I'm a terrible poet. I know it. But I try. I like all different forms of expression. Sometimes these creations are good other times they're pretty bad. Whatever. It doesn't really matter. I do it for me and I hope you like it but you don't have to. An artist can't aim to please anyone but himself. Maybe that's why so many of us are starvin'.
My Baby
Everybody always wants to be mean to my baby
Can’t they see she’s the epitome of a lady
But the people they say she’s actin’ kinda shady
She flirts with all the boys and don’t wanna be my baby
Can’t Stand
Can’t stand what it is you’ve done to me
Don’t know if I can live with how you’ve hurt me
Wouldn’t want you if I had the chance again
Just wait and you’ll get what you deserve in the end
Hope you can’t sleep at night but I know you don’t care
But I hurt every time that I breathe the air
I died from the pain you’ve put me through
Now I can’t tell what’s lies or true
Can’t stand what it is you’ve done to me
Won’t be here when you decide you want me
Can’t stand on my own two feet anymore
You’ve tossed me around like your ragdoll whore
Can’t stand that I was dumb enough to fall for you
I’m through doin’ time in hell for you
Summer’s Season
Flyin’ away through the trees
Half a world away from the next freeze
Free now to enjoy the summer breeze
Swingin’ from the branches with carefree ease
Down to the creek to ring out a few fleas
Splashin’ down into the cool river
Water’s so cold, sets my bones to shiver
Fish race away like a shot after a trigger
The world is too kind a gift giver
Offerin’ freedom, so she’s not one to hinder
Sun comes down time to go home
Tomorrow offers another chance to roam
Never should man be kept under a glass dome
Summer’s season invites play only where sun has shone
When Winter’s come I’ll want to be wherever Summer’s gone
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Oliver Dunn: Black and White
This is a story about a character I created named Oliver Dunn. He's kind of a harsh, gruff old lawman. He's seen the world I created for my book change into something stranger. He's seen this group of misfits slowly become so commonplace that it blurs the lines between black and white. He plays a very minor role in my book but will be a bit more prominent in later stories. I think he's a decent enough creation to have his own books but we'll see. Hope you enjoy!
Everybody always talks about “the good ol’ days”, the days when things made sense and it didn’t feel like the end of the world was next week. But things have always felt like that. Captain Oliver Dunn’s daddy had told him that, years ago.
As the Captain sits in an El Paso park puffing on a cigar and reading a newspaper article titled “The Good Ol’ Days” by some right-wing Christian jackass. The article discusses a popular belief that a particular group of people are destroying America. It says that the world would be better off if these savages would go back from wherever they came. It pisses Oliver off that people still go through the same mess they did fifty years ago and fifty years before that and fifty years before that. It seems like the world will never escape those damned “good ol’ days” where some damned group is being persecuted whether it’s the natives, blacks, Jews, women, or now the “Enhanced Americans”.
Ol’ Captain Ollie is past his prime now. He’s been handed down his father’s wisdom, wrinkles, and graying hair. He hasn’t had an easy life nor has it gotten much easier with his fame and wealth. Since becoming the first unenhanced human to defeat a super-powered “savage”, as they used to call them and sometimes still do, Oliver has made the Dunn name very popular. He’s become something of a folk hero. The pictures of his first David versus Goliath type battle launched his career into something he wasn’t ready for. In the years that have passed he’s led a small army against the monsters, mutations, and science experiments gone awry and grown into his leadership role.
When Ollie thinks back to “the good ol’ days” he remembers running scared from blob men or being cut by bone spikes or trying not to get his head crushed in giant purple hands. “The good ol’ days” weren’t so nice for him. He’s lost a lot of friends over a lot of years. He’s fought a lot of battles that never did much to make the world any safer. He’d stop a fire-breathing dragon-woman and a couple of giant robots would show up. He’d beat them and something else would come up either trying to force its power on the world or get the world to make peace with it.
That was the hardest part of the job, convincing the public that the former janitor that’s now a giant yellow lizard person with a rocket launcher strapped to his arm doesn’t want to harm anyone. As ridiculous as it may sound a lot of those people that Captain Dunn had to handle were just misunderstood. They were just victims that had been kidnapped in the night, taken to some secret lab where experiments were conducted on them and then they were sent back into the world to wreak havoc. Even the career criminals that agreed to undergo these transformations didn’t know if they’d work out okay or not. Even the best people would snap if they had a fairly normal life and then one day they were slobbering “savages”.
Now everybody’s life is a bit crazier. When the Captain was a boy people were still people. They went to school, they had jobs, they committed crimes, and were arrested by officers, like Sergeant Howard Dunn of El Paso, for it. The definition of “people” is a bit looser now. In the years that Captain Oliver Dunn of the United States Rangers has been working in law enforcement the number of super-powered people has risen to include a quarter of the world’s population. He’s been fighting a losing battle to stop the production of these beings but someone, somewhere, often outside of his jurisdiction, keeps manufacturing new and more advanced super-people.
In his early days he got by on luck. Much like in the special effects of early movies important wires or machinery was visible and the creations weren’t that great anyway. The technology has gotten more and more advanced. There used to be hope of reversing what had been done to these people but oftentimes this is no longer the case.
Captain Dunn’s mission has changed. Instead of stopping these things from coming into existence the government has charged him with creating peace in a society that has an abundance of these creations and stopping those that would abuse their abilities to terrorize citizens. Captain Dunn has found that an unspoken challenge to the job is the society itself. Often small minded citizens find themselves afraid of these peaceful, although possibly dangerous, super-powered individuals. Dunn has to integrate these reborn citizens into a society that hates and fears them. No one wants a robot with laser eyes living next door to them even if this particular robot used to be a third grade teacher named Eleanor Kline with no prior arrest record.
Oliver’s reflection in El Paso is cut short as he hears shouting behind him. A group of young boys are obviously picking on another boy. Ollie folds his paper and sucks the last bit of smoke out of his cigar before he puts it out and trashes it. He adjusts his cowboy hat and his knee pops as he begins walking towards the scuffle.
“You boys got a problem here?” Oliver speaks with the weight and authority of a man that’s stared down men with the ability to end his life a dozen times over. It’s the only way he knows how to speak anymore.
The boys stop what their doing and stretch their circle to reveal the beaten boy they’d been picking on. The boy, instantly recognizable even if you’d only seen him once, tries to stand but his arms are too weak for that now. Blood runs from the boy’s face and fattened lips. His clothes are tattered and dirty but not because of the beating.
Captain Dunn knows the boys last name is Walker, he could never forget his first. Walker inherited his father’s purple skin and black eyes but not his strength. “My name’s Captain Oliver Dunn.” The boy takes the captain’s out stretched hand.
The captain helps the boy to his feet. “I’m uh I’m J-Jon Walker.”
“You know I had a scuffle or two some years back with a Henry Walker. You wouldn’t happen to be any relation to him at all would you, Jon?” Oliver asks already knowing the answer.
“Y-Yes, Sir. You aren’t gonna ugh” Jon cringes in pain for a second, “arrest me now are you?”
Oliver chuckles lightly “Heh, I ain’t arresting you unless you done somethin’ wrong. Now, what I do consider wrong is gangin’ up on a boy and beatin’ him like these damned fools did here.” Oliver speaks a loud and clear truth, “What the hell were you boys thinkin’? How can you treat someone like this?”
That doesn’t sit well with one of the boys who picks up a few rocks and chunks them at the pair. Dunn is hit across his brow and again in the shoulder. The other boys pick up rocks and follow the boy’s lead. Oliver wishes he could draw his gun on ‘em and make things easier for himself. Jon does.
Jon slams his fist down on the ground and concentrates. He shouts as his body begins to bubble like boiling water. The boys stop throwing rocks as Jon grows several sizes larger.
“He is a freak!” one boy shouts. The stoning resumes.
Jon shouts in frustration. “AAAARRGH!!!” His arms swing wildly knocking over his classmates. Joe Forrester with his red hair and buck teeth, Ben “Bean Pole” Stowe, Jorge Mendoza the son without a father all go down in the first swing. Just as many go down in the second. Jon grabs the ring leader of the bunch by his leg and hold him upside down.
The kid doesn’t learn. He throws his last stone at the giant, purple, Jon. It hits Jon square in the eye, only making him angrier. He growls and lifts the boy higher ready to slam him into the pavement.
“Jon!!!” Captain Dunn stands between the little hate monger and his paved doom.
Jon stops.
“It’s okay, Jon. It’s okay to be pissed at that little piece of trash. He hit me too. I gotta gun and I coulda pulled it…but I didn’t. I’ll make sure these boys get in as much trouble as they can. But I can’t let you kill. You kill, I gotta take you down too. You gotta choice in how you wanna deal with him.”
Jon’s almost all instinct now. He’s shaking he’s so angry. No one could blame him. He was walking home from school. Happy to be alive since he found out that Jessica Gonzalez actually wants to go see a movie with him this weekend on a real date. He knew there might be repercussions in the form of whispers or words. He hadn’t expected his classmates to actually follow him home. He hadn’t expected them to fight him. He hadn’t expected them to call him a “savage” or say that the girl he’d spent most of the school year pining over was just some “gutter trash slut”. More so than anything else it was the revelation that the boys he’d called his friends felt that way about him. They thought he was a monster. They didn’t consider Jon to be a human. Now here Jon was proving them right with strength he’d kept hidden so he’d never be used like his father was. Jon’s hate and hurt were using his strength now.
Jon lowered the whimpering boy into Oliver’s hands. The captain laid the boy onto the street. Jon’s strength seemingly evaporated into nothing. The transformation back into his scrawny purple self was much less violent and took much less effort. Jon cried and wrapped his arms around Captain Dunn. “Shh shh, it’s okay, big guy. It’s all okay now. It’s all over.” They watched the boys run away. Oliver looked down and young Jon cried into his chest.
As more rocks hit Oliver and Jon they both realized that Captain Dunn was a liar.
Everybody always talks about “the good ol’ days”, the days when things made sense and it didn’t feel like the end of the world was next week. But things have always felt like that. Captain Oliver Dunn’s daddy had told him that, years ago.
As the Captain sits in an El Paso park puffing on a cigar and reading a newspaper article titled “The Good Ol’ Days” by some right-wing Christian jackass. The article discusses a popular belief that a particular group of people are destroying America. It says that the world would be better off if these savages would go back from wherever they came. It pisses Oliver off that people still go through the same mess they did fifty years ago and fifty years before that and fifty years before that. It seems like the world will never escape those damned “good ol’ days” where some damned group is being persecuted whether it’s the natives, blacks, Jews, women, or now the “Enhanced Americans”.
Ol’ Captain Ollie is past his prime now. He’s been handed down his father’s wisdom, wrinkles, and graying hair. He hasn’t had an easy life nor has it gotten much easier with his fame and wealth. Since becoming the first unenhanced human to defeat a super-powered “savage”, as they used to call them and sometimes still do, Oliver has made the Dunn name very popular. He’s become something of a folk hero. The pictures of his first David versus Goliath type battle launched his career into something he wasn’t ready for. In the years that have passed he’s led a small army against the monsters, mutations, and science experiments gone awry and grown into his leadership role.
When Ollie thinks back to “the good ol’ days” he remembers running scared from blob men or being cut by bone spikes or trying not to get his head crushed in giant purple hands. “The good ol’ days” weren’t so nice for him. He’s lost a lot of friends over a lot of years. He’s fought a lot of battles that never did much to make the world any safer. He’d stop a fire-breathing dragon-woman and a couple of giant robots would show up. He’d beat them and something else would come up either trying to force its power on the world or get the world to make peace with it.
That was the hardest part of the job, convincing the public that the former janitor that’s now a giant yellow lizard person with a rocket launcher strapped to his arm doesn’t want to harm anyone. As ridiculous as it may sound a lot of those people that Captain Dunn had to handle were just misunderstood. They were just victims that had been kidnapped in the night, taken to some secret lab where experiments were conducted on them and then they were sent back into the world to wreak havoc. Even the career criminals that agreed to undergo these transformations didn’t know if they’d work out okay or not. Even the best people would snap if they had a fairly normal life and then one day they were slobbering “savages”.
Now everybody’s life is a bit crazier. When the Captain was a boy people were still people. They went to school, they had jobs, they committed crimes, and were arrested by officers, like Sergeant Howard Dunn of El Paso, for it. The definition of “people” is a bit looser now. In the years that Captain Oliver Dunn of the United States Rangers has been working in law enforcement the number of super-powered people has risen to include a quarter of the world’s population. He’s been fighting a losing battle to stop the production of these beings but someone, somewhere, often outside of his jurisdiction, keeps manufacturing new and more advanced super-people.
In his early days he got by on luck. Much like in the special effects of early movies important wires or machinery was visible and the creations weren’t that great anyway. The technology has gotten more and more advanced. There used to be hope of reversing what had been done to these people but oftentimes this is no longer the case.
Captain Dunn’s mission has changed. Instead of stopping these things from coming into existence the government has charged him with creating peace in a society that has an abundance of these creations and stopping those that would abuse their abilities to terrorize citizens. Captain Dunn has found that an unspoken challenge to the job is the society itself. Often small minded citizens find themselves afraid of these peaceful, although possibly dangerous, super-powered individuals. Dunn has to integrate these reborn citizens into a society that hates and fears them. No one wants a robot with laser eyes living next door to them even if this particular robot used to be a third grade teacher named Eleanor Kline with no prior arrest record.
Oliver’s reflection in El Paso is cut short as he hears shouting behind him. A group of young boys are obviously picking on another boy. Ollie folds his paper and sucks the last bit of smoke out of his cigar before he puts it out and trashes it. He adjusts his cowboy hat and his knee pops as he begins walking towards the scuffle.
“You boys got a problem here?” Oliver speaks with the weight and authority of a man that’s stared down men with the ability to end his life a dozen times over. It’s the only way he knows how to speak anymore.
The boys stop what their doing and stretch their circle to reveal the beaten boy they’d been picking on. The boy, instantly recognizable even if you’d only seen him once, tries to stand but his arms are too weak for that now. Blood runs from the boy’s face and fattened lips. His clothes are tattered and dirty but not because of the beating.
Captain Dunn knows the boys last name is Walker, he could never forget his first. Walker inherited his father’s purple skin and black eyes but not his strength. “My name’s Captain Oliver Dunn.” The boy takes the captain’s out stretched hand.
The captain helps the boy to his feet. “I’m uh I’m J-Jon Walker.”
“You know I had a scuffle or two some years back with a Henry Walker. You wouldn’t happen to be any relation to him at all would you, Jon?” Oliver asks already knowing the answer.
“Y-Yes, Sir. You aren’t gonna ugh” Jon cringes in pain for a second, “arrest me now are you?”
Oliver chuckles lightly “Heh, I ain’t arresting you unless you done somethin’ wrong. Now, what I do consider wrong is gangin’ up on a boy and beatin’ him like these damned fools did here.” Oliver speaks a loud and clear truth, “What the hell were you boys thinkin’? How can you treat someone like this?”
That doesn’t sit well with one of the boys who picks up a few rocks and chunks them at the pair. Dunn is hit across his brow and again in the shoulder. The other boys pick up rocks and follow the boy’s lead. Oliver wishes he could draw his gun on ‘em and make things easier for himself. Jon does.
Jon slams his fist down on the ground and concentrates. He shouts as his body begins to bubble like boiling water. The boys stop throwing rocks as Jon grows several sizes larger.
“He is a freak!” one boy shouts. The stoning resumes.
Jon shouts in frustration. “AAAARRGH!!!” His arms swing wildly knocking over his classmates. Joe Forrester with his red hair and buck teeth, Ben “Bean Pole” Stowe, Jorge Mendoza the son without a father all go down in the first swing. Just as many go down in the second. Jon grabs the ring leader of the bunch by his leg and hold him upside down.
The kid doesn’t learn. He throws his last stone at the giant, purple, Jon. It hits Jon square in the eye, only making him angrier. He growls and lifts the boy higher ready to slam him into the pavement.
“Jon!!!” Captain Dunn stands between the little hate monger and his paved doom.
Jon stops.
“It’s okay, Jon. It’s okay to be pissed at that little piece of trash. He hit me too. I gotta gun and I coulda pulled it…but I didn’t. I’ll make sure these boys get in as much trouble as they can. But I can’t let you kill. You kill, I gotta take you down too. You gotta choice in how you wanna deal with him.”
Jon’s almost all instinct now. He’s shaking he’s so angry. No one could blame him. He was walking home from school. Happy to be alive since he found out that Jessica Gonzalez actually wants to go see a movie with him this weekend on a real date. He knew there might be repercussions in the form of whispers or words. He hadn’t expected his classmates to actually follow him home. He hadn’t expected them to fight him. He hadn’t expected them to call him a “savage” or say that the girl he’d spent most of the school year pining over was just some “gutter trash slut”. More so than anything else it was the revelation that the boys he’d called his friends felt that way about him. They thought he was a monster. They didn’t consider Jon to be a human. Now here Jon was proving them right with strength he’d kept hidden so he’d never be used like his father was. Jon’s hate and hurt were using his strength now.
Jon lowered the whimpering boy into Oliver’s hands. The captain laid the boy onto the street. Jon’s strength seemingly evaporated into nothing. The transformation back into his scrawny purple self was much less violent and took much less effort. Jon cried and wrapped his arms around Captain Dunn. “Shh shh, it’s okay, big guy. It’s all okay now. It’s all over.” They watched the boys run away. Oliver looked down and young Jon cried into his chest.
As more rocks hit Oliver and Jon they both realized that Captain Dunn was a liar.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Vacation
Greetin's True Believers, Devil Readers, Southern Sayers, and other miscellaneous vagabonds,
I'm headin' out for vacation this Friday. Goin' to Costa Rica for my best friend's weddin'. Gonna be out for two weeks, chasin' monkeys, playin' on a beach, workin' on projects for you guys (against the advice of my darlin' June).
I'm not one to sit still and I'm excited about havin' time to focus on this particular project. I have a great idea I think but it still needs a plot. Sounds like it should practically write itself and while it seems to be, it's got no direction. I won't say more than that 'cause I'd hate to disappoint.
I'm headin' out for vacation this Friday. Goin' to Costa Rica for my best friend's weddin'. Gonna be out for two weeks, chasin' monkeys, playin' on a beach, workin' on projects for you guys (against the advice of my darlin' June).
I'm not one to sit still and I'm excited about havin' time to focus on this particular project. I have a great idea I think but it still needs a plot. Sounds like it should practically write itself and while it seems to be, it's got no direction. I won't say more than that 'cause I'd hate to disappoint.
While I'm gone I'm gonna leave you guys and gals with a few things I've already written. Hope you enjoy 'em. I'll tell you all about the trip when I get back. Hopefully, I'll have lots more new stuff to share with you guys when I get back too.
Now, I'm off to figure out the best way to sneak a monkey into the country...
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The Dream
Recently, these Teapartiers have been makin' some headway in the political world. Two years ago they were unheard of and as people have been becomin' more and more disatisfied with the two party system they've steadily been gainin' a foot hold politically. There's a big market out there, I figure, if you can sell a newer, brighter, American dream.
The Teaparty itself seems to be very into a limited government and having people to check-up on them. Doesn't seem too bad. I don't want the government involved in every aspect of my life. And workin' for a small business I can tell you that it's a bitch when the IRS says you owe them money. Because regardless of whether you do or not, you owe them money.
They do want to simplify the tax system which I think would be good. It's not terribly complex now, or at least the small business taxes and my personal taxes aren't. But then I don't have kids or a house or a charity. But if you know what the percentages are for FICA, Medicare, etc. are and how to figure the math on those and just who to pay these taxes to it's not the most complicated thing in the world. Though it's by far the easiest. I know we get lots of refunds and letters sayin' we owe money throughout the year so maybe the IRS is even a bit confused about how it all works.
They also demand a balanced federal budget. This sounds good too. One should never spend more money than you make. But then I guess VISA, Amex, and the government think that a couple centuries in debt isn't that bad.
All that sounds really nice. I mean having all these independents getting organized to overthrow the tyranny of the Republicans and Democrats. Getting new blooded, movers and shakers in offices to completely change things would be a great idea.
But is that what's actually goin' on? If you look at the guys winnin' these elections they all come up as Republican. They aren't the incumbents. They tend to be ultra-conservative, younger, Republicans. I wouldn't say that younger guarantees different or better. It does seem that the Tea party is not a new breed so much as a new brand of Republican. It's the same old stuff in a brand new package.
Maybe that's enough for some. You promise them a dream of lower taxes and less government interference and I'm sure people will sign on. Obama promised a new America, a changed America. While I believe he's tried to do that I can't say that he's delivered. Same as no politician before him has delivered.
I dunno that you've heard the rumor, but politicians lie. Shockin', I know. They lie. Sometimes it's a promise they have no intention of keeping from the start. Sometimes it's because people get in the way. You share your dream with a bunch of people and the dreams start to get muddled and murky.
What the Teaparty seems to be doin is what they accuse Obama of doin'. They say thy're sellin' you the American dream and the give you the same ol' stuff that hasn't worked before. They're most famous nominee so far has been Christine O'Donnell. She is poised to take over Vice President Biden's senate seat. So that gives her potential to be V.P. herself sometime down the line, or better maybe. And what is it that this gal promotes in her campaign? She's ultra-conservative. Anti-masturbation. Believes that homsexuals have a sort of identity crisis caused by outside social factors. Promotes conservative sexual morality. She also believes she's heard the voice of God. (In Texas, you could enter that as a plea of insanity.) I really can't get behind any of that.
Not to mention they're funded by FreedomWorks. Ever heard of 'em? Me either so I did a lil lookin'. They're run by Dick Armey (Swear to Jeebus, I did not mak it up.) Well the Dick Armey organized a Republican Revolution back in the 90's that put a lot of Repub's in power. FreedomWorks is a non-profit organization that trains and encourages people to be active in politics. They don't actually make any money but they receive donations from companies to stick around anyway. Among other they're gettin' money from Phillip-Morris, Verizon, and AT&T. So they say these Teapartiers are helpin' the lil guys and indepenents out but they're backed by Republicans and CEO's of highly wealthy companies that screw you over daily. Hell Phillip-Morris legally sells you crap to give you cancer.
Brand new packagin' but these are the same guys that don't want gays to be open in the military. Same guys that for the last eight years have wanted to give tax cuts to the rich. Same wasps that only want to serve the wasps. They offer this dream to help the lil guy, to help America, when they're backed by Phillip-Morris and Dick Armey.
Just like those packs of cigarettes, when somebody's tryin' to sell you a dream you gotta turn it on it's side and give it a close look to figure out if it's got a warnin' label. Better be suspicious if it doesn't.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christine_O%27Donnell
http://www.cnn.com/2010/POLITICS/09/24/mann.odonnell/index.html
http://homepage.mac.com/rouses/good-guys/Voice/case%20for%20chastity.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tea_Party_movement
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FreedomWorks
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dick_Armey
The Teaparty itself seems to be very into a limited government and having people to check-up on them. Doesn't seem too bad. I don't want the government involved in every aspect of my life. And workin' for a small business I can tell you that it's a bitch when the IRS says you owe them money. Because regardless of whether you do or not, you owe them money.
They do want to simplify the tax system which I think would be good. It's not terribly complex now, or at least the small business taxes and my personal taxes aren't. But then I don't have kids or a house or a charity. But if you know what the percentages are for FICA, Medicare, etc. are and how to figure the math on those and just who to pay these taxes to it's not the most complicated thing in the world. Though it's by far the easiest. I know we get lots of refunds and letters sayin' we owe money throughout the year so maybe the IRS is even a bit confused about how it all works.
They also demand a balanced federal budget. This sounds good too. One should never spend more money than you make. But then I guess VISA, Amex, and the government think that a couple centuries in debt isn't that bad.
All that sounds really nice. I mean having all these independents getting organized to overthrow the tyranny of the Republicans and Democrats. Getting new blooded, movers and shakers in offices to completely change things would be a great idea.
But is that what's actually goin' on? If you look at the guys winnin' these elections they all come up as Republican. They aren't the incumbents. They tend to be ultra-conservative, younger, Republicans. I wouldn't say that younger guarantees different or better. It does seem that the Tea party is not a new breed so much as a new brand of Republican. It's the same old stuff in a brand new package.
Maybe that's enough for some. You promise them a dream of lower taxes and less government interference and I'm sure people will sign on. Obama promised a new America, a changed America. While I believe he's tried to do that I can't say that he's delivered. Same as no politician before him has delivered.
I dunno that you've heard the rumor, but politicians lie. Shockin', I know. They lie. Sometimes it's a promise they have no intention of keeping from the start. Sometimes it's because people get in the way. You share your dream with a bunch of people and the dreams start to get muddled and murky.
What the Teaparty seems to be doin is what they accuse Obama of doin'. They say thy're sellin' you the American dream and the give you the same ol' stuff that hasn't worked before. They're most famous nominee so far has been Christine O'Donnell. She is poised to take over Vice President Biden's senate seat. So that gives her potential to be V.P. herself sometime down the line, or better maybe. And what is it that this gal promotes in her campaign? She's ultra-conservative. Anti-masturbation. Believes that homsexuals have a sort of identity crisis caused by outside social factors. Promotes conservative sexual morality. She also believes she's heard the voice of God. (In Texas, you could enter that as a plea of insanity.) I really can't get behind any of that.
Not to mention they're funded by FreedomWorks. Ever heard of 'em? Me either so I did a lil lookin'. They're run by Dick Armey (Swear to Jeebus, I did not mak it up.) Well the Dick Armey organized a Republican Revolution back in the 90's that put a lot of Repub's in power. FreedomWorks is a non-profit organization that trains and encourages people to be active in politics. They don't actually make any money but they receive donations from companies to stick around anyway. Among other they're gettin' money from Phillip-Morris, Verizon, and AT&T. So they say these Teapartiers are helpin' the lil guys and indepenents out but they're backed by Republicans and CEO's of highly wealthy companies that screw you over daily. Hell Phillip-Morris legally sells you crap to give you cancer.
Brand new packagin' but these are the same guys that don't want gays to be open in the military. Same guys that for the last eight years have wanted to give tax cuts to the rich. Same wasps that only want to serve the wasps. They offer this dream to help the lil guy, to help America, when they're backed by Phillip-Morris and Dick Armey.
Just like those packs of cigarettes, when somebody's tryin' to sell you a dream you gotta turn it on it's side and give it a close look to figure out if it's got a warnin' label. Better be suspicious if it doesn't.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christine_O%27Donnell
http://www.cnn.com/2010/POLITICS/09/24/mann.odonnell/index.html
http://homepage.mac.com/rouses/good-guys/Voice/case%20for%20chastity.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tea_Party_movement
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FreedomWorks
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dick_Armey
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Rebirth
I was flippin' through all this stuff I've written on this blog and came to the realization that I've been at this for a year now. A year and about a month actually. I hadn't even noticed, I been so busy.
Damn where does the time go? Another year down the drain and not much has changed. Still broke, still chubby, still unpublished, still in Texas.
I think I may have lost my way here and there. Lookin' back I see where I gave you some crap. But I think I gave you some good ones too. I was pressed for time on some and others flowed out like water in minutes. I can't give you gold every time. But I'll do my best.
I dunno how many of you have tried to write a two page paper and work 60 hours a week and keep a girlfriend but it gets a lil challengin' here and there and so one or the other tends to suffer. But a writer's gotta live his life or else he's got nuthin' worth sayin' anyway.
A writer's gotta walk outside and see the world. He's gotta question everything and take notice of every joy and pain in the world. He's gotta be sensitive in a world that crushes sensitivity. A writer is a lot more than a person with a pen and paper, he's someone that takes the whole of our existence, makes sense of it, and redelivers it to us in a profound way. The more that author knows about anything and everything, the more he's seen and heard, the better his story is gonna be.
One of the most important tools in an author's arsenal is his sensitivity. For any artist really. You gotta suffer when others suffer. You gotta smile when others smile. Artist hearts beat with the world. That sensitivity allows you to be reborn as every single person that ever lived or ever will live. But it also weighs heavy on your soul.
To paraphrase Emily Dickinson (I'm pretty sure it was her anyway), a writers greatest gift is his his sensitivity to the world around him but it is also his curse since it can drive him crazy to be that aware of all the wrong and all that love. Hell it even drives regular folks nuts. How could you blame Elliot Smith or Vincent Van Gough or Virginia Woolf or Frida Kahlo or Ernest Hemingway or anybody else?
But I ain't there yet. I got no intentions of goin' just yet. But to say I've never had those thoughts would be a lie. I think everybody has 'em. And I've been through a hell of my own design. I had my reasons to think like that. But right now I'm feelin' good and I gotta handle on things. I'm lookin' forward to the magic I can make outta my words.
I got plans for this blog and the facebook fan page and my writin' in general. I won't commit to anything just yet since I'm still workin' on all this but I'm tryin' to get it all together for you lovely lil readers as soon as I can.
I need to get back into the groove of tryin' to change what I see is wrong with the world. I look around and pay attention to what I see, I listen to the stories people tell me, and a lot of what I see disgusts me. I'm pretty far left, which I'm sure you know by now. I believe in peace and tolerance. I believe in workin' hard and bein' fair. I try to be good to my family. I try to treat people with respect, women in particular. I don't want everyone to be just like me but I do want people to be good and decent to each other.
I realize good is a relative term, so to clarify: I want people to get along as best as we can without robbin', killin', rapin', or otherwise screwin' each other over. There's no makin' everybody happy but I know the world can be better than this. I know I can be better than I am and I'd like to help anyone I can be the best them they can be.
I don't have the keys to everything. I don't have the answers. I only have what I feel, my experience, and my stories. I hope you enjoy readin' them. I hope you get sumthin' outta them.
I thank y'all for stickin' with me thus far. I hope you stick around for another year. I hope you tell your friends about me. Maybe we can change a few things and make our world a lil bit better. Maybe we won't. But who knows? Maybe I'm just self-centered and egotistical. I am human afterall.
Damn where does the time go? Another year down the drain and not much has changed. Still broke, still chubby, still unpublished, still in Texas.
I think I may have lost my way here and there. Lookin' back I see where I gave you some crap. But I think I gave you some good ones too. I was pressed for time on some and others flowed out like water in minutes. I can't give you gold every time. But I'll do my best.
I dunno how many of you have tried to write a two page paper and work 60 hours a week and keep a girlfriend but it gets a lil challengin' here and there and so one or the other tends to suffer. But a writer's gotta live his life or else he's got nuthin' worth sayin' anyway.
A writer's gotta walk outside and see the world. He's gotta question everything and take notice of every joy and pain in the world. He's gotta be sensitive in a world that crushes sensitivity. A writer is a lot more than a person with a pen and paper, he's someone that takes the whole of our existence, makes sense of it, and redelivers it to us in a profound way. The more that author knows about anything and everything, the more he's seen and heard, the better his story is gonna be.
One of the most important tools in an author's arsenal is his sensitivity. For any artist really. You gotta suffer when others suffer. You gotta smile when others smile. Artist hearts beat with the world. That sensitivity allows you to be reborn as every single person that ever lived or ever will live. But it also weighs heavy on your soul.
To paraphrase Emily Dickinson (I'm pretty sure it was her anyway), a writers greatest gift is his his sensitivity to the world around him but it is also his curse since it can drive him crazy to be that aware of all the wrong and all that love. Hell it even drives regular folks nuts. How could you blame Elliot Smith or Vincent Van Gough or Virginia Woolf or Frida Kahlo or Ernest Hemingway or anybody else?
But I ain't there yet. I got no intentions of goin' just yet. But to say I've never had those thoughts would be a lie. I think everybody has 'em. And I've been through a hell of my own design. I had my reasons to think like that. But right now I'm feelin' good and I gotta handle on things. I'm lookin' forward to the magic I can make outta my words.
I got plans for this blog and the facebook fan page and my writin' in general. I won't commit to anything just yet since I'm still workin' on all this but I'm tryin' to get it all together for you lovely lil readers as soon as I can.
I need to get back into the groove of tryin' to change what I see is wrong with the world. I look around and pay attention to what I see, I listen to the stories people tell me, and a lot of what I see disgusts me. I'm pretty far left, which I'm sure you know by now. I believe in peace and tolerance. I believe in workin' hard and bein' fair. I try to be good to my family. I try to treat people with respect, women in particular. I don't want everyone to be just like me but I do want people to be good and decent to each other.
I realize good is a relative term, so to clarify: I want people to get along as best as we can without robbin', killin', rapin', or otherwise screwin' each other over. There's no makin' everybody happy but I know the world can be better than this. I know I can be better than I am and I'd like to help anyone I can be the best them they can be.
I don't have the keys to everything. I don't have the answers. I only have what I feel, my experience, and my stories. I hope you enjoy readin' them. I hope you get sumthin' outta them.
I thank y'all for stickin' with me thus far. I hope you stick around for another year. I hope you tell your friends about me. Maybe we can change a few things and make our world a lil bit better. Maybe we won't. But who knows? Maybe I'm just self-centered and egotistical. I am human afterall.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Mad World
Years ago, when I was in high school, I took a few math classes. Most of them I can't remember much about, unfortunately. My nephew called the other day and wanted to know the standard form of a line, I think, and was curious how to find the parallel of a line. I told him what I knew which wasn't much.
I have always been terrible with math. Probably why it took me five tries to pass college algebra. Out of all my math classes there's really only one day that I can remember halfway decently.
It was one mornin' in the fall, I was most likely asleep since that's generally the way I took my math classes. Probably why it took me five tries to pass college algebra. I would try to stay awake but as soon as someone started ramblin' off about numbers and letters in a way that didn't make up a sentence I couldn't really think of any reason to stay awake.
In this sleepy daze, I remember an announcement coming on over the school's P. A. system. It said the teachers were to turn on the T.V.'s we had in the classroom. The were rarely used. On occasion we watched a movie that pertained to whatever class we had or we'd watch Channel One News where Lisa Ling and Maria Menounous were starting out. Never before had an announcement been made across the school for us to stop any lesson and watch the news.
Never in my lifetime had an event of such magnitude occurred. The closest I could think of was the Oklahoma city bombing. I was a bit too young to remember or care much about that when it happened. I'm sure some of your parents or grand parents remember Pearl Harbor. That's the only comparison to me that seems to make much sense. 9/11 was probably this generation's Pearl Harbor.
The teacher hit the power button and there we sat and watched as they replayed video of the second plane goin' into the second tower. We watched as these pillars crumbled down like a child's building blocks. The smoke and the fire and dust that become of the towers.
There was discussion and fears all around the classroom. The Japanese did it. They did that kamikaze stuff in World War Two. No, it was the Chinese they have five people to every one American and they're Communists.
What's a Taliban? Who's Osama Bin Laden? What do you mean terrorist? All of a sudden the world has become something like a comic book. There's a face of real villainy that doesn't belong to Dr. Doom or Lex Luthor. There are real groups that would cause harm to civilians to make a point and they aren't S.P.E.C.T.R.E. or Cobra. The world has just slipped a lil further into the world of the surreal.
This is a strange world we live in. Only a shadow of what it once was. A world that one hundred years ago would not have guessed that there could ever really be an end in store for it. But ever since that damned atom bomb there is a real way for the world, or at least massive chunks of it at a time, to be destroyed.
Alan Moore, author of Watchmen and V for Vendetta, has said that the missiles are havin' an effect on us even if they aren't fired. That this generation and the ones that will grow up in a world after us but still including these weapons will always be able to see the end of existence, however long that always may be.
It's sad that people anyway of any culture have become so desperate, so unable to communicate with each other that some groups find this massive cartoonish destruction to be acceptable. We did not just lose lives of innocent people that day, we also became less innocent as people. We live in a world where we have knives at our throats at every minute, we ignore it for the most part but at any minute someone's hand could slip.
So, as always it's important to take a step back and treat each other with love and kindness. We must understand each other now more than ever. Maybe one day future generations could laugh at the idea of us causing the end of our own world. It really is ridiculous anyway, you know.
I have always been terrible with math. Probably why it took me five tries to pass college algebra. Out of all my math classes there's really only one day that I can remember halfway decently.
It was one mornin' in the fall, I was most likely asleep since that's generally the way I took my math classes. Probably why it took me five tries to pass college algebra. I would try to stay awake but as soon as someone started ramblin' off about numbers and letters in a way that didn't make up a sentence I couldn't really think of any reason to stay awake.
In this sleepy daze, I remember an announcement coming on over the school's P. A. system. It said the teachers were to turn on the T.V.'s we had in the classroom. The were rarely used. On occasion we watched a movie that pertained to whatever class we had or we'd watch Channel One News where Lisa Ling and Maria Menounous were starting out. Never before had an announcement been made across the school for us to stop any lesson and watch the news.
Never in my lifetime had an event of such magnitude occurred. The closest I could think of was the Oklahoma city bombing. I was a bit too young to remember or care much about that when it happened. I'm sure some of your parents or grand parents remember Pearl Harbor. That's the only comparison to me that seems to make much sense. 9/11 was probably this generation's Pearl Harbor.
The teacher hit the power button and there we sat and watched as they replayed video of the second plane goin' into the second tower. We watched as these pillars crumbled down like a child's building blocks. The smoke and the fire and dust that become of the towers.
There was discussion and fears all around the classroom. The Japanese did it. They did that kamikaze stuff in World War Two. No, it was the Chinese they have five people to every one American and they're Communists.
What's a Taliban? Who's Osama Bin Laden? What do you mean terrorist? All of a sudden the world has become something like a comic book. There's a face of real villainy that doesn't belong to Dr. Doom or Lex Luthor. There are real groups that would cause harm to civilians to make a point and they aren't S.P.E.C.T.R.E. or Cobra. The world has just slipped a lil further into the world of the surreal.
This is a strange world we live in. Only a shadow of what it once was. A world that one hundred years ago would not have guessed that there could ever really be an end in store for it. But ever since that damned atom bomb there is a real way for the world, or at least massive chunks of it at a time, to be destroyed.
Alan Moore, author of Watchmen and V for Vendetta, has said that the missiles are havin' an effect on us even if they aren't fired. That this generation and the ones that will grow up in a world after us but still including these weapons will always be able to see the end of existence, however long that always may be.
It's sad that people anyway of any culture have become so desperate, so unable to communicate with each other that some groups find this massive cartoonish destruction to be acceptable. We did not just lose lives of innocent people that day, we also became less innocent as people. We live in a world where we have knives at our throats at every minute, we ignore it for the most part but at any minute someone's hand could slip.
So, as always it's important to take a step back and treat each other with love and kindness. We must understand each other now more than ever. Maybe one day future generations could laugh at the idea of us causing the end of our own world. It really is ridiculous anyway, you know.
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