Monthly Archives: June 2005

easy HELP here To COMMENT on pogblog

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Anyone can view pogblog's Main Page and read all the articles & fables. Just clik more>> at the end of the excerpt.

 

 To COMMENT as of September 28, 2005, just write your Comment in the box and type the tumbled letters into the Comments Verification Box & clik post. This will post an anonymous Comment. Tho of course you can sign your name or handle if you wish in your Comment. (If you want an easy clikkable automatic contact link, then create a Reader Account. Nice but not necessary now) .. ..

 

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pogblog.myblogsite.com  .. please link us & give us to your friends ..

 


(If you already know what you're doing, skip this and go to Create Reader Account or Subscribe to pogblog on upper right of Main Page.)

 

To Create Reader Account 

The simplest thing is to just email pogblog@yahoo.com and we'll set you up with a reader account. Tell us a nickname (e.g. cedral755; iotasiotas; shamanofdroll; chancelucky)you'd like and the year of your birth is helpful, tho not necessary. We'll get you as near what you want as availability will allow. You can always change stuff later.

 

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If YOU want to do it yourself, here's the details:

Anyone can view pogblog's main page and read articles & fables etc, but to post comments,  a reader must first Create Reader Account and/or Subscribe FREE.
If you're real beginner at this, you'd be best off to Copy the rest of this & Paste it into a Word Document so you can print it out & follow it step by step! 

Very Detailed clik by clik instructions
to Create Reader Account &/or Subscribe so you can Comment on pogblog:
 
Dear wonderful pogblog Reader,
 
You can either Print out this email so you can refer to it or go back & forth between this email page & pogblog. This seems like a lot of words, but it's just a full explanation for folks who are unfamiliar with the tricks. It's very simple once you understand. The first time is complicated seeming, but then you know the tricks. If you're familiar with it, it takes 3 minutes; if not, it takes what it takes, but you're learning!
 
Proceed slowly and deliberately & this will work for you! (We want your Comments on pogblog! If these instructions don't work for you, email me again pogblog@yahoo.com)!
Read all of a step before you proceed. We recommend using noms de plume or fake names.
 
(All cliks are one-cliks unless indicated as 2Clik. The red will indicate that you do something.)
 
To Sign Up so you can Comment or Subscribe,
clik Create Reader Account on right upper side of pogblog's Main Page;
This takes you to
Account Creation & Subscription Options page
Down a bit below the little blue [Login] box, you'll see the following:

If you do not have an account, please create one now.

 

Clik on create one.

  

This brings up the Blogware User Signup page.
 
On the left you see Login Info

Fill in Username
(The name — all one word & lowercase — you'll use for Display Name on the right in a moment will be fine.) This can and usually is a fake name that you use to comment on pogblog or any blog in the future if you like. You can be guinevere or kingarthur if you like (tho Blogware may refuse your first few choices because someone else out here in cyberland already has it. If you really love a name or 'handle,' you can try doing birdsnest343 & see if adding the numbers lets you have it. You'll be amazed at what people have already taken. You try cateyelashes & it refuses it! Persevere. It seems annoying at first, but becomes a game to outwit the darn thing. 
 
Fill in Password
You may type in any password of at least 6 letters & numbers — you can do all letters (I do), but I don't think you can do all numbers — again unless someone else has it. (If either your name or password are too long, you may find it annoying over time as you sign in — more to type.) When you type, you will see only big black dots, not the password you chose — this is the convention to protect you from someone looking over your shoulder and 'eavesdropping' on your password.) I recommend a new password that you use for this web & blog stuff, not your main daily password. But DO jot it down right now so you can remember!
 
Fill in Confirm [You're confirming the Password.]
Re-type the password you just typed above. This is so you know you typed in the right thing the first time since you can't actually see it in either place!
 
Now on your right, you see Contact Info
Fill in Display Name
This is the name people will see on your comment. It can be the same fake name you put in Username to the left.(Having them the same is less to keep straight.) You are welcome to use your real name if you like in either place, but do not feel it's dishonest or deceptive to make up a name — it's part of the convention, part of the cyber-playfulness that's out here.
 
 
Fill in First Name
You must fill in a name here but it may be fake, though in a minute after you've clikked [Signup], you'll get the option of choosing what people can & cannot see. I use a fake name. (For example, Cement Cement for first & last name is ok, but you must make a note now or you’ll forget!!)
 
Fill in Last Name
You must fill in a name here but it may be (& should be) fake.
 
URL: is optional. IF you have a website or blog, you may enter your web or blog URL or unique address (pogblog's URL, for instance is http://pogblog.myblogsite.com/blog  An URL is a formal unique Internet address.) If you don't have a website or blog, leave it blank.
 
Fill in Email
You must fill in a real email address that you can check, but it may be a free yahoo account you set up with fake names for web surfing — it doesn't have to be your main email account. You can create a yahoo!mail free account, for instance, that mirrors all the fake names you want to use here, but you would have to go set it up first so you know that yahoo will have the names available.
 
Timezone
Leave the Timezone as US/Pacific, or where ever you are. If you are in Australia or France, fix it accordingly. When you comment, this will allow your comment to show what time you posted your comment.
 
Agreement box
You must clik the little [box] next to I agree to and understand the user agreement. Clikking it puts a little black arrow in it. Myself I never read the agreements which are pages of gobbledegook. You have to agree to them though or you can't proceed. You've probably only agreed that it's ok for aliens to experiment on your first-born child, so so what. Life's too short to read this kind of fine print.
 
Signup box
You must clik the [Signup] box or it won't happen. Do check stuff before you clik Signup because that pretty much locks in some stuff.
 
After you clik Signup, a Blogware page will come up saying:
 
Signup Result
We have sent a confirmation email to xxxx@xxxx.com. Please confirm your signup request by following the instructions included in the email.
Thank you.
 
Go to your email account 
In your email Inbox, you'll see a message from newusersignup@blogware.com with a Subject line saying Signup Confirmation for www.blogware.com
 
Clik on that message to open it.
 
In the middle of the text, you'll see a blue line or link.
 
Clik the blue link.
 
In about 30 seconds, you will be whisked to your Blogware Control Panel/Address Book/ & My Profile page
 
It will say that Your account has been confirmed — you are now logged in.
 
This means you are logged in to the Blogware My Profile page for the last step.
(Decide whether it's OK for people to email you from pogblog. If yes, go down under Account Info &  across from that in the Display Staus column, clik the little dropdown & change it from Friends Only to Public. (You can always decide to do this later. SAVE the Welcome to Blogware email you'll get in your email system because it has the link so you can go fuss with your Profile later if you want.)
 
Clik [Save Changes]
 
Do NOTHING more now except [LOGOUT] in upper righthand corner of that Blogware My Profile page. Do not put in a new password. You can add lots of stuff later if you want to get into it, but for now you can just log out.
 
Go back to pogblog.myblogsite.com & on the upper right area where it says Login, type your shiny new username & password (which will look like big black dots)and clik the [Login] box and then you can clik on Comment by any article and proceed! 
 
Congratulations! Well done!  
 
(Remember if you still have questions about how to do this, just email pogblog@yahoo.com. We want this to work for you!)
 

Please tell your friends about pogblog.myblogsite.com/blog

Simple Exit Strategy .. Iraq

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    Simple Iraq Exit Strategy

 

   There is a very Simple Exit Strategy for Raq. Each of the 535 members of Congress will designate one son or daughter or grandson or granddaughter or nephew or niece to be deployed asap to the theater of war in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Iraq.

     Also Mr. Bush’s Choice — either Jen or Barbara. Also a child from Mr. Rove; Mr. Cheney; Mr. Rumsfeld; Ms. Rice, et al in the hierarchy of True Believers who shed no sweat, least of all blood.

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

I predict that an Exit Strategy will be whipped up in a month.

 

     I remember when Michael Fay, my first husband, died. Not in war. But at 29 years old. I can still hear my scream when I got the phone call. A scream that should have shattered Heaven but which he could never hear.

 

Is it really worth all these kids, George? Send yours then.

 

I predict that an Exit Strategy would be whipped up in a month.   

 

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copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

06.29.05  01:17:47a.pdt.us 2 Rabbit . Lamat  tzol 28  tueswed

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guest post: 1st Amendment Abridged by Scorn & Intimidation

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guest post on pogblog:   

 

   The previously self-evident American precious-idea that All citizens are created Equal took a distressing hit in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Palo Alto CA on Saturday night, June 25, 2005. As a person who has protested for peace and for economic justice for 40 years – since John Kennedy was assassinated on my 19th birthday I suppose — I was desolate at the sudden slide towards totalityranny that I experienced in those Palo Alto streets where once liberty shone.

    As a chubby ex-English teacher carrying a Teach Peace sign, I think I am not an inherently threatening figure. Around the edges of a full-time job, I have carried that now very-dog-eared sign around the Peninsula daily for nearly 1000 days since October 2002.  There have been several adventures in free speech and the right to the public-square-equivalent protected in 1980’s Pruneyard (our own backyard in Campbell) Supreme Court decision.

    But the police presence in downtown Palo Alto had to be experienced to be believed. I know and deplore that there was some minor mayhem in a May rally, but the law enforcement community who have always difficult and often dangerous jobs have changed materially from my experience over all these years. I was not treated as an equal citizen whose reasonable exercise of first amendment rights should be actively protected by law enforcement in America – even hated speech must be honored actively in fact.

     It was clear that the officers were intensely edgy and fearful with no provocation. I was shouted at repeatedly not as a fellow citizen, but with derision, “Go home and smoke some more dope” (by a senior officer). I whose tag line to my students for a lifetime has been “My drug of choice is air.” There was no respect or presumption that I was a profoundly patriotic American citizen endowed with inalienable rights. I was treated as if I were possibly criminal and certainly stupid. That instead of being proud to be serving the public with benign strength in a country where the light in the torch of the Statue of Liberty itself is the light of free speech, many of the police were clearly contemptuous of the assembled citizens. I was personally battered by scorn.

    If free speech, that endangered species, were not at stake, it might have been all-but-comically sursurreal (sic) to see hundreds of police persons in a riot gear that paled the overwrought imaginations of Vader’s Storm Troopers themselves to keep a few hundreds of folk in order. But the full black head-to-toe exoskeleton riot gear with three-foot long truncheons, huge black guns, and no names only numbers was chilling. The infamous black helicopter circled ominously and endlessly overhead saying, “By the order of [a long list of Law Agencies], this had been declared an unlawful assembly. Disperse or you will be subject to arrest.”

    I heard one well-appointed man shout to a middle-aged protester, “Get a life,” as if free speech were for bums, not the highest expression of responsible, heart-wrenchingly concerned citizenship. This prosperous citizen went from froth to slaver, spewing invective with spit, at which point a perspicacious bystander, one of the putative ne’er-do-wells, said mildly, “Sir, sir, please take your meds.” Later, one well-groomed older women said haughtily, “Why are these [unwashed] people wasting our time? This is a terrible waste of police resources.” A gentle protester said back, “Protecting free speech seems a bargain, ma’am. One might better complain that we’re spending $14,000 a minute 24/7/365 on a fantasy Missile Defense system which I could sell to the same people who want to buy the Brooklyn Bridge.”

    The whole event on behalf of the police felt like an overdose of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies, but treating your fellow citizens, whom I presume the police are sworn to guard, as if they are enemies and low-life agitators is a sad business in America. It was not just the lack of respect for the event and its participants who were slightly rowdy at worst, but the hostile presumption of some kind of inchoate guilt that misses the point of the first amendment which must not be abridged by scorn or intimidation. 

 

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guest post .. Teach Throat

copyright assumed by http://pogblog.myblogsite.com 2005

all rights reserved

06-26-05 

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<a href=”http://technorati.com/tag/pogblog” rel=”tag”>http://pogblog.myblogsite.com</a>        

 

Clik WithIn For the real Main Page! Thanks!

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Sorry — yahoo has messed up the Search so you've come here instead of

 Main Page .

 

Just clik here and

you'll go to Main Page

to enter the pogblog carnival.

Thanks. Enjoy.

 

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in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />York, England!!!!

First pogblog poster across the Pond!

Cedral wins!

on 06.24.05, a big day in pogstory.

Thank you, cedral755. Cheerio igualmente.

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

You too can join the pogblog poster global-Game- CONTEST. (see below.)

    Hullabaloo! Hip, hip, Cedral rocks. Cedral755, we are SO proud and somersaulting. To have the first pogblog poster out there is distinctly full clive and not one smidgen of clintified. Cedral gets a prize. The third commentator- generated pogblog Glossary entry

     86.66% of Glossary entries are from the ongoing tempestuous rambunction with Digrif. Chancelucky just Goaaaled with the reagan’s Law moniker for the Child Mutilator Registry. And for cedral755, clint. It ain’t pretty, but it iz. Go visit it in pogblog's Glossary too.

 

clint; clinting; clintful; clintness .. My thoughts about “Clint” have previously been unprintable because I was one of the unfortunate thousands who saw that denture film-noir, Bridges of Madison County,  a penance for some unknowable wrong. This wretched film in which Meryl Streep did star shows you can do a silk-purse turn in a pig's-ear flick. ¶ At least as comiko-horror films go, the shots of Clint in the bathtub with his crêpy neck wattles are memorable if only one were into gigadizzguzzt. Not because he was old and horrible (gee, we all will be & will want to have been kinder), but because of his ineffable, upwelling-of-stench clintness — he whittles his lines. Wattles and whittling — what a treat. With the shower-stabbing scene in Psycho, we can induct the infamous Clint's-wattles scene into the Horror Scenes Hall of Fame. ¶ Usage: It was so clint, so skin-crawling to have to see Karlsputin Rove gumming up the phosphors on my tv screen. The overflow of sewage onto the street was clinting with the eerie glisten of mucal rot in an oily corruption attended by those paparazzi of insects, the dung-eating flies. (for cedral755 who planted the first pogblog poster across the Pond!) 6-25-05

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pogblog poster Global-Game-CONTEST: you can email pogblog@yahoo.com & we’ll send you the template for the small two-to-a-page pogblog ToadSpawn Be Gone! posters. Or make up your own. (Be cool.)

 

Send us a pict of pogblog poster in any place and you’ll win a PRIZE, and an automatic entry into My Own Custom Entry in pogblog’s Glossary – you pick the topic, pogblog writes the entry for YOU.

 

Wall Drug was this “mega-tourist trap” in South Dakota. It had signs for a hundred milesevery 200 feet saying “See the prairie dogs at Wall Drug.” The prairie dogs were mangy stuffed things, but as it was the only place to get a root beer in the hellsummer heat. You went to Wall Drug , or died. Wall Drug had this global sign game going for years and they even ended up with someone holding up a Wall Drug sign on Mount Everest. Pogblog wants Mount Everest too, but also Vermont and the Gobi desert or wherever you’re going. Pictures with cows get bonus points, as picts with giraffes or cats. Gehry’s museum in Bilbao gets, like, an entry in the Glossary AND in the Love Slave Hareem. Yo Yo Ma, Bela Fleck, or Clive Owen holding a pogblog poster, and well, gee.

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copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

06-25-05  12:57:25a.pdt.us  11 Lizard . Kan . Dragon tzol 24 frisat

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“I Take My Stand With Satan Today” — Toad Spawn, Be Gone! Appendix L

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Toad Spawn, Be Gone! the Exorcizm of GeorgeBush from America's Soul,  Appendix L

 

I Take My Stand With Satan Today

 

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6-24-05 12:38:25p.pdt.us 10 Hearth . Akbal . Night  tzolkin 23 fri 

Digrif mon chair, 

   I just read in the June 27, 2005 New Yorker p. 47 that these previously home-schooled students who enroll at Patrick Henry College, a feeder school for future 12ftTall Lizards Disguised as Human Beings Reptilian Party congressional interns and politicians of our “Christian Nation,” have to “sign a ten-part statement of faith, agreeing that, among other things Hell is a place where ‘all who die outside of Christ shall be confined in conscious torment for eternity.’”  

    At that exact mo-ment it was decided by Le Bleu et moi that my cat-friend, the Stunning-Rulerette-of-Milky-Way and Bealach na bó Finne (Way of White Cow/Irish) and Umthala(Zulu) and Marin Shimbireed (Way of the Bird/Somalia) and caer Arianrhod(Castle of the goddess Silver Wheel/Welsh) and Ngân-hà(Silver River/Vietnamese) – that my cat-friend’s nom de purr is Lucy Furr from henceforth. I take my stand with Lucy Furr and with Satan (<?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />1:04:07p.pdt.us) now.

     'All who die outside of Christ shall be confined in conscious torment for eternity'? How do they come up with this stuff? Conscious torment? No naps?! They are going d.o.w.n. You heard it here first. Grenade Girl and Lucy Furr are ON the case!! I no longer breathe air; I breathe brimstone(S16/3206). Let's romper et rumbler! Both sides can play with this conscious-torment game. Conscious-torment this, ScalyOnes.

 

Friend Fuerta says I'm [dangerously] “messin’ with their denial structure, girl.” Yeah, I'm going after their deep denial structure, with weapons of cold irony, my favorite and only cher Ub. They shouldnae hae messed wi' me, Riffie, what was a lil ole Southin' gal like me to do? Pass the smelling salts.

 

Digrif, ami de ma vie, pour toujours et un jour,

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> =====

 

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send our link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

6-24-05 12:38:25p.pdt.us 10 Hearth . Akbal . Night  tzolkin 23 fri 

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The fugu of the Humor Transplant ..Toad Spawn Chapter 5

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[To READ ALL of Toad Spawn Be Gone! Click on Toad Spawn Complete under Topics on Main Page.]

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ToadSpawn Be Gone! the Exorcizm of GeorgeBush from <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />America’s Soul

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

Chapter 5 .. the fugu of the Humor Transplant

 

     Myrth said, “In ClownSchool InterD, we don’t just get to indulge in fugu. There is fugu discipline. Fugu is the expert filleting of the exceedingly poisonous Hypocrisy fish, especially those found in the Religious and Political Oceans of Hubris. Gods alone know that our keen tools and our only wyrd and terrible weapons – Be ye terrified ye 12ftTall Lizards Disguised as Human Beings – our wyrd and terrible weapons are words. It’s necessary and fun to kebab the 12ftTall Lizards. I love weapon-words third only to the silver cat and the feloniously handsome Fuller. But we need to turn sword-words into plowshare words after we’ve welcomed the unfanged and unblinded, reasonably cheerful and modest 12ftTall Lizards back into the gallivanting human family. We need to explore with you students of comedy how people live in the aprèsWar world.

     “First let’s remind ourselves of the three great Greek philosophic constellations of inquiry: metaphysics; epistemology; ethics. Metaphysics deals with what is real. Epistemology with how we know. And ethics with what is good. The epistemology, the how of thinking, being, seeing is a lot of what ClownSchool InterD is about.

    “What do you do when you’re not gnashing your teeth; not wasting obscene sums of money on megalomaniacal weapons systems like missile defense; and not lashing out at people who snog a Different Deity than you do?    

    “Sursurprisingly, there is a way to live fruitfully and passionately and cheerfully without waking up in the morning rarin’ to perfect more Schemes to mutilate children.

    “But first, the ClownSchool InterD psybio team works holoday round perfecting the Humor Transplant operation that deflates the crazy hubris of the 12ftTall Lizards to bring them back into genuinely empathetic human scale. The radical and aggressive treatment probably necessary for cheney viperiens extremos is emergency splenectomy. The metastasized spleen just has to be hacked out on the spot—at the bus stop (As if any of them would ever ride a bus!) or at the dinner party with the butter knife or at the humvee sales lot.

   “Hustle ‘em off to the ClownSchool ER and stick an Irony transfusion IV into the soft skin inside the crook of their left elbow (the one nearest their vestigial heart) and play Mozart, Yo Yo Ma, Bella Fleck, and Hui Ohana til you see them giddy with grin. For a Cheney or Rove equivalent, this treatment could take years.

     “For people in less acute stages of satanically septic Reptilianosis, a course of ironyotherapy treatments are critical to recovery. Severe religiopatriosis is, like stroke, an attack whose redemptive recovery is long term – you’re never cured, you’re always a religiopatrioholic in recovery. The high the 12ftTall Lizards get is so fauxEupho that you have to kiss your left little finger 8x a day at the very least to protect yourself from the toxic effects of the effluvius and supperating corruption.

   “ ‘What!?’” you 12ft Lizards cry in unbridled disbelief. ‘What?! kiss your left little finger 8x a day at the very least?’

    “ ‘What!?’ the clowns cry, ‘You’re sharing our supersecret occult ritual with the 12ftTall Lizards Disguised as Human Beings? Not. You can’t. It’s our, well, our thing, our secret handshake.’

   “Shhh. It’s ok. They won’t be 12fttall Lizards any more. Their swollen spleens will be removed or de-inflamed. The kissing the left little finger 8x will help them keep on the yellow brick path to recovery.”

   “Well,” Salma Nella groused, “ok, I guess. I liked having one exclusive thing. They had the Jesus blood-drinking, fleshing-eating thing; cathedrals; heavy bishops’ rings that clunk on your head at your first communion; psalm books; hymn books; stained glass windows. I wanted some gear, some paraphernalia, a hash pipe equivalent or two. But at least our Kiss8 secret. Dammit all, Myrth.” Salma glared. “Oh, ok, go ahead and spill the bloody beans.” 

   “Here goes, ClownSchool InterD clownfants. Kiss8.”

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copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

6-22-05 2:01:23a.pdt.us  8 Alligator . Imix .Turtle tzol 31  tueswed

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Ing-Ing .. ToadSpawn Appendix B

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ToadSpawn Appendix B

 

Ing-Ing is deceptively simple. Grok this fable and your life will be dna deeply changed forever.

 

for the solstice .. the sun:ing luckily being a verb, not a noun! 

 

Ing-Ing 
 

    Jolly Ing is one of the few elves left in the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />New World. You didn’t know there’d ever been any? Well, perhaps you don’t quite know it all after all? Ha. Ha.

    Jolly’s brother, Chortle Ing, Esq., Chort, for short, is known far and wide for dancing, romancing, and chancing.

    You have that dubious rational look I hate. Yes, I’ve met them myself or I wouldn’t be telling you this tale. They are my zards. Zards are a cross between wizards and bards who teach a lucky few the astonishing joys of Ing. Jolly Ing is 4' 8” tall, not as portly as Chort, but a stout fellow nonetheless. His face is a glossy beardless chocolate hue, his eyes a dappled forest-glade hazel, his hair as russet as a robin’s breast.

    The Ing are a guild of gerund folk who teach that all that exists, from a stone to a clown juggling four balls and a dinner plate, is a verb, nouns being only a convenience of language, not truth. It’s all alive, living, throbbing. I spell this out to appease your Rational Dubious Self. The Ings explain little and show much.

    To decide whether I was enough fun to be apprenticed, fluid and druid enough of mind, I had to spend days ing-ing. I had to put i-n-g on every word I thought and said. I-ing am-ing eating chocolat-ing for-ing breakfast-ing. Verb think. More rightly put: verbing thinking.

    As much as we might wish for a break, wish to just stand still, we can not. Living is an irrevocable process-ing. The sea ceaselessly sloshes. There is no way out, however persistently we pout. Y’may as well swim.

    You feel panic when you first learn the verbing lesson. The wild energy of life blows through you like a hurricane. Jolly Ing taught me how to get into the eye of my own hurricane, to feel the energy but not get blown over. After awhile the energy gets savory and comforting–just as you cannot stop, you also cannot in fact get stuck. You may, and many do, become brilliant at sequential stubbornness and serial sulks, but you actually have to work at it, it is not the universe’s natural modus operandi.

    Chortle showed me many of noun think’s evils, or stupid sadnesses as he called them. No plurals or collective nouns actually exist. No plurals or collective nouns actually exist. There are no giraffes — only one giraffe + one giraffe + one giraffe. There are no gooks, no men, no women, no ethnic blurs. Ah, betrayed again by my belovéd language. In truth, we must consider each one, one at a time.

    Jolly said that language is a splendid and useful tool as long as we do not imagine that it displays the truth. Here he would say to me slyly, poking me annoyingly in the ribs, “How fast you forget, my little turtle dove,” his hazel eyes glinting like a splash of sun off a pool in a forest glade, “Not truth, but true-ing!” He would guffaw. Chort, of course, would chortle. The Ings are certainly bloody exasperating. They did show me though how to feel the heartbeat in each living thing, its pulse, its scent, its flavor. They introduced me to the companionship of the whole world.

    It was at first daunting. Heeded, every thing had a story to tell. The world positively chatted, gossiped, jabbered at me. Undrugged by anything but air, I was drunk with stunning sensation, poetic overload. It also all writhed which was shall we say disconcerting. Jolly taught me to steady the writhing to a pleasing shimmer or radiance and to turn the cacophony tuneful. “Blink,” he’d say. Apparently the poets who go mad, stare — forget to blink.

    Afraid perhaps that the glory will go away, is a trick, a ruse, a lie. The Big Lie. They try religion, drugs, drink, anything to pry open the Door to Wonder. Jolly likes to say, “I am a lert — being a lert is all that’s necessary. Alerting.”

==========


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The Arsenic Of ReligioPatriotism .. ToadSpawn Chapter 4

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ToadSpawn, Be Gone! the Exorcizm of GeorgeBush From America's Soul, a blogovel 

 

” … a mad dickensian masterpiece of serial venom..”

 

(You can check pogblog's Glossary on the Main Page on left under Topics, as necessary)

 

<?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />3:37:34a.pdt.us 06.13.05 12 The Road. Eb. Rattlesnake Tooth tzolkin 12 sunmon

 

Chapter 4 .. the Arsenic of ReligioPatriotism

 

    “Arsenic,” Myrth mused. “On Earth, about 120 years before the end of linear time in late 2011, women in England wanted a prized translucent-skin look, bluish, supernally, hauntingly perhaps necroishly nacreous, like fine porcelain. This eerie lucence was achieved by taking tiny doses of arsenic.”

   “You better remind our dear reader about the end of linear time before you finish up the arsenic story,” said Bleu. “Don’t be too alarmed, dear reader – or rather, do be alarmed, but be alarmed about the right thing. By the way, dear reader, how are you, you your very self this very hour? Treat yourself to something mildly wicked this 1400 minutes. You have 864,000 seconds in this daynight and they should preen and jolly you. Check out The Squirrels in ToadSpawn Appendixes if you need a tonic.”

     Myrth laughed, “The end of linear time. That’s a leitmotif of ToadSpawn Be Gone! Exorcize Mr. Bush. The Brimstoners would have you believe that it’s the ‘end of time,’ the ‘end of the world.’ Piffle. That’s Brimstoner cheap melodrama to keep the sheeps in the pews. Nope. It’s a sursurreal rollercoaster ride on Carnivale Earth, but it’s the end of the dominance of linear time, thru the neck of the hourglass into the jollier reaches of holospheric time. Or you might think of linear time’s having been the bud and holospheric time will be the blossom.

    “It’s vexing that you’re reading this just a few years before the blogovel technology allows your own name to appear where we say dear reader, but it would help if you could imagine that your name is also there when you see dear reader [dear reader Jamie; dear reader Jane; dear reader You] because ToadSpawn is one of the Handy Manuals for the coming time-rapids the Earth Adventure is going to go thru in the next decade. It will be funish or hellish depending on your preparation. It’s our job together to keep the 12ft tall Lizards from getting us down. Remember that Your Comments are ToadSpawn’s Appendix C! If you think you’re too shy or too technologically confused to join in, if you think you’re more comfy as a techno-wallflower, email pogblog@yahoo.com and she can get you situated with a Reader Account. We’re all in this together for fun or hell. Except for gratuitous attacks on the infamous Fuller, we know that pogblog prefers the fun option.

     “We’ll tell you more about ClownSchool InterDimensional along the way, but it’s one of ClownSchool InterD’s jolly jobs to get you to send your Inner Perfectionist on vacation to Fiji to chill out so you can take some perhaps small but significant steps in trusting and nurturing your own creative life. Your Inner Perfectionist should only whisper encouraging sweet nothings into your shell-like (ear), or you should fire that Inner Perfectionist and get a funnier, friendlier one.

    “So,” Myrth continued, “the fine ladies of olden times would take a grain or two of arsenic and with their skins so white they were tinct with blue, the arsenic ladies glowed all but radioactively. But – but there was a grisly price to pay for the slightest miscalculation: death. Similarly Religiousism and Patriotism must be taken in the tiniest doses or you will lethally poison your own consciousness — and often lay waste upon your neighbors.

    “Personally, I just avoid those arsenics entirely, but like any addictions, religiopatriotism is not just a fell morass muddying up the Wellies, but a mental and emotional quicksand which can suck you inexorably down and down. When you succumb to the adrenalins of religiopatriotism, the ground under you is not sturdy. You can find yourself hating a neighbor who embraces a different book. It’s a book! You can find yourself whooped up to kill folks in a neighboring nation. You can get your heart distances all screwed up. Compared to star M Dwarf Gliese 876, 75 trillion miles away, China is in the next room. Compared to the cold silent dust between the stars, anyone who’s heart beats is a brother. Light is colliding with you at 186, 000 miles per second – yet its illuminating impact is a caress of such complete sweetness that we welcome dawn, or we would welcome dawn if we hadn’t seen it in a year, with tears. Could we not touch each other’s hearts thus? Why not? If we grokked each other’s tentative, secret unbearable vulnerability, the fawn looking into the eyes of the wolf, should I not cascade you with honor? How not?

    “I myself do not have the ability to contain an iota of religiopatriotism without sliding into abstraction or division. My country. Your country. Only Jesus. Only Fill-In-The-Blank. Hungry Gods willing –or demanding – to eat dead children.”

        Myrth reached into the back pocket of her pink polka-dot jeans. She saw Quetzal glance at her tight levis and raise his eyebrows. “My little joke,” she shrugged. “Velv sent me an psymail for Chapter 4,” she said, and handed a shimmering paper to Quetzal to read out loud. Both he knew and she knew that she just liked to hear the sound of his voice when he wasn’t dueling. They spent most of their time dueling. Everything they did was fraught with assignation.

     “I fear 11/02 more than 9/11.” Quetzal read. “9/11 was a nasty day perpetrated by Insane Religious Zealots, IRZs. 11/02, the dismal day of the USofA Inc election is murkier, more hadal, perpetrated by IRZs blessed with armies, and marines, and air forces with dozens of death-wielding planes, helicopters, and tanks, instead of 3 commercial airliners, an unlimited number of molotov cocktail equivalents, rpgs, ieds, and IRZ suicidal youths willing to blow themselves to kingdom come, they hope, for 32 or 72 scantily-clad virgins, depending on which sect is making the offer. I’m not sure what our suicidal youth are willing to be blown up for (this is a third-rail topic), but as insane deals go, 72 virgins seems a more rational enticement to a 20-yr-old guy in heat than the old Big Lie, pro patria and a few strips of colored cloth mori. The hypnotic techniques are truly breathtaking. Boot camp, shave all the hair off (cf Samson), severe fraternity hazing, and the post-hypnotic suggestion is so powerful that people will kill for it and die for it. It’s satanic in sheep’s clothing.

    “Now, our side is noble — because we are better equipped to kill? What’s the equation here? What lethal mathematics apply? Once you’ve slipped inside the ‘It’s Not Murder, It’s War’ Bubble, you can ennoble hideous acts and excuse Gitgulag, and Abu and Bagram perversions. Our side, their side are both flayingly sad and vile.”

    Myrth shook her head and sighed, and they all four reached for the half-empty bottle of the USofA Inc export Sangre de Niños at the same time. “After you.” “No, after you.”

 

====

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6-20-05 2:06:30a.pdt.us  ….6 Rainstorm . Cauac . Redbird  tzol 19 sunmon

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Put An Icepick In Nice

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<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” />le Bleu = the Blue out of which come the comets of ideas; see pogblog's Glossary for fuller definition;

 

=======

Put An Icepick In Nice   

 

    A friend whom I treasure as much as one might treasure one’s next-to-last breath or the sudden sight of the red bird in the dogwood tree just after one first learned the word scarlet – a treasured friend knows to a tedium how beowulfianally besotted I am with assonance.

    When you’re standing on a cliff looking down way across a beach at the froth of breaking waves, you can perhaps hear the concussion, that muted thunder of the waves. You climb down a steep staircase of many small steps to the beach and make your way across the sand. Now after a wave crashes, that lace of foam that slides up the beach purrs over the small pebbles in a glistening glissando that you couldn’t hear from back up on the cliff. It is that woven song of more intimate sound that is assonance, the echoy sweet nothings of vowel sounds that privately and with wicked whisper seduce you.

   Staccato consonance is the other wing of alliteration, the condor of sound whose high flight mesmerizes the reader.

    So when le Bleu dropped the condor feather, “Drive an ice pick into the right eye of nice” at pogblog’s feet this morning as she went to hand out little pogblog posters at a farmer’s market, the assonance seemed whipped cream on the meringue of the deliciously unpleasant sentiment. Drive an icepick into the right eye of nice.

    Beowulf, the ancient epic, was addicted to alliteration. It’s like in the Depression of the 1930s – you had to put all the sugar you had into the teacake to show your hospitality. Alliteration showed that the poet bothered, cared fully that you’d come to visit.

    Of course in the mid-late 20th century, like the harsh architecture – gods forfend you have a turret – any playfulness with the language was haughtily frowned upon. (I am sure Hemingway shot himself in metaphysical recoil at being forced by the fashion he created to write another corseted sentence in a writer’s world in which slutty decoration had become sin. That puritanical tyranny of enforced spareness was an aridity that parched poor Ernest in the end and death became preferable to the desolation.)

   Anyhow, pogblog has a good friend we’ll call Velv Eeta who has gone out in a nearby city carrying a Teach Peace sign every day since <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />October 9, 2002. Velv has guts in her own doggéd, eccentric way. She says that a vesuvial irritation out on the protest-hustings is that if you say something tart, least of all a remark flagrant with battery acid, one of these birkenstock people will say, aggrieved as if deceived, “How can you carry that Teach Peace sign and be so mean? You should be nice.” No, the sign doesn’t say Teach Nice, you tepid cow. I’m out here every day nudging people to quit letting their tax dollars be spent on blowing kids’ faces off. That’s the not-nice to worry about. It’s about bombs, triple imbecile, not the normanrockwellian horrors of being compelled to listen to Larry Whelk with you.’ Velv doesn’t say that but it runs through her mind.

   “I know it’s awful,” Velv told me, “but I find myself longing to give them a single swift jab to the nose just to wake them from their cottoncandy daze”    

    What cathartic solace may a pacifist have except the stiletto satisfactions of verbal violence? (From which, unlike the bombs thing, the victim may rise from the crypt in the storied three days to have a banana split or mow the lawn.) Niceness can be a vice.

   Actually, most people aren’t smart enough, full of care enough to be skillfully, jocularly mean. Vile as an excess of belligerent niceness certainly is, the bludgeon most amateurs wield as wit is even worse. But we’ll flay them another day. Let’s stick with the nazis of nice for this tutorial in the glories of assonance.

    So, my devilish darling dervish, let’s drive an icepick into the right eye of nice, and all manner of things will be well.

========

 

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6-18-05 7:59:39p.pdt.us  ….4 Earth . Earthquake . Heron  tzol 17 sat

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Memogate .. actions, &, horribly, hope .. new link

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<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 06.17.05 dawn //06.18.05 3:32a.pdt.us

   Gosh, pogblog is severely undernapped. Ended up staying up all night watching the Conyers hearings and doing actions re Memogate.

   I’ll tell you more later, but in a thimble, Memogate is the building effort to start a Resolution of Inquiry wherein the Big Lies of the BushWhackos leading up to the Unnecessary War would be examined under oath and with subpoena power.

  The “Memos” are minutes of  high-level meetings leaked by some Brit deepthroat. The key being that the Memos say in living print that the intel should be “fixed” to fit the policy – months before they claimed they made the war decision.

 

 actions:

 

Hit the e-pavement for a while and look for ‘conyers hearing’ news items. The more this stuff gets clicked, the higher up the food chain it’ll bubble. If you, as an example, clik News on Google Search page, put conyers hearing in the search box, hit enter, and you’ll go to that news.

——

06.18.05 I just revisted Michael's site.

The Michael Moore site is brilliant in so many ways. They have a place where you can send an email that goes to all your very own Senate/House reps. It's bloody magic. It allows you toinclude a Comment to them. Ye owls, it's terrific. Go there or be square!

http://www.michaelmoore.com/

My blurb:
John Kennedy was shot on my birthday. It *matters* to me that our country is honorable. We must shine light on the Big Lies that led us into <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Iraq so we can get on with the single payer health care; multinational planet care; and a global human wage. (We should require by law that any elected official live on minimum wage and take public transportation for one week of every month of their term.)

 

Investigate the Downing Street Memos. Have the hearings in the basement room. Have them on the lawns in front of the Capitol if you must. (We should raise money online to help if necessary.) We must not be bamboozled by the Big Lies any more ever. Thank you.

““““““`

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

06.17.05

sign petition at

http://impeachcentral.com/ [Petition is on the left column of page, 4th button down.]

 

Contact your representative re impeachment also at http://impeachcentral.com/.

 

Here’s some contacts pog made last night.     

Democrats.com, the aggressive progressives

http://www.democrats.com/

Bob,

    I'm in California & still up at dawn. Oh, how I hate hope. I have hope this morning that Memogate may be the chink in the armor at LAST. And then we can get after a human wage; single payer health care; multinational planet care; & etc.

     I'm not sure I can stand the nerverackingness of hope. These 12ft lizards-in-human-disguise, as pogblog likes to satirize them, are so cunning. I thought nixon was bad; I thought reagan was bad. Nah, they were merely Minor League. These folks own menace. 

   Gosh I hope Memogate can get traction. THANKS for all you do. Stay strong.

pog  

===============

 

AfterDowningStreet.org — http://www.afterdowningstreet.org/index.php

Dear David,

I know you're swamped. I'll be quick.

   I'm submitting http://pogblog.myblogsite.com to join the AfterDowningStreet.org coalition.

   I suppose my biggest credential is that John Kennedy was shot on my birthday and that makes one profoundly political for a lifetime, trust me. Now I have that lifetime of experience as a grassroots political organizer, teacher of community tv, and political satirist.

   Pogblog supplies distilled good sense in an Absolut Venom mode. We supply a lot of Vitamin Irony and Vitamin Droll for the activist. Trenchant are us. There are political activists who need some comic fuel to keep their spirits bright. Tho brutally funny, pogblog is never cynical.

    I would love to join you. I think Memogate may be the chink in the armor at last. I have some very concrete ideas about progressives using community tv. But more on that later.

    Please enjoy the following vivifying confection from pogblog's Glossary:

LQ .. Lizard Quotient: If we say that Mr. Cheney’s LQ, or Lizard Quotient, is the platinum standard, a perfect 100, the Grand Imperial Lizard, the benchmark, then the rest of the Lizard Cabal ranks down in scalyness from that apogee.         

      When in the USofA Inc Nation, our Emperor George is defrocked in your insight, in her insight, in his insight, one by one we will see clearly that the ghastliness is that his naked scalyness is revealed. It’s like the Gorgon of yore, if you glance upon the unclothed Lizard, you may turn to stone. You will certainly be petrified. Better to keep your rose-colored glasses on. 

 

[This makes you queasy? Goes too far? What is far? Pogblog didn’t blow up any kids today on your behalf.]

====

Stay strong, David.

Thanks,

pogblog

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

pogblog@yahoo.com 

 
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6-16-05 7:49:03a.us.pdt  3 Owl . Cib . Vulture  tzolkin 16

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