Archive for the 'politics' Category

We Should Get A Blue Ribbon

I swear where I live may — in the electoral map sense — be the solidly tried & true bluest county in America. There are more George W. Bush supporters in the caves of Tora Bora & the streets of Falujah than here in Windham County, VT.

Remember 911? Not the attacks specifically but the atmosphere. Afterwards. Like all of the sudden we were supposed to stop bitching viciously about the Government. At least in public. Was it like that where you live? Did you think it was weird about how a suicide bomber troubled to check his bag into the luggage bay of the plane he meant to blow up? I sure did.

But how much time passed after 911 before you dared to strike up a conversation about the Koran they found in that oddly checked bag which the airline conveniently forgot to put on the plane? I mean mouth off about it to drunken strangers.

My guess is some months, or a year, passed before conspiracy theories thread even tentatively into beer chats with strangers at your local bar.

Not mine.

I watched the World Trade Center attacks on the TV at the Bar here in Vermont. Happened to be there enjoying some beer that morning. I was as shocked as anyone when the plane slammed dramatically into the second building. Goodness gracious great ball of fire!

I couldn’t help but think to myself: Are they that evil??

Not the Arabs. Of course nobody knew it was them yet. Because they had yet to discover that copy of the Koran in the hijacker’s lost luggage. So we had no idea at that point that the terrorists were Arab.

My first thought — which I shared out loud with everyone at the Bar that morning — was:

Dick Cheney!

A few oddballs in the bar clearly — yet quietly, since they were uncomfortably in the minority — disagreed with the notion. After all America was under attack. And here I was suggesting we attacked ourselves? What kind of nation would do such a thing?

“Can’t you just picture him?” I conjectured. “I bet Dick Cheney flew those planes himself — with some kind of high tech remote control device.”

“Yeah — like an Atari joy-stick!” Someone suggested. Everyone laughed. Because Truth is the funniest joke of them all.

Then the first building fell down. That wasn’t funny. Still…I believe we were the first people in America to suspect a 911/Inside Job conspiracy.

I’ve Insulted Georgie W!


I done figgered it out!

Tell you what I say: So-called President George W. Bush is the precise reason why America’s Founding Fathers provided We The People with the Articles of Impeachment. For goodnesses sake — use them!

Give him & Dick Cheney both the fair trial which is their Constitutional due.

Subpeona Colin Powell. He’ll tell the truth. Under the power of a Congressional subpoena General Powell will be duty-bound to. Much like he felt bound to lie treacherously, at the Commander in Sleaze’s behest, to the peaceful inhabitants of Earth.

People Magazine will rate it in the top 5 most memorable events in television history.

Billions will watch the world over. Most important: Earth’s peaceful inhabitants will feel proud to watch America take responsibility for the cruel acts of our leaders.

There’ll be music in the cafes at night and wild dance bashes in the street. Peace will get the chance. America will have president Nancy.

It’ll be our first genuine victory since Georgie W. declared war on terror.

Georgie W. will lift off on Marine One from the white house lawn. The red presidential carpet is rolled & whisked off — never to be sullied by Georgie W’s crooked footsteps again.



Humankind breathes a sigh of cosmic relief.

Yeah! All this — So easy a crackhead could do it!

Alas it’s in the hands of congressional Democrats. We best redouble efforts to force our representatives to act on behalf of the voters to whom they’re beholden. History will frown gravely on inaction. Impeachment is a life or death matter. Bush/Cheney are deeply & rightly suspected of High & murderous Crimes. They must be tried.

Meanwhile back at the White House…

Hmm. Isn’t that where the President lives? Yeah. But W. Bush is not a duly elected president.

“Well,” Pippi wondered in her blog some while back, “Should we call him the Resident?”

But Pippi is hardcore and Resident doesn’t verbally gouge that rude smirk right off his face. So she went with squatter. To which I objected on grounds of my belief in the essential goodness of squatters. I occasionally take up temporary residence in a building to which I’ve no claim. A place where, according to police, it was not my prerogative to sleep.

It was wrong, I commented, to lump the largely innocent squatter culture inadvertently in league with the murderous ilk of Bush/Cheney’s.

Pippi agreed. But how to formally address our nation’s unelected leader until he gets his ass kicked deservedly to the Pennsylvania Avenue curb?

Hmm. Bush deals crack cocaine. Shacks up at some digs which ain’t his. What does that make him?

The Crack Kingpin in Residence?

I was stumped as an under-ripe plumb. I promised Pippi I would take enough drugs — soon — to think up a moniker befitting that dumb hoser.

Historians may hope one day to learn whether Americans of conscience resisted the cruelty unloosed on an already weary Earth by Bush/Cheney. They’ll want to know what people thought about a president who assumed power granted by a Supreme Court facilitated internal coup. On the heels of an election he incontestably stole.

Every nefarious move the thieves made was captured on film. Minutest nuances were detailed & analyzed & glossed deceptively over. With assurances that a victory declared by the candidate who clearly scored fewer votes than his opponent would make Thomas Jefferson beam with pride to be American.

When I gamble money on a racehorse I must remember to learn — or pretend at least — to enjoy it when I lose.

Perhaps I should study the strategy Bush’s team used to propel their narrow loss into a two-term Oval Office stint.

With greatest ease for those who wish to not just enjoy but profit unnaturally from the spoils of their own defeat.

Yeah. Well I don’t care how splendidly defeat has treated him. Bush lost. And in the interest of historical accuracy — as requested by my old friend Pippi — I propose a title to befit the current White House occupant.

Nice & simple. Just the truth. One morsel for future historians who will want to know how smart people like my blog readers & I describe George W. Bush. I’m tempted to call him a dumb honkey slut & leave it at that. But whether he stole the election or won it fair & square W Bush would still be a dumb honkey slut in my book.

The point is he did not win. And what do we call people who do not win? We use one word. Which niftily encapsulates what George W. Bush is — a character description of sorts — in the eyes of a decisive majority of Americans.


George W. Bush is a Loser.

Ooh! Better yet:

the Two Time Loser!

Yeah — and you know the rules Loser.

3 strikes & you are Out.

Cheap Thrills on Planet Earth

part one: conspiracy theories & longshot bets & make.believe

How does one describe the Super Bowl to Plutonians?

First question: why would I want to?

I need practice.

I’ve been hired to cover the ’08 presidential race for a periodical on Pluto. Which one you ask? I, ah…I get back to you on that. I’m not done making it up yet.

It’ll be a good one though! Very prestigious.


To gain an intellectual grip on what their problem is one must understand Americans’ relationship to their National Football League.

“What’s the big deal about American Football?” Any Plutonian will ask. That’s because they think football is a 2-team contest where players kick a ball into nets with their foot.

Every toe & heeled inhabitant in the cosmos plays football, right?

Yes. For certain. But in America they call Football soccer. American football is a different creature entirely.


[For video: Click then scroll to 11.27.2006 Hail Mary Play option].

Despite that it largely involves an oblong shaped, just barely ball-like object handled, when it counts most, by the hands of two violently opposing hoards, Americans are raised to believe that the word Football most accurately describes their nation’s version of the game. They accept this failure of linguistics as fact and are prone, even, to wonder bewildered why the rest of the world calls soccer football.

Stupid foreigners.

Each year in early winter America’s National Football League holds its’ playoff/elimination contests to determine which two teams will compete in the final match known as the Super Bowl. The Super Bowl’s winner is the World Champion of American football.

As I write this just four hopefuls remain. One of these is the New England Patriots.

In the north-east corner of the nation, New England is the region of America that was first colonized by Europeans. This wave of settlers came from England across 3000 miles of sea. The British royal family claimed lordship over these colonial settlers. Charged them high taxes to live in what, soon after, became America. So the colonials declared their independence from England and fought them off with rifles, cannons & bayonets.

Proponents of America in this war were called Patriots. The war began in the region we now know is New England. So they named the local pro US football team after the Patriots. The New England Patriots.

After two planes knocked the World Trade Center down in 2001 it was very important to be a known Patriotic American. One example: in the wake of the attacks, tens of millions in the US attached miniature, red white & blue American flags to the FM radio antennas on their automobiles. The fuel efficiency lost to reduced aerodynamics was more than offset by a sense of participation in this unprecedented display of national pride; this way for ordinary Americans to show they, like Patriots in the Revolutionary War days, wanted America to win big.

Who wouldn’t? Unless you’re With The Terrorists…

Those flags are long ripped, tattered & gone poof. Like sad snips of confetti swept up in dirt piles from the dance-floor of last night’s party. Another good time that was too good to last. But back in the day…boy! Everywhere you turned there was a flag snap-whapping in the noxious, exhaust fume-filled breeze. And it was good to be an American.

Hell the PATRIOTS even won the first Super Bowl after September 11!

Security was tight at whatever stadium hosted 2002’s big game. Officials feared America’s most-watched sporting event could prove fertile ground for another attack. But the game came off without a hitch — right down to the celebratory confetti.

Much ado about lost American Lives was made during the pregame television programmes. Paul McCartney praised the US military for their fine work bombing Afghanistan — a conflict, coincidentally, whose commencement was announced on TV by the so-called President, some months earlier, during the half-time break of an NFL game.

At half-time in the 2002 Super Bowl names were scrolled across a giant screen of all the innocent American heroes who courageously gave their lives for Freedom at the World Trade Center & Pentagon on Sep 11 2001.

Stored at each end of the playing field in gigantic container drums, the confetti was red & blue — Patriot team colors. There were drum-loads filled with their opponent’s blue & orange moniker colors as well. But these were arranged for only to not tip off the confetti vendors to one blindingly plain Fact: the likelihood that the blue & orange team would win was roughly equal to the odds that something George W. Bush said was true.

The game went down to the wire. The score was even with seconds left to play. Then, a heartbeat before time ran out, the Patriots scored & broke the tie & won.

BOOM. Phwoof!


Hurled skyward.

The stadium’s lights reflected from the confetti snips to conjure the optical illusion of a third color, white, flashed amid gargantuan, resplendently spiraled red & blue plumes.

Like a Freedom Tornado. Ripped out from the top of a big ol’ can of Osama bin whoop ass.

The confetti settled. America caught its’ breath. And the profundity sunk in.

The Patriot’s long-odd victory provided proof positive that God is America’s staunchest proponent. A Patriot of Biblical proportions. God had the Patriots win that day so there’ll be no doubt that He wants America to win & Win Big. Bigger than big.

God wants America to win everything.

I watched the ‘02 Super Bowl with friends at Superstar Brown’s crib. We were swept in by the moment and got a little carried away.

“U-S-A!” The room erupted in chant.

“U-S-A!!! U-S-A!!


Yeah — and we think America sucks. Shit I don’t even like Football — I think it the dumbest game in the whole wide world of sports. The only thing I like less than football itself are the New England Patriots.

They stand for all the wrong things in my book.

Still I cheered like a goon when they won. Because the ‘02 Super Bowl was a farce; the outcome rigged surely as the 2000 Presidential election’s. And we knew it. We called it for the Pats, at a beer party the night before, on the basis of conspirtorial hypothesis.

So we cheered for ourselves & had us a cheap thrill & some whoops.

What truly amazes, in retrospect, is that it worked. It was, and remains, America’s single greatest — indeed only Global War on Terror triumph.

Hail to the Pretenda Chief!


This year I’m hootin it up for the New Orleans Saints. I hope they win it all and stomp lots of opponent’s faces along the way.

I don’t like football. Really. But I’m perpetually broke & a sucker for a good time. And when you pick a team you want to see win & they do it’s cheap thrills that don’t cost a dime.

Only thing is: the want must be genuine. There’s gotta be risk taken; to get a hoot when they win it’ll need to not matter precisely but bum you out a bit nonetheless if you lose. Cheap thrills don’t come free afterall.

Here’s why I’m for the Saints:

1. The time me & Superstar Brown dropped $150 on breakfast in the French Quarter. We couldn’t finish off the bottle of wine that accounted for a disproportional share of the tab. So the waiter brown-bagged it. We stepped out in the mid-morning New Orleans soup-heat. Promptly passed out on the sidewalk, bottle of wine gripped firmly in hand.

Awoke. Sipped. Whooped & strolled on. Thinkin to see if those girls from Memphis were still around…

2. I favor the underdog. I like it when someone who’s not supposed to win does — I like what that says about me. And — based both on their team’s Super Bowl win odds (5-1: the longest shot on the board) & by virtue of their city being submerged recently — the underdog qualification is well met by the town of New Orleans.

I say bet ’em smartly to win on the basis of their own raw want to. That’s my plan — soon as I get my first paycheck from Pluto.

Low Blows Cheap Thrills & Assorted Spoils of Victory

Any Republicans on the speedWay tonight?

If so:

It sucks to be YOU!!


I drove past an American flag flown at half-mast today. Strange. I watched CNN — even in my sleep — all week, but heard no news of a new National Tragedy.

Quite the contrary.

Made me wonder: Is the flag-waver a loyalist grief-struck for the GOP?


I visited my psychiatrist today. We chatted about the election for a few…

‘You know Mike E,’ He said, ‘I have been Depressed for the better part of 6 years! Incurably — and I am a Pro. But now…Am I cured? No. But now I feel Uplifted.’

‘Shit yeah,’ I agreed, ‘It was AWESOME dude!!”

With that my doctor turned me loose with my free monthly jar of mixed-salt amphetamines. Even upped my dose a wee bit!

It’s been great freekin week.


Two Words — to describe the feeling while I watched the election on TV:

Cheap Thrills!


Vermont reelected our Flatlander Pinhead Republican Governor, Jim Douglas, to a third term.

Know what? Right On! We need a governor like Douglas right now. To punch like a bag when we’re ornery.

Legislative Democrats & Progressives gained Big in Vermont on Tuesday and now enjoy a Veto-Proof state-house majority.

Which means our governor is now an utterly inconsequential Flatlander Pinhead Wannabee.

Jim Douglas said he wants Vermont to be the ‘Silicon Valley for Alternative Energy.’ Yet on his watch a potentially vibrant Windmill Industry was literally chased from the state by a handfull of hill-top homeowners who complained that turbines would ruin their ridgeline views.

I have a message for the people with Rigdeline Views: Your view is of the Green Mountains.

And the Green Mountains do not belong to you.

I propose: Legislative Action to formally welcome the Windmill Industry back to Vermont. The bill should authorize the state to seize acerage by eminent domain — as per US Supreme Court’s Kelo v. City of New London decision — from anyone who don’t like how it looks. Then sell the homes cheap to good Vermont-folk who do.

We should make laws like that from time to time. To insure for the children an Earth that’s habitable & free from tyranny.

And to remind ourselves, when vexed by the question — who has the Power? — of that one Tuesday in ‘06 when America proved unequivocally that the Power is We.


On a local note:

My buddy Ian ran for State Representative for Brattleboro’s district 2.


Pillsbury faces Bigelow for Windham-3-2 seat

Tuesday, October 31
BRATTLEBORO — The incumbent in Windham-3-2, Daryl Pillsbury [Independent], is being challenged by Ian Bigelow, 23, running on the Wingnut ticket, and a self-professed “dishwashing politician.”

A class act all the way & we’re all proud for him. He pulled 15% of the vote — 205 out of 1300 cast — from the popular 3-term incumbent…..

…..Without lifting so much as a finger, campaign-wise, save for hanging around a few hours with a homemade placard sign on election day.

Who has the Power?


George W. Bush & his murderous cronies maybe. One wonders: Why in hell did he not can Rumsfeld a month ago? A week? My guess is had he fired Rumsfeld one hour before polls closed in Montana the 2000-vote Senate race gap would’ve closed in Republican favor.

Are they that dumb for real?

Or is it a Set Up — a Scapegoat Job — a way, when the Big Shitpuddle drops, to dodge the blame?

One must wonder if They want to lose.


Maybe that’s the Difference between ’em & good peeps like you & me.

We can’t win every time.

But we want to!


The last time Democrats won anything I was looking forward to catching the Grateful Dead in Denver. The year: 1994. Bill Clinton was elected to a second term — but I was too stoned to notice.

Oops — actually it was ’96. Still…this feels momentous.

It’s 3AM on the east coast of America. It’s been hours since Dems were projected victors of the US House. At this hour the Democratic candidates enjoy a 6,000 vote lead in both Virginia & Montana. If these leads hold then the Vice President will have one less job to do in Washington.

His services won’t be needed to break ties in the Senate. So he’ll have more time to go hunting.

Begs the question: Who’s gonna get Shot??

Vote For Your LIFE!!


Let’s familiarize ourselves with the features of the above graph. The vertical boundary represents the amount of energy required for a chemical reaction to complete. The horizontal line represents the amount of time required to drive the same reaction to completion.

The blue line represents an uncatalysed reaction — notice that the so-called ‘activation energy’ is greater than in the red, catylised reaction.

The catylised reaction is deliberately provided chemical energy to drive the reaction to completion more expediently than its uncatalysed counterpart.

In other words:

A piece of salmon splits into its molecular components more readily in the presence of enzymes — digestive catalysts — in the stomach than when left to rot in the sun.

If the salmon were the US electorate, and its molecular components the resultant makeup of the US congress — pending today’s election results — what will be the decisive catalyst?

In the ’00 & ’04 presidential elections, the answer to that question was Election Fraud. Will Republican dirty tricks once again win the day?

There is one sure way to overcome election fraud: Turnout.

Some ado has been made in recent days about the ‘Last Minute Republican Surge’ in the polls. Speculation is that Republican voters have awakened to the Reality that they may lose. So they’ve decided suddenly to run out & vote today.

There may be a little of that. But Republican Fear of a Democrat senate is catalytically trumped, this election day, by Enthusiasm on the part of the rest of us, who would love to see Republicans lose.

In a fair fight that Enthusiasm will soundly whoop the Fear. In an unfair fight, even, enough of the right kind of enthusiasm — translated into an overwhelming turnout of anti-Bush voters — may do the same.

So the question isn’t whether there will be fraud. There will.

The question is: is anti-Bush enthusiasm enough — in a political environment where the Opposing Party gives us little to be enthusiastic for?

Perhaps. Because anti-Bush voters are savvy enough to know that we’re not voting for what Democrats specifically offer; we’re voting for ourselves. For our very lives — and for those of the peaceful inhabitants of Earth.

Last Minute Election Notes

It was the so-called Super Sunday on VT Public TV today. They had debates between gubernatorial and Vermont congressional delegation hopefuls — 4 debates total, all lined up in a row.

Big election on Tuesday, here in the United States. I have mixed feelings about it. Pending the outcome, life could suck rotten eggs. On the other hand it could suck a pig’s dick. And I must choose…because as a citizen in this democracy I am Accountable for what results. Unless I don’t vote.

Then I’ll be at Fault.

I swear sometimes I’m like ‘fuck Democracy!’ We have to do this every two years?? Jeez. Even though I always vote, I understand why 50% of Americans don’t.

Anyone I ever vote for (rare exception: Jim Jeffords in ’00) is bound to be some wet-bag Hosehead who loses. Like John Kerry — boy did I feel dumb rooting him on, only to watch him miserably lose an election a left-over cheese pizza slice could’ve run away with.

Anyone out there ever smoke crack? If you haven’t, don’t. Here’s why:

The shit don’t get you High. It does a little something real fast that vaguely tingles. Then you feel like such a pitiful asshole that you must have more.

And you get a a bigger rush handing over $20 for another rock than you’ll ever get from smoking the wretched thing.

That’s kind of how it feels to avidly participate in our so-called Democracy. You know it’ll suck afterwards but you do it anyway — and once your Hooked you anticipate it. Obsess for it.

‘So who do you think’s gonna win in ’08?’ A friend at the Bar asked me, while we watched Kerry concede on the TV in ’04.

‘I don’t think there’ll be an election in ’08.’ I answered hopelessly.

‘Me neither.’

‘I hope not — I’m done with this Honky Bull!’

I said that. But it’s not true. That’d be like a crack head on his way to their dealer saying ‘I hope he doesn’t have any more — I’m DONE with it!’

You can say it & mean it but it’s a lie and you know it. You want another hit of crack for the same reason I want there to be another presidential election. I think it’ll Help — even though I know better.

That’s why I don’t smoke Crack — unless someone gives it to me for Free. Same goes for Voting — which I’ll do tomorrow. But the day they make me pay $20 for the privilege you can can that shit.


Moreover, the day someone pays me for the privilege — they can have that shit. It’s for sale.

‘So,’ Absinthe Eve asked while we watched the governor’s debate, ‘Who are you going to vote for?’

‘I don’t know.’ I said. None of the candidates impressed me specifically.

Absinthe Eve is from England. She’s lived in the States since she was 11 but has wisely kept her British citizenship & passport — so despite living here two-thirds of her life, she can’t vote.

‘Will you vote for who I want you to vote for?’ She asked.


‘I’ll give you a Morphine!’


Hell yes — for her own good. My friend has never even voted in a US election. The poor girl has lived in this dumb country for 20 years! Isn’t it time she had the pleasure?

‘You want to trade me a morphine for my vote for Vermont Governor??’



Absinthe Eve handed me the pill, then pulled her hand back at the last second.

My jaw dropped. Why would she change her mind?

‘Governor and US Senator!’ She demanded.

‘No can do,’ I replied, ‘Open Container speedWay has endorsed R2D2 for that seat — I’m obligated to vote for him. It’d be Irresponsible of me not to.’

‘No Senate, no morphine.’ She insisted.

‘How ’bout Lieutenant governor?’ I proffered.

‘What the fuck is a Lieutenant Governor??’

‘Never mind,’ I said.

Stupid foriegners.

‘Alright,’ I relented, ‘I give you my US House vote, too.’

Sorry Martha Rainville.

Crush crush.

Toot toot.

If I had a dollar for every year of Galloway’s life I’d be a GAZILLIONARE!

When I read that blog, I was thunderstruck. Personally, I don’t
know how anyone could advocate drinking and driving – not matter the
–My Mom

My mom isn’t alone; most often, the stuff I swear is raw spleen-split hilarity gets me the classic ‘I’m embarrassed for you because that is SO not funny’ stare. I learned many posts ago to go on & delete anything that erupts me into double-hunch gas blasts of laughter. The kind of thing that would rudely startle even the mighty Galloway.

Which ain’t easy. Mainly because Galloway — best new friend I’ve made in years btw — turns a gazillion years old today! Happy gazillionth birthday G! For those who don’t know: Galloway is the Cool Blogger Across The Street. Posted some first-rate Fiction recently. Check it out Big Time.

You see some Shit in a gazillion years. All kinds. So what does it take to startle a gazillion-year-old? A gazillion dollars cash I bet would startle him into a happy-fit tizzy. And I bet my very funniest bits could startle him noxious. If I went on & published them…

Can’t do. Don’t dare.

I don’t aim to offend. It’ll happen though…and when it does the offended party can Fuck Off & never come back. Or preferably leave instructions in the comment box for me to do the same…

Huh. Tell someone to zark off from their own blog — now that’d be an Act of Class.

‘You heard that right there blog-boy! Why don’t you do the world a favor & just DELETE this lousy online crap-sack??’
That’s Free Speech for ya, umK? Reader Beware!

But I never wanted to offend my poor mother. Which, I point out, is precisely Why my blog’s url was kept mercifully secret from her.

Well she found it in her own sneaky way — and I realized: if my Mom wants to hang around this crappy joint that’s cooler than SuperCool with me.

So I sent her this email to Clarify my stance of unabashed support re: drunk driving.

Mom — the drinking & driving skits are a Joke.

In 2003 there were 50,000 handgun deaths in America. But only 30,000 drunk driving related fatalities. At cursory glance the evidence suggests handguns are more dangerous than drunks behind the wheel.

Yet the gunslingers have a powerful mega-lobby which deliberately misconstrues the 2nd Amendment; we have local militias armed to the teeth already; as per their constitutional guarantee. Unfortunately they’re all in Iraq — sucks for us when Shit Happens (sunken cities etc) and we need them.

But that’s another story. The point here is if the gunslingers are so well represented well hadn’t the drunks oughta be too?

Now I’m no constitutional scholar. Just another smart-ass American with a loose interpretation of the Equal Protection clause — and a sui generis Zeal for my own damn Freedom of Speech.

I propose we turn more drunks loose to run wild on the road. I know you disagree. Yeah — well I say Get With the Program! Oppose drunk driving?? Mom — that’s just so o pre 9-11.

Think about it: odds are eventually one will collide with a terrorist on their way to car-bomb a Sunday School.


Support Your Local Drunk Driver I Say!!

It’s the least we can do for the Children.

Meanwhile…anti drunk driving laws are no better than a blatant rip off. A cash cow for cops. Who have if not personal then surely an institutionally vested interest in keeping drunks on the road. Shit — repeat offenders are where the Big Money is!

Hope this clears things up a bit.

Sugar Bombs TNT & Scooby Snacks


Think I’ll wrap this lil’ Office of National Drug Control lambaste we’ve had here up by takin ya’ll Back.

How far back?

Way the fuck back.

I’m talking cartoons on Saturday morning. Wonder Twin powers. Sugar Bomb cereal & make-believe Scooby Snacks.

Back to the early 80’s Gateway Drug dayz.

Sugar is the Gateway Drug. In my case the Gateway to Ritalin. Next thing you knew I got a mailbox on my bumper & a stolen front tire. Traded those heapin bowls of imitation processed Sugar Bomb breakfast food-style substitute in for a for a real nice psychiatrist who prescribes me my Adderall.

So there I was one Saturday with a head full of sugar & animated TNT and suddenly the TV-add wanker squawks off about the evils of fried eggs.

DUDE!! But that’s like…I mean actual breakfast!

*Mike E says Say WHAT!?*

I could go on and on but think I’ll just let the TV-add douche eater squack for himself.

So here it is ~~~ Hang on to your Open Containers there kiddoz ~~~ The first shot fired in the War on Drugs. The cracked egg heard ’round the World! Let’s make some NOIZE people for your BRAIN-ON ->drugz!!!


View on Add to WordPress Blog

WHEW! Gives me a hankerin for a cold can of Mountain Dew.

Know what: I say bring back the Drug War!

Know why?

Cause it was hallucinated oodles more fun than the War On Terror and we were winning.

Wow. If I could convert blog-posts like this into their smokable form I could bag it up & sell ’em. This is the best fun I’ve ever had writing.

Thanks in no freaking small part to you folks down there on Planet Earth who hang around this crappy joint with me. Who incidentally are, by my good estimate, a handful of the best & most exciting up&coming writers in the Cosmos.

You kids are a genuine spectacle. And so good to me!

I just remembered something: why I ever stayed awake for so long to begin with. Wasn’t because I had nowhere to sleep. Nope — I plain didn’t fuckin Wanna! What if I missed something shazammin?

Dig: I like the Feeling!!

So I’m off with it. groove:On. Do me a favor ya’ll: drive fast Stay Strange & swing yourselfs loose with a chuckle.

ps To the Googler who wanted to know: do they check for shrooms in drug screen…  Nope. Hot damn! They sure don’t.

See ya on Pluto fellow traveller dude!

Return of First-rate Reportage from Iraq.

To the all dear colleagues and readers who have never stopped inquiring about reason behind the halt in publishing and wanted to make sure that I was safe and fine, I like to thank you all and voice to you my great appreciation.

It is really a big impulse to me to keep writing because within this period of time that I have stopped, I could evaluate my blog and whether it has its own readers or not.

I do not want to bother you with the reasons behind the stoppage in publishing and honestly they were out of my hand but I promise you here that I will start writing again soon and I have alot of stories to tell you about from Iraq and outside of Iraq.

thank you all again