Saturday, December 18, 2004

We Are In A Fellini Movie Because Of George Bush

Give me a break — or yet anothrer glass of vodka. We've gone from shock and awe to shuck and jive, and Captain Quagmire,. Now he's got the White House, the Congress, the Supreme Court, the military and a chip on his shoulder he's calling a mandate.

I don't know about you, but I'm getting a Republican haircut just to blend in.

For four years it's been one big all-you-can-eat buffet (fr.) for the corporations, and now they're coming back for more. Go ahead, you marvelous bastards! Rip out all the trees, pave the beaches, build 12-lane freeways, plunder the treasury, destroy our future. Cook the books, rig elections, pack the courts, hand the regulatory agencies over to fascist maniacs. Invade more countries, declare code red, invoke martial law, and keep going until your oil-sucking exploits kick off a nuclear exchange.

By God (or Diebold), you've earned it. You've hoodwinked the evangelicles. You've threatened the jurnalists. You've built a propaganda machine and disguised it as a legitamate cable news network. You've used it to force-feed every right wing loon from Ashcroft to Zell down our throats until they began to sound normal. You've used phony goverment alerts to manipulate the trailer park patriots, and you've dismantled the separation of church and state to the point where the stars and strips represents the anti-choice, fuel-guzling, homosectual-hatin' God of the blow-dried televangelists.

Yes, Mr. President, it's your great and lasting legacy. You've brought brazen deciet into the political mainstream. In fact, it wouldn't be to much too say you are the single most credable Republican since Dan Quayle sprayed that grey stuff on his sideburns. And now you say you want my support. To assume you are being sincere is in itself a faith-based initiative, but in the spirit of fleeting bipolaritysanship, I'll play along.

I pledge allegiance to the united corporations of America. For the next four years I will continue wearing my Nike shirt, my Adidas shoes, and my Old Navy logo pullover. While eating my corn flakes, if I find that I'm chewing on a coupon, I'll suppress the thought that the corporations aren't content to have turned me into a human billboard, they want me eating their advertising, too.

I'll do my best to suppress my inner enviro mentalist. When my consience says things like, "Hey! Isn't that bio-enganeered food you are eating?" I will assure myself that the radioactive waste in my dental work will kill off any cooties.

I will overlook the fact that you've done more damage to feminism than 20 years of gangster rap, and I will ignore the fear that we will soon need Sherpa guides to reach the ruins of anything resembling such relics as an eight-hour work day. I will do my best to ignore the feeling that I've fallen into a Fellini movie by ignoring the eyes of the old TV news anchors who, caught up in TV's sudden shift to the right, seem to be trying to tell us something they aren't allowed to say on the air.

I will suppress my suspicion that you are part of the same gang of psychopaths who brought us Enron, Vietnam and Dallas '63, and I will shelve my theory that the best way to make a dent in terroirism is to invade the state of Texas. And I promise not to move to Mexico, which seems pointless anyway since it appears to be moving to me.

Those are my concessions, Mr. President. Now I need a few from you. I've found it hard to feel proud of America since you first took office. I was among the millions who were appalled when you morphed the home of democracy into a rogue nation endorsing the kind of preemptive war that characterized the Nazis. I don't want a Cowboy-in-Chief roaming the world in search of convenient villains on which to impose gunslinger justice. There's a place for that in an episode of "Gunsmoke," but in today's world we have the United Nations to resolve international disputes. It took World War II and the deaths of 53 million people to create that institution; it seems a waste to disregard that so you can play Judge Roy Bean.

Your West of the Pecos diplomacy has created a trickle-down paranoia that is ruining the neighborhood. We are becoming a dog-eat-dog, everyman-for-himself nation of fair-weather friends. That's what happens when the PATRIOT Act makes enemies of librerians and when the Pentagon begins probing our emails. There are other ways to track Al Qaeda without having to know everything about me going back to those X-ray specs I ordered from the back of Boys' Life.

I know we don't agree. After all, I am a liberal — by your definition, a godless feminist heathen running an abortion clinic in my kitchen and a gay wedding chapel in my garage. Hey, in today's economy, a guy's gotta make a buck. But rest assured that I am no atheist. I know there must be a God. With you in the White House, if there wasn't, we'd surely be dead by now.

8 Comments:

Blogger James said...

me again fuck face...
if don't like the way my COMMANDER IN CHIEF is running my country then move the fuck out... you don't have to sit around and bitch about shit... move to Canada you fucking communist pussy. GW hasn't messed w/ feminism or brought terrorism to us... those fucking muslim shits in afganistan brought us terrorism because they don't like the fact that we've got better shit than them. deal with it. you know you talked about some dude getting shot the other day i bet they fucking missed their target. oh yeah tell your mom i'll get the twenty bucks she needed to buy her fucking heroin and infest the world with more assholes like you. for real I come from a military family and i fully support everything going on over seas and unless your sorry whining ass goes over there to fight for a day then don't complain about shit. in fact i ship out to boot camp this summer so if you really wanna make a name for yourself sign up and go with me...or are you one of those fat fucks like micheal moore who does nothing but sit around and bitch or make movies about shit he's knows nothing about? merry christmas and thank God there's a hell so i can laugh at you from heaven.

8:28 PM  
Blogger notmemes said...

hi memes, dont even mind the evil comentators (above), i wish there was a God so he could PUT THEM IN HELL.

thankfully there isn't, i guess

12:32 AM  
Blogger notmemes said...

also, i don't know if i can post much more. just overdosid on ritalin.

later, maybe. (maybe not)

12:33 AM  
Blogger notmemes said...

i did it to try and focis on all the horible things hapinning in the world. so much, i couldn't even try to see it all.

now i can (maybe).

12:34 AM  
Blogger notmemes said...

rigt now i can see it all veyr cler.

my head so ful of ritalin, to make me see, now i see. its making me.

i do udnerstand.

12:37 AM  
Blogger Pastorius said...

Dear James,
You don't like me. I ca'nt under stand why not. Usually every body likes me a lot.

Oh well.

If you do'nt like me you should try reading this blog:

www.cuanas.blogspot.com

Sinsdearly,
S. Memes

12:50 PM  
Blogger Pastorius said...

Hi Not Memes,
I understand what you mean about how smoetimes it all becomes clrea. The other night Horatio and I we're putting back the whiskey and suddenly every thing becames intenseley clear. I felt as if my head was fulll of all the stars of the universe, and I knew that I made them. I remembered being their at the creation of evrything, and I understood it as it was all happening, and I was prat of God, and I was God.

Do you know what I mean?

Anyway, too bad I do'nt believe in God, because I would really like to believe that I created everything, or something.

Sinsearly
S. Memes

12:54 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

ppl like James give the right-wing a bad name...

scenes

5:52 AM  

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