Category Archives: Politics

Jane, the 3rd Coming .. the blood-drinking was a JOKE

Posted on by
1

Jane, the 3rd Coming .. the blood-drinking was a joke ..

.

   Jane never set out to be the 3nd Coming, anymore than she set out to be fat or a redhead. She chuckled frequently when she told Ace, her chubby chum, that she understood why Buddhaha had laid on the lard – it was the laugh ratio, the ratio of chuff to chaff. You can’t trust thin people to be seriously funny.

    Jane had met Ace when he’d interviewed her for Carpe Comedy, a holozine he started on 02.11.2011, at the height of the planetary turbulence. “Well,” said Jane The Messiah, “ever since they so screwed up the reporting on the 1st Coming and now there's the entirely unnoticed 2nd Coming — so we are never ever doing Coming gigs without holovideo. You gotta actually see my lips move so you can’t lie about what I said.

    “The Nazarene was an OK guy, but without the holovideo, he got seriously tabloided throughout a gore-fest of history that he never had in mind, nor in heart.

   “That whole eat-my-flesh, drink-my-blood thing was an inside joke to get some guffaws around the supper table! Only crazy people would, like, do it.

    “The point of the 1st Coming was supposed to be to perk up poor people – to sock it to the stupid greedy who were pointedly un-invited to the stupendous party in heaven.”

    “Mz Messiah – may I call you Jane? – are you going to offer a less distortable delusion to pleasure the masses.” 

      Jane gazed at Ace for the first time. Sexy. Very sexy, she thought idly.

    “A less distortable delusion. That’s our scheme, that’s our dream,” said Jane T. Messiah, laughing like a bowl of strawberry jello. “Not kill is, ah, hmmm, let's see — not kill. Not not kill with codicils. Not Not kill except if you've got on a different colored uniform (Murder by fashion offense?). Not not kill except when I hate your guts you stupid foreign (different [ skin; accent; taste in good cheese; quality of ululation. Check one]).  <?xml:namespace prefix = o />   

     “Thou shalt have much more fun. Thou shalt not interfere with the fun of thy neighbor or of thy enemy. The endlessly tedious & unfun white aka pink splotched christians in the USofA Inc left out the very very funny Gospel According to BeelzebuB, the only non-sycophantish, non-power-serving Gospel that J.C saved for his own scrapbook. The others he turned into confetti — 'Who writes this kind of pious rubbish? They should take their meds,' JC told me before he left soon after the denouement of the 1st Coming for a refreshing galactic gallivant. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

    “One of the white christians' 10 Greatest Sins — the real pornography — is that they are as terminally unfun as they are greedy. Note, Ace, that the ultra-holy Americans don't put the chiselled list of their 10 Greatest Sins of Seriousness on the CourtHouse Lawn.”

   Ace said, “By the way, all I ask is that in even years, we change out the word God for the word Zeus on money, prayers, and in any pledges of allegiance so us good American polytheists get our turn. Fair is Fair.”

    Jane impaled him with a green-eyed look. A nerve, he thought, I've struck a deitific nerve. He quickly said, “I hadn't heard of the Gospel According to BeelzebuB?” hoping to deflect a present but unclear danger.

     “Of course JC was a polytheist, Ace. Not that you could call him a theist really, but he sure was poly. Poly and pan. All of his frisky and cheerful and artist-eye stuff got cut out of everything but BeelzebuB's Gospel. All this monotheism crap was a pure power-grab by the 12ftTalk Lizards in Human Disguise of the day. Had there been the Cuneiform Times back when, the Country Club Set is pretty much the same from millennium to millennium. Especially the simply ghastly nouveau riche like your present Bushes. There's nothing so agonizingly awful than a parvenu. These pipsqueak people have no class, only faux piety and genuine pretension. How one's skin does crawl at the idea that they are allowed in the front parlour. They are all noise and graceless greed.

    “After a large and fattening lunch, we'll get to what a crock the creed of gigagreed is. But I want to say a bit more about poly and pan before smorgassnacks. Monotheism is as ugly an idea as ever reared its scaly head in the pantheon of Religious Wrong Turns. JC wasn't an Exclusiveist. Never. He was genuinely generous and gentle of mind. He knew that a simple holiness was tricky to come by and that everyone had one pretty piece of the Giant Spinning holoKaleidoscope. Nobody has it all. And nobody has none. Ye owls, Ace, I'm hungry. Waffles, eggs, bacon, syrup, himalayan amounts of butter, french toast stuffed with hell, and even an honest omelette to finish. Muy yum.”

 

…………….<^>……………..

………….<^>……………..

If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….….<^>……………..

♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫♪♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫♪♪

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

13  Serpent . Chicchan . East . tzol 65  08.05.05 fri

♫ffsk 790  8783§24d8h36m59s ikhoudvanu ♫

..

the pro-peace world begins today with you

………….<^>……………..

the Dark Heartlessness .. the horror, the horror

Posted on by
3

the dark Heartlessness,

 the horror, the horror

in two parts       

 

 

     It is with woe that I confess to you that I had a hidden prejudice that I harbored all my life that came with karmic stealth back to bite me in my achilles heel a few years ago.

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

    I grew up in the American South when there were still water fountains that said ‘Colored’ and ‘White.’ I was luckily born knowing that that was balderdash. I didn’t have any of the reigning festering hates of my time. But there was one determined secret grudge I held: I could not forgive ‘the good Germans’ for not standing up and speaking out against the rising murderous fascist tide, especially before the tide of blood got too deep for many to withstand. Why, I would inquire of myself in anguished inner inquiry, Why did they not stand up, not speak out?

    A few years ago, my breath was sucked out of my lungs in a karmic coincidence, my poor head caught between two giant invisible cymbals — lo, symbols – a silent percussive concussion, one cymbal from my uncompassionate past judgment and the other my own very self standing there on the street in GeorgeKarlCondiRumsDickica, a ‘good American.’ Now I knew how it happened to the ‘good Germans.’

     What are we ‘good Americans’ doing? $14000 a minute is being spent on the fantasy Missile Crackpot Scheme aka Star Wars. $200,000 a minute is being spent on the Iraqiazation Miazma. Dwight Eisenhower warned about the Father of this  TheoMonoMonstroColossus. He spoke of the Military Industrial Complex and that has gigantized into a Theofascist Corporate Complex, a goliath against which we must david.

   So I was chastened enough and on 10.09.02, 1031 days ago, I started walking out a little every damn day with my 16”x18” teach peace sign on a 4' 7″ stick. Yes, of course I felt like a bloody idiot when I began, but now I feel dumber when I don’t carry it.   

  Good Germans stood by. Good Muslims are standing by. Good Americans are standing by. Good Christians are standing by. It aztek-rips my living heart from my chest that we decent enough ordinary folk are not standing up for simple and shared Pursuit of Happiness with a living wage and universal healthcare and spectacular free education for every child.

     Write a one-paragraph Letter to the Editor of your most local pennysaver paper — dying for opinions to print. Short is the key. 

~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~.

    When I read a gruesome quote from our Lizard Leader, “See, in my line of work you got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda,” my blood coagulates. 'Catapult the propaganda'! Or “You work three jobs? … Uniquely American, isn't it? I mean, that is fantastic that you're doing that.” —George W. Bush, to a divorced mother of three, <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Omaha, Nebraska, Feb. 4, 2005. Then  I feel like my head is in some boschian horizontal pinwheelily spinning like I think may have happened in some Horror Movie I missed.

     Hey, it's not like I'm some stinking amateur in political Horror. JFK murdered on my birthday and the whole ensuing list of death and outrages stealing from a shared Pursuit of Happiness we might have embarked on had Kennedys (J & B) lived; Martin lived; Jimmy, Walter, Michael — all smart & decent & not GigaGreedy. Dear Bill & Hillary, I am a devotee. And Al an environmentalist who Yes, GOT the internet (We'd clearly have universal healthcare and universal wifi by now.)

 

Instead, horrible ole Tricky (& Henry the K, a minion-creep); Ronald who made the first big fateful TheoFascist Bargains; Dad George had horrible slithery underlings (Dick & slithery ilk), and as Ann the Divine said, “George was born on third base and thought he hit a triple.”

 

It was bad enough I thought — the horror, the horror outside a book — but little did I know the Dark Heartlessness to come.

 

I'm a tough old buzzard, but these Present Menaces have got me spooked.

 

Not that I don't get up every day and fight the 12ftTall Lîzards Disguised as Human Beings Who Purport to Lead Us.

 

with all the unquenchable spunk I can muster,

pogblog 

 

..^..^…^..^..^..^..^..^…^..^..^..^..^..^..^  

 

…………….<^>……………..

………….<^>……………..

If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words;

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

12 Lizard . Kan . South . tzol 64  08.04.05 thur

♫ffsk 790  8783§24d8h36m59s ikhoudvanu ♫

..

the pro-peace world begins today with you

………….<^>……………..

Giga-politics .. humans as galactic pets

Posted on by
7

Giga-politics ..

humans as galactic pets
 

Dan Gero’s Interim Evaluation

Regarding Terran Incarnates

Report to the South Mars Gazette

08.03.05
 

    Presently Terran Incarnates have no inherent rights under Galactic Law. Presently Terran Incarnates have no inherent rights under Galactic Law. Only recently have Incarnates developed sufficient consciousness to be considered galactics rather than merely humans, the galactic slang for clever pets.    

     The raging Question that divides the Galactic Council is where the line is drawn for full sentience privileges. Terrans have been considered spiritual chattel, and few of these Earthers are given more than minimal attention by their occasionally resident Ethereal or Noncarnate. Among those rare earnest Ethereals who do bother to honor and tend their Terrans, there is an outcry against Incarnate abuse — abuse of the human creature 
    Most other Ethereals are indifferent to the well-being of their Terran hosts. Many Ethereals use Incarnates or solid Earth bodies as an amusement ride or as an experiment. Too few bother to weave a mutuality of experience that gives a steady and reliable élan to the Earthbound.
    It is inconvenient to tend your Terran creature. Their reaction time is slow. They do not speak Galactic which is an holographic multi-dimensional oneiro-language. Terrans can be — well, usually are — stubborn and sulky, and, in relative terms, it must be admitted that they are one degree or another of just plain stupid.
    It is hard to resist wanting to see them react in a frenzy to the most simplistic propaganda. It is especially fun to give them a jolt of cupid juice and watch them make fawning fools of themselves. If you have not forged an irrevocable empathetic bond, it is easy to dismiss them as a gaggle of clever geese.
    At best, most of the multitude of Ethereals can be brought to pity these Terran beasts, these vessels, but damn few respect the creatures.
    It is the contention of the Sentient Rights Party that Ethereals should be denied access to a personal Terran unless the Ethereal is willing to have some training and to sign a set of Incarnate Interaction Guidelines the flaunting of which incurs genuine repercussion.    The kind of behavior suitable and amusing in a disembodied or ethereal condition can be from hurtful to grotesque in the solid terrestrial state.

 

Get this point — you careless Ethereals:

 heed it, grok it —

 

The kind of behavior suitable and amusing in a disembodied or ethereal condition — in oneiro-density — can be from hurtful to grotesque in the solid terrestrial state.

 

     Spiritual physics and spiritual psychology are very different in density, intensity, and consequence from those of the solid Earth Realm, and the Ethereal who thinks the Terran can recover from mayhem, mutilation, and misery with the quickness that it does in the more protean, less-dense lands is deluding itself.
    You enjoy the Terrans’ augmented sensitivity, and though you can, you may not torment these tender creatures for your own kicks. Perhaps worse is the boredom you inflict on your Terran partner when you erratically withdraw your attention in order to pursue quicker, slicker galactic games.
    No one requires that you partner a solid realm Terran, but if you do, you must comprehend at least the rudiments of how they experience time. To you, time is in most regards ephemeral and holospheric, a quixotic erotic zephyr. To them it is largely sequential, a river, and what to you would seem sluggish.
    If you spend some least effort, Terrans can learn some of your quicksilver ways, and you for your part can swim in delicious thick water that could actually drown you. The consequences of ethereal action and of the more dense incarnate action are so different. You give Terrans glimpses of a quicksilver and golden life and they call you angels who live in heaven and you are so flattered that you accept the superiority and bask in their adulation when in fact Terrans are better, more accomplished and more gifted and doggèd in their own dense realm than you can ever be.
    If Terrans had full Sentient Rights, if they joined the Galaxy, you could speak together in respect, you could each impart your special knowledge. Incarnate abuse poisons the whole Galaxy in the end. Incarnate abuse cannot be kept a filthy little backwater-world secret forever. It stains our souls.
    You don’t care if you slaughter them in warring herds, crush and splinter them in car wrecks, twist them with disease. It’s all a frisson to you: you get a buzz from their flood of adrenalin. You are detached from their terror; they are embedded in it.
    It is that creature’s only direct life, and there ought be limits to how you toy with that precious span. Terrans have become sufficiently sentient to deserve Galactic recognition as Sentients with Protected Rights.    Early on, it was a cool trick to inhabit the more dense realms and to discover the particular spectrum of experience that a solid body and linear experience gives. As the creatures developed culture, civilization, and history, you shifted from being their masters to being their partners, or those without hellish arrogance did. It became their world while we weren’t watching.
    The ethereal experience may be the pearl in the oyster, but when you’re hungry, it’s the oyster itself that gratifies.

…………….<^>……………..

………….<^>……………..

If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” />

………….….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words. 

♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫♪♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫♪♪

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

11 Night . Akbal . Hearth . West . tzol 63  08.03.05 wed

♫ffsk 884  8783§24d8h36m59s ikhoudvanu ♫

..

the pro-peace world begins today with you

………….<^>……………..

The Anti-Christ Nation

Posted on by
2

The Anti-Christ Nation

appendix J, ToadSpawn, Be Gone!
   

     Where the Rub is – the Unholy Alliance between Golden Calf-ism, that Obscene Creed of GigaGreed, and the Wicked Uber-Patriotic Violence is the Anti-Christ or the Anti-Christ-Equivalent. Like brave, baffled Bill McKibben (Harpers Aug 05¹) and Bill Moyers, moderate Christians must speak out against these fundamentalist and extremist quintessential perversions of their potentially sweet and modest faith. And if in an inflated moment, Jesus said he was the only way, he was mistaken. There are perspectives few 32 yr-old can have, however inspired.

    One tiny revelation, one brave sentence at a time, moderates have got to put the Christ back in Christian – not as a tedious mantra but in acts that Jesus would be proud of.

     The imagination quails – shrinks back, shudders – at the violence of the delusion, the wickedness, the nastiness, the awful arrogance of our present Golden-Calf-ridden Nation. Christ would certainly be turning over in his grave if he were still there. Looking at it from the Anti-Christ angle, one trembles at the audacity of it (By the way, Karlsputin Rove³ was born on December 25, 1950 if you want an Absolut Reba’s Baby³ moment of chilling synchronicity tinct with frostbites of ironies.) Look at the conversion of GeorgeBush, Barbara’s Baby, from alcoholic to christoholic. It’s the same addiction circuits.

       I’m saying that Bill McKibben’s ‘The Christian Paradox¹, How a faithful nation gets Jesus wrong,’ like Martin Luther nailing his 95 theses to the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Wittenberg church door, is one of the most important watershed moral upheavals of our generation. An avowed Christian insider, one of the 85% of American professed-Christians, a conscientious objector, has broken-heartedly spoken out. He has flinched at the glaring, blaring sight, insight of each scene of carnage, the unChristian, the anti-Christian acts and non-acts done in the name of a tortured version of Jesus. McKibben has flinched at the terrible pain, as one must, but leaving distinct footprints of blood with each sentence, he has honorably taken the awful journey to bring his fellow Christians the unspeakable truth of what is and is not being done in their name. He kept Jesus’ radical and fierce sweetness, the uncompromisable kindness as his only compass on this harrowing Hell-journey.

   The radical vision of Jesus was to be tender – that we tend our fellows, tend our earth, our earth is our hearth. Like opening the 3rd eye, Jesus blew open the sealed doors to the heart and left us naked and gentle in the face of each other, each brother, all kin, all kind. Daring to be tender, the power in powerlessness was the gift Jesus gave, the unconditional surrender to being tender. How few jesusians there have ever been through these centuries. The satanic bargain with worldly power slammed shut those gates to the heart. Kindness became slogans not acts.

    As an interesting sidebar, I’m not sure that the word ‘Christian’ has not become too poisoned to associate with anymore? That much carnage, that much hypocrisy, that much burning of other visions and traditions. Too deep in blood. Myself, I would not bear that word. It’s on the scale that if the word ‘Nazi’ had begun benign, it’s too steeped in blood to keep it.

    McKibben’s ‘The Christian Paradox, How a faithful nation gets Jesus wrong,’ opens the heart’s door to moderate Christians to begin humbly talking about acts, as moderate Muslims must do about suicide bombers. Where’s the living wage? Where the spectacular education we owe to each child as a birthright, not a richesright? Where is the splendid health care we owe to our beloved brother and who is not our beloved brother, sister, mother, son, daughter? Acts. Jesus would fly a bomber and drop jellied gasoline on his brother, his sister? No. The madness must be woken from. If it is not tender, if it is not tending your friend, your fragile, frightened friend spinning in the same gigantic dark as you, if it is not the tender choice, don’t dare do it. Don’t Jesus and the Good Samaritan say that every person is your friend? The radical calculus is to figure out how to step aside from revenge. Alchemy. Turn rage to courage. Greed to kindness.

    There is nothing Jesus would recognize in perpetuating the obscene tax cuts for the eye-of-the-needle folk. They sneer, They dwell in contumely – they are swollen up with snarling pride. They do not rush to comfort.

      The Democrats are an ungainly bunch but they are trying to combine mind and heart, to bring the tender to bear on policy. It’s all very awkward because mind matter and heart matter are of different substance and frequency, but that is the path and there is no shirking that mystery in the end. It’s where we go. We might as well get started.  

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


………….<^>……………..
If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com
………….<^>……………..
It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.
………….<^>……………..
t (Please check pogblog Glossary for unfamiliar & coined words.) 
tDo subscribe to Harper’s Magazine. 15 bucks a year. Brilliant.
¹Bill McKibben, The Christian Paradox
¹(Just change the word ‘Zeus’ for the word ‘God’ in prayers, commandments, and on the money and see how that hubbub quiets down. Every year a different prayer, commandments, money deity by lot. Fair’s fair. All comics like me ‘n Riffie will go for Beelzebub, the buffoon’s patron. What a droll name. In Beelzebub, we trust. Thou certainly shalt not take the name of Beelzebub in vain.)
³ Reba’s Baby. Reba is Karlsputin mother’s name; cf Rosemary’s Baby. See also Karlsputin in pogblog Glossary.
~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~
copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved
Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:
http://pogblog.myblogsite.com
9 Alligator . Imix . Turtle . East . tzol 61  08.01.05 mon
♫ffsk 790  8783§24d8h36m59s ♫
..
the fiercely pro-peace world
begins today with you
………….<^>……………..  
 

FixedIntelGate .. our bloodless coup

Posted on by
1

(Please check pogblog Glossary for unfamiliar & coined words.)

 

David's pebbles against Goliath's flak .. 

our bloodless coup ..

 

Great friend of pogblog, chancelucky, was thoughtfully lamenting the gigaspurt-and-blurt of info on X & Y & Z subjects in the media and on the internet perhaps past any reason. I would like to send this open letter in general defiance of that attractive but flawed position.   

 

At first site, I mean sight, chancelucky, your eloquent argument is ludditily¹ soothing,  but having been as obsessed as could be about the FixedIntelGate¹ (Rove; Downing St Memo &c), I have to defiantly disagree, finally.

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

We're in our infancy against a savage and perfected Republican and White House Predator Information Machine, but the future is very much at stake. I'm proud and happy to be part of  the noosphere¹, the living-knowledge sphere.

 

This treacherous Administration is on its 2nd four years of consolidating obscene wealth in the already grotesquely rich; despoiling the shared environment of the spaceship; spending $14000 a minute on the fantasy Missile Crackpot Scheme aka StarWars; $200,000 a minute on the Iraq Quagmire; and more costs in lack of splendid education and lack of splendid universal healthcare than we can count.

 

They fixed the intel to fit the policy. It's taking time on the blogbrain for this to get out, for the new synapses to stabilize, for the hypnotized and bought 'media' to get corrected and re-corrected. If it were not for the noosphere Internet obsession, FixedIntelGate would have vanished long since and Goliath's Hummerjuggernaut would be rolling over more of the few stalwart bodies who would continue to squawk.

 

Watching and feeling and participating in the slowly accreting and concerting noosphere action — quite symphonic really — as it blooms has been thrilling and important.

 

We're refining our David against Goliath tactics, and tho there is a fair amount of inconvenient and even annoying redundancy, the Lizards have learned long ago about the importance of “It's the repetition, stupid.” Just like in kindergarten. We need to learn to do it too.

 

Pogblog, for instance, has been spreading the idea that we never say 'billion,' a dirigible ho-hum floating word, but rather always $1000 million dollars, about which people invariably gasp. Try it out around the water cooler. I have learned to say it cost $14000 a minute for stupid Star Wars. I just learned to add that we're paying $200,000 a minute for the Iraq Debacle. It takes time to refine. The Lizards have every issue in a fortune cookie.¹ Remember No New Taxes? This is the spaghetti that sticks to the ceiling and we progressives have got to learn to do it better.   

 

We're getting better issue by issue as we get email alerts and learn how to consume the blogosphere info.

 

I think FixedIntelGate is where the Internet has proved its chops against the consolidation of massive communication power and I hope we only get more obsessed and more quick and more refined.

 

More and more people will learn to participate and to make the succinct comment that distills a point or nudges in a direction. Only perception and clarity and synthesizing ability will matter eventually. 

 

I think FixedIntelGate is a bloodless coup in the making. I think truth is gaining momentum against the Big Lies.¹ I think this is actual democracy on the hoof. Like a new-born foal, our legs are a little wobbly, but like Secretariat, our heart is huge and when we grow up, we'll run like the wind.

…………….<^>……………..

………….<^>……………..

If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….….<^>……………..

¹ (Please check pogblog Glossary for unfamilar words.)

~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.

chancelucky's blog

~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.~..~.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

8 Light . Ahau . Flower . South  tzol 60  07.31.05 sun

♫ffsk 394  8783§24d8h36m59s♫

..

the pro-peace world begins today with you

………….<^>…………….. 

Judith Miller Drinks KoolAid — The Unsung Sin of FixedIntelGate

Posted on by
4

Judith Miller Drinks KoolAid —

The Unsung Sin of FixedIntelGate

     Remember Chalabi? The re-Rise of that Snake, that Crook Chalabi is appalling.

    What never gets told in the nefarious FixedIntelGate is that Ahmad Chalabi is the Svengali, the rotten manipulating liar, the chalabi, and the snake who charms the snake charmers. Like quisling, chalabi should become an ordinary lowercase word of indelible infamy. Chalabi was the guy who fed barely cooked lies to the eager Bush neocon America Imperium Hubrisites.

     What never gets told is that Chalabi’s Lying Cabal of supposed defected or escaped informants told quickly-swallowed-whole Lies to Dick Cheney, his champion, and then to Judith Miller about supposed exact locations of Weapons of Mass Destruction (a terrifying phrase, gods know). I remember Dick on some show saying in effect, ‘We have precise intelligence about where Saddam is hiding chemical and biological weapons and labs, weapons of mass destruction. We have actual addresses.’ The implication was that Intelligence had the specific addresses not from these opportunistic conmen (as we found out much too much later when grimly too late the proper in-depth, less credulous reporting was finally done), but from men sold as heroic escapees. Chalabi made sure they each had an harrowing, usually blood-curdling story even if as it often much later turned out, they hadn’t set foot in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Iraq for a decade. The Weapons of Mass Destruction were at 1239 Al-Rashid Blvd, 2466 Khulafa Ave., 791 Rabia St., 1438 Al Thawra St., 12379 Qutaiba St. — in the basement, in the back courtyard, in the shed. In the palace buried under the cistern. When they weren’t in one of those also never-found sinister mobile labs being ever shuttled around the dunes.

    Remember this is before the war when to everyone’s flabbergasted surprise, Saddam was jujitsuily letting inspectors go wherever they wanted to go. (One of the great Reptilian Big Lie Talking Points still to this day is that Saddam refused to let the inspectors inspect. That had been true years earlier, but was not true in this time frame.)

     The sleight-of-hand was that we could have sent the inspectors to all those basements and secret rooms at the ‘specific addresses.’ We could have revealed that no WMD existed before the war if we had waited even a month because the inspectors were proving and proving daily that no WMD was where it was supposed to be. The inspectors could have run the whole table of addresses of these supposed “secret” caches of  weapons of mass destruction before the war, but I believe that NeoCon Boys duped Judith Miller et al, but didn’t drink their own KoolAid. They wanted to get the war well begun before too many questions were awkwardly asked. And the doubts suddenly cast by Mr. Wilson on July 06, 2003 struck a raw nerve about FixedIntel, intel fixed to fit the policy as the Downing Street Memo calls it – which Mr. Wilson called ‘intelligence twisted to exaggerate the threat.’

     Judith Miller goes way up the Food Chain of Lies in terms of contacts. Subverting the New York Times was a great coup for the mongrel Mongers of War. (The NYT apologized for 13 gullible articles, 10 of which were written by Ms. Miller.)

     I wonder who up the Food Chain of Lies is letting her rot in jail to cover His janus-faces &/or rump?

.~..~. .~..~. .~..~. .~..~. .~..~. .~..~. .~..~.

 

What I Didn’t Find in Africa  .. Joe Wilson;

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

Chalabi emerges, once again .. Hannah Annam;

 

pict of ‘Rummy’ being Chummy with Saddamie;

…………….<^>……………..

………….<^>……………..

If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

………….….<^>……………..


copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved
Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:
http://pogblog.myblogsite.com
7 Rainstorm . Cauac . Redbird . West  tzol  59  07.30.05 sat
♫ffsk 523  8783§24d8h36m59s
..
the pro-peace world begins today with you
………….<^>……………..

Militant Pacifism & Cheney's Law, the National Child Mutilator Registry .. Toad Spawn, Be Gone! .. Exorcize Prez. Bush .. Chapter 6

Posted on by
7

Toad Spawn, Be Gone! the Exorcizm of George Bush from America's Soul

 

Chapter 6 .. Militant Pacifism & Cheney's Law, the National Child Mutilator Registry ..


    Professor Quetzal said, “We better enlist our readers in the Child Mutilator Registry campaign. Child Molestation is self-evidently grotesque. Children should be left to cheerful, raucous abandon without fear of being furtively pawed by some cretinous aging drooler.

    “However, one-to-one in seriously sick from the ethical perspective is the Child Mutilator. Until our Leaders and their Fervent Followers, the Killer 12ftTall Lizards in Human Disguise are mellowed, for our own protection we must have a National Child Mutilator Registry. If you have mutilated a child or mafially contracted to have a child mutilated on your behalf, we need to know so we can keep our uninfected cheerful clown children from your virulently contagious influences. At least until we develop the vaccine. Sadly, many of your diseases are hot-airborne. We do not want our delightstruck clown children paralyzed and disfigured by the botulisms of your creeds and greeds.

    “You cry, ‘It’s in a good cause, these wars!’ The mutilation of a child can not be in a good cause, ipso facto. Child molestation is supremely disgusting, but if you can go one boschian rung lower on the ladder of ice down into cold Hell, Child Mutilation is one re-eat your-own-vomit degree of more sickening.

    “At least the Child Molester has to be faced with his own disfigured self-loathing in the mirror every morning when he shaves.”

      The Blue interrupted, “Unless he’s a taliban child molester who never shaves.”

    “Goaaal!” said Salma Nella whose hatred of religiopatrio chest-thumping hypocrisies was ivory – 99.666% pure.

    Quetzal smiled that smile to which Myrth was addicted. For the sake of the joke you had to maintain a deadpan, but with the faintest northernlights of extra glow in the aura around his face and an extra burnish of the mischief in his brown eyes, Quetzal nodded the wry nod.

    “The Child Mutilator wants some anodyne layers of denial between him:or:her and the brain-exploding acts they are allowing in their name. The mafia does contract hits so the blood-splatter evidence is on someone else’s cheap suit. But the Mutilated-Children karmic score goes in your column, pilgrim, by not one digit less. A child:mutilation is a child:mutilation is a child:mutilation. You can’t pretty it up unless you’re depraved or insane.

    “If I have to live next door to someone willing to call child-mutilating collateral damage, I want to know.

    “If you in your hometown take a grenade and throw it at a child or mow them down with an M16UziAK47, you go to jail, get battered with outrage and shunning, get wired up in the fry chair and e-lek-tro-cuted. If the mutilated child is exactly the same End, but your Means is a noble son dropping a bomb from 10,000 ft or mowin’ ’em down with the M16UziAK47, you get parades, holidays, and sousa music? You do go to Karmic Jail, and it’s a profound security prison, let me tell you, and that is a faint solace for us. If you had to touch them as they died; if you had to push their wheel chair; if you had to look over their shoulder into the same mirror as them as they have to see every day that they’ll never be pretty again; if you had to sit with them as they watch unmutilated kids play basketball or soccer. The jury that judges you is dead children, pilgrim. Not the protoplasmic jelly in the womb you so luridly defend, but the once-leaping, once-laughing, once-hopscotching whose hullabaloo and delicious lives you spindled, mutilated, folded, and collateralized.”

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

…………….<^>……………..

………….<^>……………..

If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

6-23-05 02:20a.pdt.us 9 Wind. Ik . Whirlwind  wedthur

ffwofw

..

the pro-peace world begins today with you

………….<^>……………..

 

NOTE: Cheney's Law as the moniker for pogblog's Campaign to Inititate a National Child Mutilator's Registry is the tangent off a chancelucky(http://chancelucky.blogspot.com/) coinage of Reagan's Law as its moniker, better in many ways but I decided not poisonously immediate enough. Chancelucky is a frequent pogblog commentator. Reagan's Law was a felicitous phrase indeed and as Digrif noted “pitchperfect.”

==

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

Political Meth and Crop Circles

Posted on by
5

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

Political Meth and Crop Circles

 

   Now a lot of you political junkies are used to pogblog’s political meth so don’t get whiplash withdrawal here. The whole point of the political hyper-alert and super-zing of synapses is to end up with our pretty planet being more just and generous and cheerful, saving savagery for satire and Grand Theft Auto. So we can end up having lots more art and lots more sloth. The greatest sloth for the greatest number. At least that’s a part of my subtext. Integrate lucid waking and lucid dreaming and enter the holospheric future that’s coming whether we like it or not. Clutching onto linearity and excess-stored wealth will look quaint in 50 years. Invest across the multi-dimensional boards in any-&-every thing holo.You’ll get rich in all the ways that matter. Really. The linears lose.   

     I like to think you find the best political invective on the planet on pogblog – what some nice person called an alloy of platinum and plutonium — but it’s meant to be usefully ruthless, not just jerkoff self-indulgent. Analysis should be bloody fascinating to read as well as ice-pick piercing. We’re not giving up on scathe and flay til we have a bountiful minimum wage, more sloth, and stop calling nationally-sanctioned child mutilation in foreign countries ‘collateral damage.’

    Luckily unlike the Wretched Fevered Theofascist Opposition, we can chew gum and walk at the same time. So I hope pogblog’s earned enough linear cred from you to give this crop circle entry a one-time try before you clik out. I know you think it’s all crap. But suppose it isn’t? The inescapable point is, is that it is the most glorious modern art on the planet however it gets here. At least go look once and then decide. You can go look and come back here or read this to inform your looking. Scroll down to the middle of the Crop Circle Connector page and clik on early July.

    So unclench your brain and let’s think energetics. Wheat and barley and butterflies and you and me and parrots all store and transform the energy, the radiance, of the central sun. We’re nifty alchemists on the hoof (cloven for the Republicans) or on the wing or in our kernels. Humankind and humanunkind have stored more knowledge energy per unit than ever before in ourstory. Part of the all-but-weightless massive and magnificent patterned energy accumulation is in our memories of art.

      Sometimes on a very hot day you can go outside and feel the pressure of sun upon yourself. Sometimes when I go to the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Museum of Modern Art and stand stunned in the room with Thiebault or Klee or Miro or Rembrandt or a Michaelangelo Pieta, I feel the pressure of the art upon me. My all-but-weightless mind stuff is impacted, is alchemically changed and rearranged but not of stuff on a periodic chart, but a stuff none the less also real.  

     The crop circles are pattern-stuff-shifters. Now, you can be more conscious of what’s happening to your self-substance when you engage with art and crop circles, or you can piffle out. We haven’t got instruments (other than our own brains and skin &c) to measure this all-but-weightless interaction yet, but we can attest to it. If you haven’t gone and looked at a dozen crop circles yet, do it now or you’ll dwell in unswell ignorance because we’re going to take a quantum leapfrog here.

      Now that you’ve seen the touching and glorious crop circles and been frankly amazed and startled and less dogmatic (unless you’re dumb or zomboid), consider that these astonishing and simply huge works of art tweak your dna. By seeing them, your energy absorption capacities, you as capacitor as it were, are spatially enlarged. The way I like to think about is that you can absorb or discern more colors of blue, say. As the Eskimos have 25 words for snow, you in collaboration with your fabulous space suit can operate in more ranges of ‘colors.’ The crop circles are like hieroglyphs (oneiroglyphs really) that impress or tattoo or brand your energy self with an increased alchemy-aesthetic capacity. This isn’t trivial. It allows you to arrange and form and transform much more data. Hamburger data, icecream data (i.e. kinesthetically stable data); emotional data (a different frequency that intellectual data); cultural data; and so on. You’re being eased into becoming a more super-bio-computer than you already fabulously are.

     The crop circles are part of the keys of flame that are igniting a quantum jump in spherical consciousness. To glimpse this, imagine any crop-circle as a crop-sphere and let it zephyrically rotate around you or if that’s too big a spheric leap, imagine it outside yourself as if that particular pattern were gently shifting like a spherical kaleidoscope. That way you can get more used to flying around in the upcoming energy like a parrot instead of cowering underground eating roots and dead spiders like a Republican or a mole.

…………….<^>……………..

………….<^>……………..

If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

ffwofw

..

the pro-peace world begins today with you

………….<^>……………..

Karl Rove .. “Where conscience forbids most others . . .”

Posted on by
4

Update on FixedIntelGate & Mr. Rove's Satanism:

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

     I saw Mr. McCain on BeachBall when he lost even the seed-corn of his soul. He parrots the RNC (Reptilian National Committee) Talking Points about Joe Wilson and FixedIntelGate as if he had a key to turn in his yellow-striped back. He lived through prisoner of war camp hell to throw away his moral compass now? The bloodsplatter of corruption this White House has despoiled so many people with is boschian¹.

     As Jay Inslee (D Washington) said about our going to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Iraq under false pretences which is the hub of this FixedIntelGate  wheel, “In Watergate, nobody died.”)

 

      I vividly remember a candidates' panel that Larry King had on after South Carolina in the run-up to the 2000 coronation. John McCain was so angry at George Bush for the pushpolling character assassination orchestrated by the utterly-ugly-of-souless Karl Rove and his other vicious early proto-swiftboatian tactics that McCain was leaning white-faced and hissing across the anchor desk, “You should apologize, George. You know what I mean. You should apologize, George.” etc. Then on BeachBall a few days ago, he just shrugs it off!?

 

I terrified the cats so much rage did I hurl at the tv. I stamped around the living room slavering I gotta say. I thought maybe McCain or Hagel would have a vertebra if not a spine.

 

The two missing pieces I am crazed to know are who asked Marc Grossman to ask Carl Ford to do the State Department Memo? (I recall a long time ago that Joe Wilson said that he still had friends in the 'business' who told him that 'the White House had asked for a work-up on Wilson' — I  sort of recall the work-up being posited as being that March or April 2003, not the June 10 date?) My gloss on the idea of 'work-up' is that it sounded like some j:edgar:hoovery Get The Dirt or the Lever kind of thing. That's the piece I want to know about.

 

And who in the heck is Judy Miller protecting? Whoever it is is just letting her stew in jail. Could it be whoever foie-gras force-fed her that convincing villain Chalabi to whom we really owe all of this fantasy cum nightmare in the Cradle?

 

I heard as a total rumor that Fitzgerald knows who her source is but needs her to say it in order to proceed or prosecute?

 

In an article in the Atlantic Nov 2004, Josh Green talks about Karl Rove’s willingness, as a few examples among many, to start a whisper campaign in Texas to smear Ann Richards as being a lesbian and lesbian sympathizer, [stupid] anathemas in the back country of  the Lone Star State. A pushpolling in South Carolina calling Mrs. Cindy McCain a drug addict and Mr.McCain, the ‘father’ of a black baby. (They adopted a child from Bangladesh actually.) “‘What Rove does,’ says Joe Perkins, ‘is try to make something so bad for a family that the candidate will not subject the family to the hardship. Mark is not your typical Alabama macho, beer-drinkin', tobacco-chewin', pickup-drivin' kind of guy. He is a small, well-groomed, well-educated family man, and what they tried to do was make him look like a homosexual pedophile. That was really, really hard to take.’
    “Rove seems to understand—indeed, to count on—the media's unwillingness or inability, whether from squeamishness, laziness, or professional caution, ever to give a full estimate of him or his work. It is ultimately not just Rove's skill but his character that allows him to perform on an entirely different plane. Along with remarkable strategic skills, he has both an understanding of the media's unstated self-limitations and a willingness to fight in territory where conscience forbids most others.” 

“Where conscience forbids most others.”


…………….<^>……………..
………….<^>……………..
If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com
………….<^>……………..
It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.
………….….<^>……………..
Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.
copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved
Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:
http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

2 Jaguar . Ix . Ocelot . Panther . North  tzol 54  07.25.05  mon  ffsk 616 8783§24d8h36m59s.. the pro-peace world begins today with you

………….<^>…………….. 

WalktheTalk Solution to the daily hell of poverty

Posted on by
1

WalktheTalk Solution .. ToadSpawn, Be Gone! Appendix T 

  

    My solution is simple. Let each paid elected citizen-servant from the president to the mayor live on minimum wage and take public transportation for one week of each month for the duration of their term. You’re too important? Nope. Don’t like it? Don’t run for office. (By the way, there won’t be any hoarding Samuel Adams for the WalktheTalk Week. You drink what you can afford that week.) Hard on the kids is it? Yeah, well.

    How fast do you think our leaders would change the minimum wage and the frequency of trains and buses? Yes, within a year society would be magically transformed. (We could always start with using that pesky $14000 a minute 24/7 we’re spending on the fantasy Missile Crackpot Scheme aka StarWars.)

   WalktheTalk Week. That’s the solution. Let’s gander at a snapshot of the problem. As of 07.22.05, in Ciudad Acuña, at the Alcoa maquiladoras (assembly plants), you make $1.21 an hour according to Bill Tucker’s report on Lou Dobb’s Business Show. You work six days a week. You may be lucky enough to live in a really horrible hovel instead of a refrigerator cardboard box. (In 1999, Mr. O’Neill, Alcoa’s ceo, who went on to become Mr. Shrub’s Secretary of Treasury until the neocons over-disgusted him, ‘had exercised $33 million in stock options beyond his $3 million salary.’)

    No one can live on the meager (emaciated) wages the actual workers make, but, God be praised, you can go across the river to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Eagle Pass, Texas and sell your blood for $45 a week for pin money. Alcoa says they are very “aggressive in cost containment.” Yep. Now, if you are a troublemaker and you don’t like this what-the-word-exploitation was invented for, they remind you that they can go to Honduras and pay the peasants there 65¢ an hour. Or Nicaragua for 41¢ an hour. And if they get uppity, there’s always Haiti for 30¢ an hour.

   The courageous work done by American unions in the 20th century which led to a greater middle class and the weekend has to be done all over again globally so the corporations which don’t give one fig seed about you, pilgrim, are forced to have a facsimile of a soul. A proto-soul. Requiring ceos to live on the lowest wage in their company and take public transportation for one week of each month, the WalktheTalk Solution, would fix things fast. Ideally your imagination should supply you with the empathy, but if not, the actual experience will treat you to a transforming insight. There is a direct relationship between your obscene heavenless eye-of-the-needle riches and the daily hell of their poverty. If it’s so acceptable, you do it. WalktheTalk.

==

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

1 Cane . Ben . Reed . East  tzol 53  07.24.05 sun 8783§24d8h36m59s

ffsk 444

We want your Comments on pogblog.

 Don't know how to Comment? Other questions?

Contact pogblog@yahoo.com

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