Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Vincent van Gogh and the Bumpersticker - A True Story
Once upon a time, I was given a gift by a young man who had dated my daughter and had become a family friend.
The bumpersticker read:
LOVE MY COUNTRY
FEAR MY GOVERNMENT
I loved the kid and I was touched by the sentiment, but the message of the sticker itself did not properly reflect my own attitude.
There was but one thing to do.
Finding myself alone with the sticker one Starry Starry Night, I grabbed a boxcutter, and with one surgical slice, removed the offending EAR, leaving the bumpersticker to now proclaim:
LOVE MY COUNTRY
F MY GOVERNMENT
Aaaaaahhhhh.... That looks MUCH better.
Thanks for the inspiration, Vince, you crazy dead painter guy, you!
The bumpersticker read:
LOVE MY COUNTRY
FEAR MY GOVERNMENT
I loved the kid and I was touched by the sentiment, but the message of the sticker itself did not properly reflect my own attitude.
There was but one thing to do.
Finding myself alone with the sticker one Starry Starry Night, I grabbed a boxcutter, and with one surgical slice, removed the offending EAR, leaving the bumpersticker to now proclaim:
LOVE MY COUNTRY
F MY GOVERNMENT
Aaaaaahhhhh.... That looks MUCH better.
Thanks for the inspiration, Vince, you crazy dead painter guy, you!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
one change, two change/red change, blue change
so I was thinking.../(DANGER WILL ROBINSON!!!)/
Participation in the ongoing process of universal co-creation/internal meta/program amounts to immersal in the world of CHANGE.
zimmy daJoo is without doubt one of the most prolific and resonant poets of my peculiar subslice of the boomer generation.
for me, saint robert the Hunter is another Aluminated Lyricist.
there are three tunes playing in my head, one general theme:
1. "time will tell who has fell, and who's been left behind
when you go your way and i go mine."
2. "now everything's a little upside down
as a matter of fact the wheels have stopped
what's good is bad/what's bad is good
you'll find out when you reach the top -
you're on the bottommmmmmm"
and finally, hunter
3:
"The wheel is turning and you can't slow down
You can't let go and you can't hold on
You can't go back and you can't stand still
If the thunder don't get you then the lightning will...
...won'tcha try just a little bit harder?
couldn'tcha try just a little bit more?"
more poetry: older, but seared as deeply into my psyche by childhood reading/parental recitation. we all loved the A.A. Milne stuff; this was before disney kidnapped pooh and made him a spokesperson for MindlessConsumerism.buy. The poems were as fun as the tales were, rhythm and rhyme invoke colorful images in the imaginative mind of a young child...
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
Alice is marrying one of the guard.
"A soldier's life is terrible hard,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We saw a guard in a sentry-box.
"One of the sergeants looks after their socks,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We looked for the King, but he never came.
"Well, God take care of him, all the same,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
They've great big parties inside the grounds.
"I wouldn't be King for a hundred pounds,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
A face looked out, but it wasn't the King's.
"He's much too busy a-signing things,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
"Do you think the King knows all about me?"
"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea,"
Says Alice.
and here we are nearly half a century (as measured in gregsols) from my days as the happy recipient of the bedtime story/poem, yet the words return to resonate with timeless clarity and curious synchronicity, as I have been specifically pondering the red to blue change of guard at our own House, and how much it reminds me of a scripted exercise in role reversal.
as mentioned in other musings, previous perusal of alternative calendrical systems has unearthed particular and peculiar time-stamped personal attributes (based, like western astrology, on particular maps/models/interpretation of the allegedly significant, cosmic "divine" geometric configuration present at the moment of one's birth.
Like loose change dropped in the gutter, the amount of resonance/meaningfulness one finds in such systems depends on A) whether one approaches with any belief/faith in the possibility that there IS money in the streets, and B) the effort one exerts to find it.
when it comes to particular, established, belief systems, I've come to realize that when I become too attached to a dogma, it invariably has its head crushed by the wheel of karma, and i'm once again left without my beloved little puppy of divine principle...
so i only embrace virtual pets these days, imaginary mutant mixed breed mutton chopped photoshopped cut and pasted spiritual chimera collages of my own eclectic deeply bent creation. stuck together with duct tape and spittle, always under construction forever subject to change without notice.
but back to the mayans, the coincidences i accidentally tripped over that seem to resonate - describe "me" as a monkey/prankster/weaver of disparate essences/ a jack-off all tirades, master baiter of nun. more or less.
In fact, i am a dabbler.
I love the food network. Everybody eats. Nutrition is healthy. creativity is healthy. self-reliance is healthy.
Last night I watched a show called "Chopped." Aspiring chefs around the world are familiar with the "mystery basket" exercise. A team of judges/instructor/head chef assembles a group of ingredients for the apprentice/(contestant-competitor) in a "mystery basket." The participant(s) must then prepare one or more dishes using all the ingredients.
It seems to me that the established political punditry (aka msm/official govt spokespeeps) like to do the same when it comes to collective "talking points." They choose the topics that will be used to prepare the various dishes being served up by the talking heads.
Take tax-day "tea-bagging," for example. If one spends any time perusing the various television news networks, one is aware that the term has taken on a meaning that is neither related to afternoon sipping or testicular dipping.
Here's the part that fascinates me the most: During Bushtime, blue said dissent was patriotic, while red said the dissenters were tools of the wealthy elite soroses and koses and moveons, potential threats to security et c.
Here we are in Obamatime, less than ninety days have passed in the First Year of the Era of Real Change and the protesters are now/still? (i'm confused) dimwitted tools of the corporate elite unless you're dressed in red in which case you are witnessing a grass-roots movement to take our country back (sure sounds familiar)
the more things change...
i have thusfar concluded that patriotism is defined by partisan power and belief rather than principle.
It's patriotic to support the government if Your Guy is in power, while those who oppose are anti-American, ignorant, extremist and dangerous.
If on the other hand, when the Other Guys are in charge, it is the right-nay, duty of every patriotic merkin to stand up and oppose the policies that our ruining our nation.
"This time, Johnny/Dad, YOU play the role of the father/son."
The parting on the left is now the parting on the right, the pork-pie's been replaced with a beret but both are made of tinfoil and there's still a few springtime storms with lightning and hail in the forecast here in tornado alley, the sweaty putrid metropolitan boil festering neath the belt Buckle of jeebus the martyr
Hate is prematurely ejaculated love.
so shake it baby shake it just watch where you point that thing if there's any chance you might go off half cocked.
Participation in the ongoing process of universal co-creation/internal meta/program amounts to immersal in the world of CHANGE.
zimmy daJoo is without doubt one of the most prolific and resonant poets of my peculiar subslice of the boomer generation.
for me, saint robert the Hunter is another Aluminated Lyricist.
there are three tunes playing in my head, one general theme:
1. "time will tell who has fell, and who's been left behind
when you go your way and i go mine."
2. "now everything's a little upside down
as a matter of fact the wheels have stopped
what's good is bad/what's bad is good
you'll find out when you reach the top -
you're on the bottommmmmmm"
and finally, hunter
3:
"The wheel is turning and you can't slow down
You can't let go and you can't hold on
You can't go back and you can't stand still
If the thunder don't get you then the lightning will...
...won'tcha try just a little bit harder?
couldn'tcha try just a little bit more?"
more poetry: older, but seared as deeply into my psyche by childhood reading/parental recitation. we all loved the A.A. Milne stuff; this was before disney kidnapped pooh and made him a spokesperson for MindlessConsumerism.buy. The poems were as fun as the tales were, rhythm and rhyme invoke colorful images in the imaginative mind of a young child...
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
Alice is marrying one of the guard.
"A soldier's life is terrible hard,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We saw a guard in a sentry-box.
"One of the sergeants looks after their socks,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We looked for the King, but he never came.
"Well, God take care of him, all the same,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
They've great big parties inside the grounds.
"I wouldn't be King for a hundred pounds,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
A face looked out, but it wasn't the King's.
"He's much too busy a-signing things,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
"Do you think the King knows all about me?"
"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea,"
Says Alice.
and here we are nearly half a century (as measured in gregsols) from my days as the happy recipient of the bedtime story/poem, yet the words return to resonate with timeless clarity and curious synchronicity, as I have been specifically pondering the red to blue change of guard at our own House, and how much it reminds me of a scripted exercise in role reversal.
as mentioned in other musings, previous perusal of alternative calendrical systems has unearthed particular and peculiar time-stamped personal attributes (based, like western astrology, on particular maps/models/interpretation of the allegedly significant, cosmic "divine" geometric configuration present at the moment of one's birth.
Like loose change dropped in the gutter, the amount of resonance/meaningfulness one finds in such systems depends on A) whether one approaches with any belief/faith in the possibility that there IS money in the streets, and B) the effort one exerts to find it.
when it comes to particular, established, belief systems, I've come to realize that when I become too attached to a dogma, it invariably has its head crushed by the wheel of karma, and i'm once again left without my beloved little puppy of divine principle...
so i only embrace virtual pets these days, imaginary mutant mixed breed mutton chopped photoshopped cut and pasted spiritual chimera collages of my own eclectic deeply bent creation. stuck together with duct tape and spittle, always under construction forever subject to change without notice.
but back to the mayans, the coincidences i accidentally tripped over that seem to resonate - describe "me" as a monkey/prankster/weaver of disparate essences/ a jack-off all tirades, master baiter of nun. more or less.
In fact, i am a dabbler.
I love the food network. Everybody eats. Nutrition is healthy. creativity is healthy. self-reliance is healthy.
Last night I watched a show called "Chopped." Aspiring chefs around the world are familiar with the "mystery basket" exercise. A team of judges/instructor/head chef assembles a group of ingredients for the apprentice/(contestant-competitor) in a "mystery basket." The participant(s) must then prepare one or more dishes using all the ingredients.
It seems to me that the established political punditry (aka msm/official govt spokespeeps) like to do the same when it comes to collective "talking points." They choose the topics that will be used to prepare the various dishes being served up by the talking heads.
Take tax-day "tea-bagging," for example. If one spends any time perusing the various television news networks, one is aware that the term has taken on a meaning that is neither related to afternoon sipping or testicular dipping.
Here's the part that fascinates me the most: During Bushtime, blue said dissent was patriotic, while red said the dissenters were tools of the wealthy elite soroses and koses and moveons, potential threats to security et c.
Here we are in Obamatime, less than ninety days have passed in the First Year of the Era of Real Change and the protesters are now/still? (i'm confused) dimwitted tools of the corporate elite unless you're dressed in red in which case you are witnessing a grass-roots movement to take our country back (sure sounds familiar)
the more things change...
i have thusfar concluded that patriotism is defined by partisan power and belief rather than principle.
It's patriotic to support the government if Your Guy is in power, while those who oppose are anti-American, ignorant, extremist and dangerous.
If on the other hand, when the Other Guys are in charge, it is the right-nay, duty of every patriotic merkin to stand up and oppose the policies that our ruining our nation.
"This time, Johnny/Dad, YOU play the role of the father/son."
The parting on the left is now the parting on the right, the pork-pie's been replaced with a beret but both are made of tinfoil and there's still a few springtime storms with lightning and hail in the forecast here in tornado alley, the sweaty putrid metropolitan boil festering neath the belt Buckle of jeebus the martyr
Hate is prematurely ejaculated love.
so shake it baby shake it just watch where you point that thing if there's any chance you might go off half cocked.
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