penny a word!” she muses,
the dishwasher churning though
its weird sounds downstairs, Dawn glowing on a shelf like an
immense jewel.
Labels: Capitalism, China, Communism, dishwasher, Gary Cooper, Luddite, Ranch Romances, socialism
Friday, November 09, 2012
A Certain Republican Speaks, Further Foreshadowing
“So we lost the Spicks? Know
any old Speedy Gonzales jokes?
With blacks, lost cause anyway.
Scratch them!–between the knife scars pref-
erably. As for the young, they still know shit!
Sex,rock n’ roll,video games,and space drugs.
Also, lots of hugs–-where can I puke?
(Won’t mention Jews...very PC in this place.)
Some faggots elected with sup-
port of depraved European brand
of Anything-Goes Socialism. Then,
women didn’t realize how much
they’d get to enjoy vaginal probes.
And relish rape, should it fortunately
arrive. Next time we’ll buy their votes
with vibrators: Hey, since old pros say
party must renew, there’s idea for sex-
y start! In any case, it’s
a White Ship, Honey. And,
going down, Glory!
“So we lost the Spicks? Know
any old Speedy Gonzales jokes?
With blacks, lost cause anyway.
Scratch them!–between the knife scars pref-
erably. As for the young, they still know shit!
Sex,rock n’ roll,video games,and space drugs.
Also, lots of hugs–-where can I puke?
(Won’t mention Jews...very PC in this place.)
Some faggots elected with sup-
port of depraved European brand
of Anything-Goes Socialism. Then,
women didn’t realize how much
they’d get to enjoy vaginal probes.
And relish rape, should it fortunately
arrive. Next time we’ll buy their votes
with vibrators: Hey, since old pros say
party must renew, there’s idea for sex-
y start! In any case, it’s
a White Ship, Honey. And,
going down, Glory!
Labels: electoral loss., PC, rape, Republican, Republican future, Republican whiteness, socialism, vaginal probe
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
Monday, March 12, 2012
Even Olaf Q
knows, no free lunch
as Scandinavia lurches
to bankruptcy, cradle
to grave. Tops in quality
of life? Yeah, uh huh?
Socialist survey slop!
Almost past disquieting:
obsessions with sex.
Must be the cold.
Well everything gets old,
and we need moral fibre
to murder ragtops,
thus saving your frozen ass.
knows, no free lunch
as Scandinavia lurches
to bankruptcy, cradle
to grave. Tops in quality
of life? Yeah, uh huh?
Socialist survey slop!
Almost past disquieting:
obsessions with sex.
Must be the cold.
Well everything gets old,
and we need moral fibre
to murder ragtops,
thus saving your frozen ass.
Labels: Scandinavia, socialism, Sweden, welfare state
Friday, May 21, 2010
Party of No
-How do you counter Party of No, Mr Candidate?
-I say Party of No all right! No to stealing
our Constitution! No to Socialism, No...
-Get the idea. And it's lousy. Every time you repeat
the language of a charge you lodge it further in the
sucker's head!
-Well what...?
-Positive! Party of Yes! Yes to Founding Fathers' Vision!
Yes to...!
-Too highbrow! How do you smash them with Socialism
that way? I mean really smash!
-More snidely. We don't want the reporters to bring up the
frozen-ass countries like Sweden, Denmark and Norway
where it works.
-Shit! Nothing works! Aren't they broke too? Like us?
-You have a tendency to steer towards academic discussion.
It's okay to appear fair. But ram it up Dems' ass
every second!
-They'll point out that some social programs loved
by our own people.
-Insidious! Tearing the fabric of Freedom!
-Doesn't everything? Really?
-And you're not running for mayor of Copenhagen!
-Wish I was. Tivoli nice.
AFTER
-Don’t take this unkindly, but your candidate's the dumbest
bastard I've encountered in this work.
-Kind to his dogs.
-So was Hitler, but he was smart before the Jew hate
ate him from the inside out.
-Well nothing’s gonna eat our boy! We keep him simple.
-Watch out for Race: he’ll blunder.
-Hey he’s married to a Black!
-What?
-Well, deeply-tanned from Alabam. Beach bunny.
-Better bleach her up!
-How do you counter Party of No, Mr Candidate?
-I say Party of No all right! No to stealing
our Constitution! No to Socialism, No...
-Get the idea. And it's lousy. Every time you repeat
the language of a charge you lodge it further in the
sucker's head!
-Well what...?
-Positive! Party of Yes! Yes to Founding Fathers' Vision!
Yes to...!
-Too highbrow! How do you smash them with Socialism
that way? I mean really smash!
-More snidely. We don't want the reporters to bring up the
frozen-ass countries like Sweden, Denmark and Norway
where it works.
-Shit! Nothing works! Aren't they broke too? Like us?
-You have a tendency to steer towards academic discussion.
It's okay to appear fair. But ram it up Dems' ass
every second!
-They'll point out that some social programs loved
by our own people.
-Insidious! Tearing the fabric of Freedom!
-Doesn't everything? Really?
-And you're not running for mayor of Copenhagen!
-Wish I was. Tivoli nice.
AFTER
-Don’t take this unkindly, but your candidate's the dumbest
bastard I've encountered in this work.
-Kind to his dogs.
-So was Hitler, but he was smart before the Jew hate
ate him from the inside out.
-Well nothing’s gonna eat our boy! We keep him simple.
-Watch out for Race: he’ll blunder.
-Hey he’s married to a Black!
-What?
-Well, deeply-tanned from Alabam. Beach bunny.
-Better bleach her up!
Labels: Party of No, Republican, socialism
Friday, May 14, 2010
Two Attitudes
EUROPEAN CITIZEN
Why remain here if no advantage? Charm and culture will sustain,
but only after health and decency. I expect social benefits and realize
they're expensive and we all of us must pay.
AMERICAN BILLIONAIRE
Butt out, Nanny! Oh there are rare instances when your massive cash
needed by me to avert disaster for everyone.
So, privatize gain and socialize loss, yeah! I love it!
In any case, it's advantageous for all to help out, as it is for me to pay
little or no tax.
As a general rule, though, GIVE ME ELBOW ROOM AND GET THE HELL
OUT OF THE WAY!
As to day-to-day enigmas, well the weak sisters will always be with us.
Much as I enjoy their begging the government, preferably in English,
they're best handled by the those tireless do-gooders in churches.
Amen. And fuck you!
EUROPEAN CITIZEN
Why remain here if no advantage? Charm and culture will sustain,
but only after health and decency. I expect social benefits and realize
they're expensive and we all of us must pay.
AMERICAN BILLIONAIRE
Butt out, Nanny! Oh there are rare instances when your massive cash
needed by me to avert disaster for everyone.
So, privatize gain and socialize loss, yeah! I love it!
In any case, it's advantageous for all to help out, as it is for me to pay
little or no tax.
As a general rule, though, GIVE ME ELBOW ROOM AND GET THE HELL
OUT OF THE WAY!
As to day-to-day enigmas, well the weak sisters will always be with us.
Much as I enjoy their begging the government, preferably in English,
they're best handled by the those tireless do-gooders in churches.
Amen. And fuck you!
Labels: Annals of Capitalism, socialism
Friday, September 26, 2008
Rocco and the Wharton Professor
ROCCO
Well well! Mrs Onofrio's little boy, now teaching at
Wharton School of Gouging Capitalism, University
of Pennsylvania. So, DR! Onofrio, how’s the latest
government bailout of the fiercely independent
private sector going?
DR O
I’ve screamed about these excesses for five years!
ROCCO
What do you teach at Right-Wing Wharton anyway?
DR O
Economics.
ROCCO
What is that, exactly?
DR O
Nobody knows. It’s in Discovery.
ROCCO
So? Tell me, is this new government ownership of
private companies Socialism or Communism?
DR O
Who the fuck cares!
ROCCO
Wouldn't want your department chairman hear that, would you?
DR O
Okay Rocco, so I'm a fuckin hypocrite. It's a big club.
ROCCO
The biggest. And don’t despair that nobody listens to you.
First fuckin grownup lesson.
------
Strivers leave Rocco’s South Philadelphia, but they always return–
most often for Mama’s food.
ROCCO
Well well! Mrs Onofrio's little boy, now teaching at
Wharton School of Gouging Capitalism, University
of Pennsylvania. So, DR! Onofrio, how’s the latest
government bailout of the fiercely independent
private sector going?
DR O
I’ve screamed about these excesses for five years!
ROCCO
What do you teach at Right-Wing Wharton anyway?
DR O
Economics.
ROCCO
What is that, exactly?
DR O
Nobody knows. It’s in Discovery.
ROCCO
So? Tell me, is this new government ownership of
private companies Socialism or Communism?
DR O
Who the fuck cares!
ROCCO
Wouldn't want your department chairman hear that, would you?
DR O
Okay Rocco, so I'm a fuckin hypocrite. It's a big club.
ROCCO
The biggest. And don’t despair that nobody listens to you.
First fuckin grownup lesson.
------
Strivers leave Rocco’s South Philadelphia, but they always return–
most often for Mama’s food.
Labels: bailout, bailout Communism.Governent takeover Socialism, Government takeover Communism, socialism
