A Apology To Dasiy

I had a bit of a break down last night. I don't want to go into it all, because it's a bit imbarassing. It happens to me evry once in a while. It's prat of my creative/artisitic nature. I am not always the calm, collected rational person that you see here on this blog day after day.

Anyway, the upshot is that Ngude, Horatio and Biff had to talk me threw it.

They sat me down and said, "You know Memes, you have a problem." And, of course, I insisted that I do not. And I kept insisting until Horatio started slapping me, like a girl. Like a little sissy,convulsing-with-sobs, wearing-a-pink-dress-with-a-ribbon-in-her-hair girl. It was humiliating.

But , good has come from it, because now I know that I do have a problem. and I am here to admit it.

So, here goes,

I, Memes, has a sexual addiction.

But, this is no ordinary sexual addiction. Oh no. It's ... Oh wait, I almost forgot.

I, Memes, say don't froget to drink Snapple while you're overthrowing the Goverment!!!

So, anyway, what I was getting at is my sexual additiction is not your normal sex addiction. It's not that I can't go without sex, because truth be told , incresingly, as i get older

Well, I don't really want to talk about it, but you know how a camel can go without drinking water for a long time, well, I, you know...

So, here's what my peculiar addiction consists of. I, Memes, is addicted to looking at young ladies. I just can't keep my eyes off the 21 and 22 year olds. I know it seems strange that I would be like this. I know it is wrong. I know now that it is a sickness. I know that I am in the throws of a ball-and-chain like addiction. I know, and am ready to admit, that I need hlep.

Ngude in particular, was helpful in me coming to my realizationinsists that I should not be such. For Ngude, when he was attedning San Francisco City College (studying to be a Master Talking Drum Player, and also getting his credential as a surrogate sex partner with an emphasis on homosexual relationships) took several classes dealing with learning the paramaters of male/female relationships. He said that in one class, called Mutual Respect 200, they learned the procdures and techniques required for the toning down of the evil nature of the male libido.

Apparently, unbeknownst to me, the whole world has been moving forward without me. what were once considered generally exceptable Male/female pattrens of behavior, are no longer deemed appropriate. Fro instance, apparently (this is all knew to me) , the little attempt I made at a clandestine tryst with Daisy, is not deemed appropriate behavior.

I am chaseand and imbarassed. What can I say?

so, let me just say this. Daisy, I am vary sorry about my inappropriate behavior. I now realize that I am old (53) by you're standards, and that young ladies such as yourslef consider it visual molestation to be oogled by men of my advanced age, or any man who is not of a appropriatly good-looking nature.

I am truly sorry. I hope you will except my apology and return to our movement soon.

The FBI Comes Knocking

Sorry to get to the blogging so late, but an incedent occurred this morning which has kept me otherwise occupied. I was awakened by a frightful banging at the door. Horatio and I had had quit a bit of fun last night so, believe me, I was in no mood to greet the world. What's more, once I did stumble out of bed and over to my closet I was unable to find my robe, and all the clothes were in the hamper. Because of certain things that happened last night, I was certainly not going to put those clothes back on.

Here's the problem though; I, Memes, sleeps in his nature's finest. So there I am with no clothes on and this banging at the door. What to do? What to do?

"Could you hold on?" I called through the door, trying to quell their insistant hammering.

"FBI, open up now Mr. Memes.

Crap, I thought. And that's all I could think. Just crap.

Now, here's the thing: I don't want to brag, but I, Memes, is monstrously endowed. I try to keep the lid on my secret as much as possibile (wear loose fitting clothes, avoid x-ray machines whenever possible), accept with the ladies of course. But in this case, apparently I had no choice. So, I opened the door.

You should have seen the look of shock, no, dare I say, fright, on the face of the two FBI agents. I would swear one of them began to whimper like a small animal. I just stood there, impressive.

When they finally recovered

(wait, did I mention just exactly how endowed I am because it is a truly amazing freak of nature kind of thing. I'm sure that on some level my wangdoodle actually stretches beyond our demention into the fifth, sixth and a bit of the seventh demention themsleves. I would imagine that there are beings from other dementions who would wish that I could, somehow, tone down the glory of my maninfestation)

But, I digress, getting back to the story, when they finally recovered one of the FBI agents said something stupid like, "Can we come in? We just have a few questions for you Mr. Memes."

"I demand to know what this is all about," I replied.

"We have a few questions about some acquaintaces of you're's down at the Crescent Cafe."

"The what, I asked?" incredulously.

"The Crescent Cafe down on 6th down near the Village."

"Oh, you mean the Bagdad Cafe. Yes, by acquaintances, you mean the nobel jihadis with whom I, Memes, is doing business. That, my good man, is none of you're busnines. I will answer none of you're questions. Now, away with you."

"Mr. Memes, I'm sorry, but we insist," the prick of an Fricking Board of Insolence agent replied.

"How dare you. It is not in you're job discription to insist that a citizen of the Unitee States of America answer you're random and impertinat questions. Oh, but I forget, you live in jesusland, don't you? We;ll I don't, my friend. I still live in the USA and I am proud of it."

And, with that I picked up my cell phone and proceeded to call my attorney Biff. He lives next door, and he doesn't go to the office much, so he came right over and began to threaten the FBI agents with a litany of lawsutis, injunctions, and briefs. At which point, they suggested that I put on some briefs and take a little ride with them. After much tense negotiation, my attorney agreed to their request and he went with me.

For two hours they asked me the same questions over and over. "What are their names?" To which I replied, "I don't know. I haven't the foggiest." Then they would ask, "How could it be, Mr. Memes, that you don't know the names of people you do business with?" To which I replied, "In the business I am in, one does not need to know the names of one's comrades , only that we share the same interests."

"And what interests are those , Mr. Memes?" To which I replied, "Oh, certain political causes and initiatives of a humanitarian nature, such as feeding the poor, and looking out for the rights of the working man."

They also asked if I knew where the nobel jihadi's disappeared to when they go away for weeks at a time, which they do on a seemingly revolving basis. They also asked if I had any knowledge of any trading in weapons systems, or any plans to attack the interests of jesusland. I replied that, I don't.

And the truth is, I don't know anything.

I think one of the guys at the Bagdad is named Ahmed, but I'm not sure. It is very hard for me to decipher they're accents. And beyond that, they rarely speak directly to me, and do most of they're talking in exoctic dialects with which I am not familiar.

After hours of this b.s., the FBI informed my attorney and I that they had had enough of us, and we left.

We shall see how this new turn of events shall shape up.

A Great Apithy Is Spreading - The Forward March Of History Has Stopped Cold Turkey

I sense a lack of my own relavence. It seems a great apithy is spreading across our land.

I know and have known that when fascists are not writing in to me and calling me names, and when I no longer have clamoring masses of proletariat asking me questions and speaking truth to power, then my movement is stuck.

It seems my movement has solidified and hardened into apithy.

I'm guessing that the reasons for this are manafold. Perhaps for instence, no body cares that Bush is hitler any more. Perhaps fro instence, no one cares if we call him Bushitler any more.

But, the most frigtening reason of all is perhaps that the fascists just aren't afraid of us anymore. They believe they have nothing to fear, since it seems to them that Bush fairly stole the election and that he's going to get a way with it.

They now seem to think that we people of the movement are nudered. That we are a bull without balls, nothing to fear. Well, the truth of the matter is they are right, because apithy has spread within as well.

Every one is just to contented.

It seems like when things are going well, than no one cares about the movement. If things were going badly then we could strat moving forward once again. Things have to go badly befroe I can make history get better.

And so, alas, behold, the long forward march of history comes to an end. I, Memes, do proclaim that it is over.

And don't froget, Drink Snapple while you are overthrowing the goverment.

And the wurst part of it all, is that Daisy stole all my Snapple money and is off sitting on a beach somehwere in California sipping on blue drinks and being catered to by gigoolos.

MemoGate Or Gaping Hell Mouth? Let Us Ponder

I have ceased to believe that the roiling confluence of "writers" which constitute the "blog" matrices are in any way connected to the democratic construct which we have come to know as the "will of the people".

When a younger, more internet-savvy Memes constituency (a hot little number who goes by the name of Vanessa) first infromed me of the concept, and the apparent reality/possability, of logging my stray thoughts on the web in the form of a live journal of the inner-workings of the Memesian archives, I was excited. Finally, a way for me to manifest my movement for posteriority.

In the beginning , I was attracted to the energy and the potential revolutionary capacity of this web uprising, what I felt to be the possability that perhaps, finally, the proletariat were gaining they're "voice" in the world.

Alas, it has not meant to be.

Instead, the blogosphere has been the object of a populist riot never the likes of which have been seen. A frightening turmoil of hysterical voices and vices have made clear they're intentions that they will be heard. A harrowing rabble.The blogosphere has become a "free market" of ideas. Yet another capitalist construct insuring that the legion "crowd" will get what it wants.

To say that I am disappointed is an understatement. In fact, I am distraught.

For instance, let's take a look at the Memogate affaire (fr.): Bloggers have claimed the attack on CBS News as their Boston Tea Party. But on close examination the scene looks less like a victory for democracy than a case of mob rule.

On September 8, just weeks before the presidential election, 60 Minutes II ran a story about how George W. Bush got preferential treatment as he glided through his time in the Texas Air National Guard. The story was anchored on four memos that, it turns out, were of unknown origin. People are saying they can't be "authenticated."

Consider the memos in question. They were supposed to have been written by Lieutenant Colonel Jerry Killian, now dead, who supervised Bush in the Guard. We know Killian’s name was on them. We don’t know whether the memos were forged, authentic, or some combination thereof. Indeed, they could be fake but accurate. Quantuum physicstells us that sometimes things can be two things at once.

But, that didn't stop the rabble of bloggers from coming up with "theories". For example, the conservative blog Little Green Footballs posted a do-it-yourself experiment that supposedly "proved" the documents were produced on a computer. A self-proclaimed typography expert, Joseph Newcomer, copied the experiment, and posted the results on his personal Web site.

Newcomer gave the press what it wanted: a definite answer. Newcomer’s résumé — boasting a Ph.D. in computer science and a role in creating electronic typesetting — seemed impressive. His conclusions came out quickly, and were bold bordering on hyperbolic. The accompanying analysis was long and technical, discouraging close examination. Still, his method was simple to replicate, and the results were easy to understand:

"Based on the fact that I was able, in less than five minutes . . . to type in the text of the 01-August-1972 memo into Microsoft Word and get a document so close that you can hold my document in front of the ‘authentic’ document and see virtually no errors, I can assert without any doubt (as have many others) that this document is a modern forgery."

Red flags wave here, or should have. Newcomer begins with the presumption that the documents are forgeries, and as evidence submits that he can create a very similar document on his computer. He typed it up and it didn't look the same. This proves nothing — you could make a replica of almost any document using Word. Words can look like almost anything. Think about how many different fonts you have scene in ad copy alone.

I'm starting to think we need to rethink Deconstructionism. People seem to think they can get away with any "truth" now.

Snow As Trojan Horse - Possible Chemical Warfare Attack in United Arab Emirates

The infallable, indefatigueable, inconquerably independent Agence French Presse aired a very importnt article yesterday. The geopolitcal implications of this story are harrowing. Here it is:

DUBAI (AFP) - Snow has fallen over the United Arab Emirates for the first time ever, leaving a white blanket over the mountains of Ras al-Khaimah as the desert country experienced a cold spell and above-average rainfall.

Dubai airport's meteorology department told AFP that snow fell over the Al-Jees mountain range in Ras al-Khaimah, which is the most northerly member of the UAE federation.

The English-language Gulf News reported that the mountain cluster, 5,700 feet (1,737 metres) above sea level, "had heavy night-time snowfall for the past two days as a result of temperatures dropping to as low as minus five Celsius (23 Fahrenheit)" and stunning the emirate's residents.

On Monday, 12.6 millimetres (half an inch) of rain fell on the desert emirate of Dubai, where it hardly ever rains, as police reported 500 accidents on its roads in 24 hours, including one fatality, as a result of a three-day downpour.

A cold spell has hit the country this week, with the mercury plunging to 12 degrees Celsius (53.6 Fahrenheit) in Dubai on Wednesday night.

The meteorology department, however, said the chilly weather in Dubai, where summer temperatures reach 50 Celcius (122 Fahrenheit), will probably end by next week.

I wouldn't go near that snow if I were them. This is a horrible human tragedy on a massive scale. For anybody with even half a brain it is clear what is going on here. This is just another one of George Bushes massacres of nobel jihadis' everywhere.

However, while George Bushitler has been killing people en mass for quite some time already this is the first reported case of use of WMD's, and this is the first time that the Reich's global warming maching "The Reignmaker" has been used as a delivery system for weapons.

Up until now the Reignmaker has simply been used to cause temporary interruptions in the weather. This time, however, it has been used to drop chemical weapons laden snow on the mountain peaks of the United Arab Emirates.

Oh, the humanity. Can you imagine all the little children, seeing snow for the first time in their lives, scampering up into the moutains, with corn cob pipes, and buttons, and carrots to set to work of making their very first snow men? There are now mountain slopes filled with half-finished snowmen and little Arab Emirati's laying dead, or in the throes of seizures associated with chemical weapons.

And don't get me started on what will happen when the thaw starts. Massive rivers of chemicals cascading down the mountainsides rushing like a tidal wave of death and desturction into the streets of Dubai. Never will we have seen mass causlaties like this since the Plague of the Dark Ages.

The UN will have to spend enormous resources building sturdy tent cities to house they're altruistic legion. Floods and tons of food and drink will have to be airlifted into the outskirs of Dubai to ensure the safety of the UN peacekeepers. Humanitarian aid stations will stretch as far as the eye can see as the UN reaches out to the young Emirati girls and boys with that special care that only the UN can despense upon the noble underprivaleged locals the world round, as they have been called to do recently in places like the Congo.

In the meanwhile, while we wait for the frist reports of death tolls to start to snap and crackle off the wire systems of the tireless media, we can only wait and pray for our movement to manifest itself in the streets of the United States.