Friday, May 30, 2008


Is my dream really a dream or does it just seem to be? Is it a glimpse into the future of my reality? Is it an affliction of the mind creating believable fiction or doubted fact?

Is it exactly the sum of what is to come or a surrealistic interpretation of a vision that escaped the prison of my overactive brain trying to explain the truth of what is to be? Is it a message from my soul shouting to me silently, desperately warning me to anticipate the fate that awaits?

"To thine own self be true," the Great Bard once said. I read his script and know he said it. I give him credit for opening my eyes and helping me realize how wise was he. How could William Shakespeare know, hundreds of years ago, what troubles me in this, the twenty-first century?

Was this dictation to my doubting soul a visitation from my ancient past alerting me of the fate that impatiently awaits the dawn of my too soon tomorrow? Will I leave behind my body but not my soul or mind for a new kind of reality more real than this reality could ever be?

Eventually, will I be a reincarnation interpretation of another me with a renewed opportunity to repent in my future the sins of my present that will then become my past?

How long will my past last? How many lifetimes lie ahead for me? I will just have to wait and see.

Thursday, May 29, 2008


Some clocks tick and some clocks tock and some do both or none at all. Some clocks depend on electricity to guarantee accuracy and just buzz or humm to let you know their time has come.

Some clocks ring or ding-a-ling to do their thing and mean no harm when they sound their alarm. These clocks have hands to obey commands, but have no arms or elbows. eyes or nose. none of these, none of those or hair that grows everywhere.

Big Ben bongs and gongs the whole day long and it is seldom wrong, it's reckoned, for more than a second. It lives high in the London Tower filling every hour watching flowers grow, cars come and go, lovers strolling to and fro and winds that blow sleet and snow---the picture show of humanity in all its vanity. Inanity, insanity and its capacity for nasty mendacity in the not so ittπy-bitty beautiful British city.

So synchronize your clocks and wash your dirty socks. You've got time. The grime must go. On with the picture show!


"Damn you, damn you, sham of a man! Because of AWOL cowards like you and Cheney, too, we had to scram, to take it on the lam from Viet Nam. Your yackity-yack started a war in Iraq where there's no turning back. Now, if you can, you'll stoop to sending troops to Iran.

Why do you do what you do-do when you know the world soon will be done with you after what you put us through, killing GIs and Iraqis, too?

There will be no relief from the grief your war fomented, a war where thousands were tormented, a war that could have been prevented, a war unjustified; You lied and knew that well. That is why you, a born again killer of men, will roast and turn to toast in hell.

In the eyes of God, you, George Walker Bush, are a pathetic fraud.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008


Democrats and Republicans can be Two of a Kind when what dominates their active minds is their determination to be candidates for president. And in this season of debates nothing gets you elected or ejected faster than an unexpected disaster.

Hillary Clinton and Mike Huckabee, separated only by party affiliations, both wannabe candidates for in '08. As of now, I believe there's no way either could become contenders unless disaster becomes the master of their candidate fate, unless disaster sidelines the menmbers in the driver's seat nothing could make this happen faster than sudden disaster.

Hillary and Huckabee are holding to the possibility that he or she will take the place of the presumptives if happenstance or circumstance forces either to bow out in disgrace, creating space in the race for the Dem and the GOP wannabes, Could that be? Yessiree!

Hillary made the observation about the assassination of RFK, inferring the same thing could happen to Obama. It's rumored Hill and Bill privately discussed this possibility. If it happened it would give the candidacy to Hilllary. How conniving can politicians be?

Huckabee, in an address to the National Rife Association, made a bad taste remark about somebody aiming a gun at Barack. That crack just wasn't cricket and will probably dash Huck;s chances on the Republican ticket.

Both wanabes have been waiting in the wings for something to turn the tide. John McCaine's age and health may rule him out. Huckabee, until this disgrace, was the leading contender to take his place. Obama's way ahead in the delegate vote which relegates Hillary to the wait-and-see runner up behind O. B. who has all but won the candidacy. Will her insensitivity kill her chances politically? Could be.

It's mistakes like these that make or break contestants in a race for president. Certainly no insult was meant. Bu the result of a momentary slip of the lip can end a trip to the seat of power in the Ivory Tower of D. C. Both hopefuls should ride it out and leave no doubt they meant no harm by what they expressed in moments of stress. And that when the campaign's through they'll still be true to their party and their constituency.

Sunday, May 25, 2008


Some resent the extent to which we go to know who we should love or hate or just tolerate and nominate for president. To most, the long-running events are a welcome source of entertainment, and enlightenment about what was said and what was meant in debates in various states in stately halls all across the USA.

The orchestrated debates provide a stage for wannabes to accuse, abuse and rage against the others who also choose to compete for the Oval Office seat. They all try to convince the viewers watching on the on the TV screen or at the scene. to vote their way on Election Day.

The speakers usually refuse to admit exactly what they're for and how they'll manage the D. C. store if they're elected or selected as the case may be. But they all appreciate the cost-free opportunity to go through the political machinations the nation demands in preparation for the Big Event.

Those competing for the prize speak at meetings, greeting, repeating the same rhetoric schtick. They kiss lots of babies and old ladies, eat all sorts of food and sometimes have to take a break to recover from campaign pain in the belly ache and other places we have no intension to mention.

Monday, May 19, 2008


Voters have limited party loyalties and short and fickle memories. Compassion is out of fashion. When the economy's hot shoppers buy a lot. The more the buyer buys the higher prices rise and this defies the law of supply and demand, better known as what ever the traffic will bear there the gougers go.

Ultimately it's bye-bye buyer until lack of consumer desire is followed by a rumor that inflation's coming back. We better pay more now before prices soar somehow and we'll be out of dough and when costs again are low we won't have the nickels and the dimes to benefit from the good times that bad times bring.

The question's this: do we sell short support for the Party of the Same and cast our lot with those who promise change what ever that will be will be? It's all the same old game of winners-losers, beggars can't be choosers. In the end we'll all go broke. The economy's just one big joke!

Sunday, May 18, 2008


Tom Cat caught a rat and was about to take a bite when the rodent cried out in fright;

"Please, Mr Cat, I beseech thee, don't eat me! If you were I and I were you what would I do? I'd wonder, do you have a family that would grieve if you should leave your wife and kids to satisfy my appetite? If you I ate I would create great sorrow when your family awoke tomorrow and you were not there. It's unfair that cats, to sate their greed, feed on rats."

Tom Cat thought about the rat's plea. He decided to set the rodent free. As Tom let his prey get away it said to him, "Have a nice day."

Tom Cat went home, his conscience clear. He'd granted the rat its wish. He went to his dinner dish, in the mood for people food. He had a lick of milk, a bite of cheese, a bit of meat, some delicacies. Tom felt great as he ate. The gourmet meal, made him sated and satisfied. And he felt a deep pride inside, It was fine being a benign feline.

Tom Cat never ate another rat.

Friday, May 16, 2008


I do not deny That I lie and so do you and we and they day after day. So do politicians with ambitions, lawyers writing depositions, physicians diagnosing critical conditions, preachers on holy missions, editors on deadline editions, salesmen faking false commissions, braggers hiding inhibitions.

Also stock brokers making sappy snap decisions, muricians creating off-key renditions, voters and promoters circulating petitions and protesting unconscionable conditions, teenagers seeking parental permissioins, dcision makers acting on their own violations.

Once in a while, it could be the fate of those who prevaricate and state what won't hold weight with rhe magistrate will get burned. Court adjourned!

Monday, May 12, 2008


Angels cry. Why? Who can tell? Are they daughters of God, Agents of hell? The howling Wind Wolves know. In the beginning God was sinning. Waters poured down to cleanse tainted souls.

Rage and Fury, judge and jury, lost control. Their goal: Earth, a diminished planet of unfinished worth hastily designed by God out of His mind. Too large, too soon. Who needed another moon?

Winds breathe deep, blew tears flow down, throats of a sleeping town. Thousands drowned. Devil roars with laughter. He knew what would come after. Bodies floating in the sea. Sharks on a gorging spree. All the fish had their fill. Was it God's will?

The Winds of Time continued to blow. Angel tears flowed down, covered a sleeping, weeping town. Thousands drowned. The devil roared with laughhtr. He knew what would come after. Waves of waves slashed brutally. Cannonballs of mud rolled in. Flood survivors were buried alive in sucking mud; a cadavery conglomeration of creation joined the mix: houses, homes and cars, cigars, cans and candy bars, news of wars in late editions, petitions, submissions religious missions and traditions, exhibitions, climate conditions, premonitions. Baseball scores, sales galore, dollar bill, cheap thrills. Flyers, buyers, prices higher, no fires, world's too wet. How bad can it get?

We, the, living dead, live lives in dread, in bed, on crutches and canes, addled brains, some insane. Monkeys, donkeys, gnus, kangaroos, preposterous hippopotamus and rhinoceros, ants and elephants, apes both men and women simians, rats, cats and hanging bats, acrobats and aristocrats, mountain goats sought higher ground, drowned in world turned upside down, inside out, round about, trees stand on their heads, roots wave bye-bye to sky. Where are birds who used to fly?

Millions dead. Blood runs red. Who once slept in that bed? There floats a baby. Where's the crib? Vans. Sedans. Garbage cans. Pots and pans. Electric fans. Toasters, Roasters, Knives and forks, Bottle corks. Watches, clocks, no tick-jocks, Lots of locks, no keys on chains, no crutches, canes, computer brains. Mish-mash worthless trash bought with stolen credit card.

Yards with swings and children things, outdoor bar-b-cues. running shoes, undrunk booze, greed, need and chicken-feed, garden seed and pesky weeds, the evening news, Who Aint Who Who, here's where Red, White Blue once flew, flowers grew, apples, oranges, onions, too.Where kids rode bikes. little tykes learned to walk and talk, cats stalked rats, kids wore baseball caps, slept on laps beneath the moon on warm nights in June.

It's all gone. Survivors fear the dawn. All that's left, a once green lawn turned brown. Rubbled buildings down, downtown a house once a home complete with built-in baby sitter. No place to count sheep, fall asleep, no joyful laughs of girls and boys, no simple joys. No Christmas toys. More sorrow tomorrow.

What's that rumble? What's that roar? What's that shaking for? Could it be? A quake? How much more can we take? For God's sake. Gimme a break!

Thursday, May 08, 2008


Voters, strain your brain, stop and think, don't leave your mind behind, pull your earlobe, probe your globe, scratch your noggin, remember all you read when you went bloggin. Think about the candidate you hate, then cast your bait that states who rates on the slate and hope he/she will do what you want them to,

Are you weary of theory, who will win, who will lose? Who foxed-up the nightly news? Who wears size thirteen running shoes? To what extent will the next president serve the masses and the upper-class horse's asses? Will he pander to the rich and bury the poor in a six foot ditch?

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Monday, May 05, 2008


Sen. John McCain---whose name rhymes with "pain"---must explain his view on torture before voters can decide whether he should reside in the White House for four more Bush-like years.

McCain, while a prisoner of war in Viet Nam claims he underwent pain and torture during the years he spent at the Hanoi Hilton, After he got out, based on his wartime hero persona, he was elected a senator from the state of Arizona. Now he's a presumptive wannabe candidate for president.

So, come on John, tell us how could you, a victim of torture and torment, have voted to uphold the Bush veto of a bill that would have made this painful punishment a crime?

It seems your years of experience in a wartime prison did not influence your decision. How much pain would you have to endure, Senator McCain, to make sure torture was not your cup of tea? It seems to me, we don't want a Bush clone to own the key to the White House who supports this archaic way to convince prisoners to cooperate with the enemy. Do we want another GOP president who will do whatever Dubya tells him to?

The reputation of our nation, thanks to the worst American president in all creation, will never recover as long as there's a Dubya double at the helm of our sinking Ship of State. So, Big John, let us know, do you still defend the Bush veto? Do you still back his misadventure in Iraq? Is a war with Iran in your secret presidential plan?

Saturday, May 03, 2008


After eight long and torturous years of sweat and tears and terrorist fears the Great White Dope, the man who couldn't cope and didn't care, who lied and cheated every way and nearly destroyed the USA, will soon be gone and we will carry on to undo the war he got us into. He wore our flag on his lapel and told democracy to go to hell.

Will the one who replaces the Dope become the Great White/Black/all races Hope, who will reach out to all America and lands from sea to sea? Will He/She be profound and sound with both feet on the ground and eyes upon a new horizon where all are treated equally? Will He/She be the Great Hope to all, the big and small, the short and tall, the weak and strong, the right who are sometimes wrong, the poor and those with wherewithal. The up, the down, the ins, the outs, the ones with clout, who will help our nation again stand tall?

The Great Hope's ancestors may have sailed from distant shores to Plymouth Rock, born of different stock, spoke different tongues, were old, were young or in-between, came in chains as slaves and freed by war but fought for equality as they refused to ride in the back of the bus just because they were black, not white like us.

All who came were here to stay as pioneers in the USA where they could pray and earn their pay and live the way they wanted to. Some fought and died for the Red, White and Blue, others rose to wealth and fame and great acclaim.

Today we have a man of destiny campaigning for the presidency. He could be the Great Hope of all who dream of living free. The Great Hope for nation we all revere may already be here to lead us for at least the next four years.

His name is Barack Obama and he is black. We must not turn our back on this man of destiny! Give him a chance to prove that he will be the Great Hope of all humanity.