Friday, February 03, 2006

What is with the state department telling us we can’t (or shouldn't) make or reproduce cartoons depicting mohhammed? (the original news blurb I heard of this gigantic clusterfuck of a story) Fuck the state department. Fuck the state department. Goddammit. And I know the argument, the terrorists will destroy us for our cartoons, but can we afford to have duct tape plastered over our eyes and ears in the interest of safety? What if while we’re censoring every last off key idea that tom dick & harry might have something of real substance & resonance and meaning that could have saved the world or at least made that little girl crying outside because her old man slapped her around gets shoved into the charnal heap of Fahrenheit 451 style mania to protect the protectorate from its own ignorant lack of self interest, airbags smacking people in the face as they drive straight into the side walls of 7-11’s in a town near you.

Mel Gibson can beat the living shit out of jesus for two and a half hours for a bunch of fat popcorn chucking Midwestern hooligans to mentally jollily flagellate their consciences and consciousness with, to pat themselves on the back and applaud their decision to worship his old man, while watching him bleed from every possible pore, and I can’t draw mohammed sitting down with the pope and a black guy from north Dakota waiting to pull each other’s fingers? Jesus goddamm mohammed Christ in a knish.

Ok, I was looking for copies of the cartoons in question. Looks like the HUGE fucking deal is that some Danish newspaper ran 12 of these cartoons depicting mohammed doing allah knows what, and then I see this:

First published in Denmark in September and later picked up by a dozen publications across Europe, the caricatures -- including one depicting Mohammed with a turban-shaped bomb on his head -- have provoked a firestorm of indignation in the Islamic world, with boycotts of Danish goods being observed in some countries, especially Gulf states.

It’s a cartoon “FIRESTORM!!!”

Protesters from two militant Indonesian Muslim groups have forced their way into the building housing the Danish embassy during a protest over caricatures of the Prophet Mohammed published in a Danish newspaper. Other demonstrations condemning the cartoons have been taking place across Asia.

Let me get this straight. These crazy motherfuckers stormed the Danish EMBASSY over CARTOONS. CAR motherfucking TOONS people, not published by the Danish government, but by a Danish newspaper.

Uh, dear state department, maybe, yeah, we shouldn’t reprint these things? Jesus goddamm mohhammed Christ jihad. What the fuck is wrong with the goddamm fucking world when people are raiding embassies over fucking cartoons? Could george bush be right? Do we really need to furrow these crazy ass mofos out from whatever cave they may be hiding in? And even if he’s not (right), does insane ass shit like this, thousands of people flipping out, storming embassies, threatening terrorist action, OVER CARTOONS, make shitloads of people thinks that he is?

I need to find some truth. And I think the only way to find it is to type on this keyboard, just stare at the keys, watch as my fingers wander back and forth, chopped up nails and marked up hands, signs of a weathered life, not too beaten down, but there’s people that have it easier, but that doesn’t matter, that’s getting away from the truth, don’t look at the words either, if the hands bother you, look at the wall, out the window, into the bay, out into the sea that’s not there but is there. There are so many whores and automotans out there just looking to bastardize anything that may be left with even a hint of honor, and here I sit selling shit to a quite suspecting non public, listening to rockers from parts unknown scream and cry about it, the only symbol of my own involvement.

I was gonna let it go at that, but I can’t. what more is there to say. What prompted this? This report from “ET” on the divorce of heather locklear & richie sambora, two people I couldn’t give a damn about and it’s representative of my own morbid car crash curiosity that I even clicked the link, a little ditty about how, yes, they’re splitting up, blah blah, but the last words, that little last refrain, is what set off the markers of rage: “For more on the split, don't miss tonight's ET!” goddammit you little bitches, if that isn’t enough, now I, or we, or them, have to go home turn on our idiot boxes and listen to you analyze and poke and probe this painful situation for those involved, figure out just what happened, when probably exactly what happened is that these people just could not make it work anymore, despite protestations and publicists, and now we have to furrow our noses into their affairs, but those are the costs of fame, and blah blah blah fucking blah.

I don’t know who to be irritated with. But these are human beings dammitt, despite their plastic skin and emaciated souls. They bleed, they cry, they know, they feel, and you may not be able to see the expression on their skin, but look into the eyes, they haven’t perfected a surgery yet that can give you a permanent glazed happy expression, look into those dead eyes, and leave them alone.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Howdy heidi howly hoodie ho. Yeah, I know, onomoteipeia, or however you spell it, is like the epitome of 1982, but you know whut? Fuck all that, let’s go back to 1982. I’ll lead the charge. You can take your lions, your tigers, and your howler monkeys and ship them back across the aegean, cuz I’m telling ya, people think it’s all aboot the benjies, but that ain’t even half of it kid, not even a quarter, ok, maybe a third, but it’s whut’s in there champ, in here, in that special place, not your mind, your ticker, jack, your heart, el corazon as the greek put it so eloquently on stage in Casablanca. Despite the fact of nothing of that being right, it does not make it incorrect. Wait, reverse that. Then it is indubitably irrefutable. Ask anyone. Take Shirley there, literally. Har har. You just gotta keep doing whut you do, you know? Like cat mobley’s house getting robbed. That’s the attitude, mayne. He just gonna keep on keeping on, hoping that the robber’s use the money for something useful & that it helped them and that it’s not someone he knew and trusted jackin him for beats. And if it is, life moves on, pitter patter pitter patter, and you reevaluate, and you push riff raff to the side, bring in reinforcements, batten down the hatches, figger out who’s real & who’s fake and who’s faking to be real and repping the credentials but waving a flag of noncommittal selfish snake infested watershed idealistics grounded in nothing but greed and quarterstackin, if there’s any difference, and even if there ain’t. not that there’s anything wrong with greed, hey, ya know, it’s like ayn rand said, not necessarily selfishness, but the idea that ego is what drives the world, we are what we are and the ones that think they’re the best are the best? Or the worst. I can’t remember. Is it Tuesday or Thursday? Once we confirm that I can put it in a blender and hit puree and get back to you in the morning with my special weekly lock pick of the month. It’s guaranteed with a gigantic Cadillac escalade on 62’s. yes, it’s almost a monster truck. With leather interior and a plasma screen so big I had to rip holes in the frame. You understand, there are certain standards that need to applicated and adhered to when you roll this deep. Gracias.