Sunday, December 13, 2015

Vol.195: How Much I Feel



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Ladies and gentlemen, Theona Donther here with a venomous release of bile that can no longer be withheld. The scabs upon my once bloodied knees can be itched and bandaged no further. There is something that I must confess and that is, there is a malignant tumor upon American Politics that has been the result of a freakish 21st Century metamorphic wedding of Frankensteinian proportions between celebrity and avarice.

His disgusting hovel of windswept combed-over hair rose from the leftover remains of an economy's car crash of unbridled greed of the 1980's as it slammed into the technology of the 90's somehow giving birth to the test tube reality television curse of celebrity; where Kardashians are considered royalty and shame is something to be confessed and then forgotten during a television news-public relations conference, because the attention span of the masses lasts no longer than the latest 24 hour news cycle.

You can smell his fascist cologne as it leaves chem-trails in the polluted skies. Whether it be through his private jet coated in gold or a helicopter dragging the subtext banner of what truly is his campaign slogan, "Make the Plantation great again," the future remains to be seen but the ends will never justify his monstrous means.

He is the bloviated white head on the face of our all too proud gun carrying country of simple minded neophytes, where most of us spend our lives wandering in the darkness of fear and ignorance, stumbling as we search for crumbs of truth among the wasteland of defeated dreams of the middle class.

The first day of his campaign should have been the last as condemned an entire portion of society, "but mostly are good people," only to move on to the nearest and dearest of the Neo-Cons hawkish attitudes in their love affair with the military-industrial-complex; the altar is in place and the scapegoats are ready for their throats to be slit.

My only wish this Christmas is to let the stain of cowardice wash-over the American media that has slovenly given him pass because he creates a never-ending desire for coverage from the press.

There is no need to speak his name, it's on everything he's ever created.



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Thursday, November 19, 2015

Vol.194: Instant Karma

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Ladies and gentlemen, Thelonius Ronscpiacy back from the front lines of Paris with urgent commentary that needs to be divulged and comprehended by the masses. Now I don't have to tell you that we are living in perilous times. All you have to do is turn on the television set or lap top or glance at the Facebook posts to get a rise in bile at the back of your throat.


Ladies and gentlemen, you and I know it, we can feel it, taste it, touch it, see it and breathe it; we are at war. Whether you like it or not, we are living in World War III right now as I type these words. A sad truth of our current predicament is that it hasn't been labeled in the media, magazines or newspapers, but make no mistake about it, we are at war and it all began on that sunny Tuesday morning in September of 2001. Those were the bells that rung the opening salvos in the now all too real slow death march into the abyss, some of us walking hand in hand, others shouting at the top of their lungs as people wade single file to stand in line before the rising of the sun for the next technological epiphany promising salvation that can be purchased for only a couple hundred dollars.

Ladies and gentlemen, we became distracted from commercials and regurgitated superhero movies to witness as Osama Bin Laden reared his ugly head from a shadowy cave in Afghanistan and the race was on. The shots had been fired. And as a result of one too many pokes from a stick had awakened the angry and bitter dragon of a lost Vietnam war and the largest military force the world has ever seen was let loose upon the Middle East and sadly the only winners seem to be the oil and gas companies and the rest of the military industrial complex (your welcome Dick Cheney).
I wouldn't want this guy at the Thanksgiving table; although he does have a lot to be thankful for. 

Saddam Hussein was captured and killed, Iraq was turned into rubble and the snakes of ISIS were born from their viper pit of hell. Now the music of cable news twenty four hour talking heads and pundits cacophony beat the drums while the thousand year old battles of the Sunni vs. Shia continue their sideshow act of visible ignorance, all the while, smiling eyes in Israel expand their grip around the noose of feebly armed Palestinians. The oil slick of poverty and injustice spreads like an airborne virus in a tidal wave of apathy.




But nonetheless, the fight is on.


Ladies and gentlemen, whether you want to admit to it or not, the war is between two dying religions and their fading points of view; the western world's commercialized Christianity and the Middle East's 3rd world version of radical Islam on steroids. Two bedrocks that have fought against one another since the Crusades are clinging with their dirtied fingernails to the cliffs of the past, wishing for gloried days gone by. It may be the burning of a witch, owning slave or stoning a woman for driving a car, you can almost hear their whimpering cries of denial, the disgust at the ever growing truth that they are slowly dying on the vine of religious intolerance.

Ladies and gentlemen, whether you want to pick up a gun or build higher walls or perhaps keep a closer eye on your sketchy neighbor, it's entirely up to each and every one of you to choose how to act, as best as each and everyone of you see fit. Or you may be simply inconvenienced by the realization that things change, that people change and the world you now inhabit isn't the one you grew up in or have been told is the best one that there is to offer so don't go chasing rainbows. While sides are being taken and lines are being drawn across the ever changing sands of the political landscape, what is abundantly clear is that the choices are ours to make.




Ladies and gentlemen, there are no easy answers to any of this. There is no magical crystal ball to peer into the future and see how all of this turns out, and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe not knowing is all a better situation than knowing that Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton will be our next President? Either way, some proud people are going to be really, really, really upset. To tell you the truth, I am very much looking forward to those debates; Superbowl ratings will rain down from the eternal universe upon the television networks that have them like manna upon the ancient Israelites during their exodus from Egypt.  Or maybe it will turn out that a newly established Caliphate will occupy Jerusalem and spread like a virus across the globe and we will all be held under the domineering hands of Sharia law?  Frankly, I have had my popcorn ready for quite some time and I look forward to possibly watching the two opposing forces destroy themselves while a new world, a world free from ignorance and pollution grows in their stead; a world that will evolutionarily allow all of humanity to continue in the struggle to reach our full potential.



Until then, Happy Everything.



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Sunday, November 8, 2015

Vol. 193: Catharsis



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     Ladies and gentlemen, friends, relatives and neighbors, hear the bells of truth ringing in your ears as the Holiday season is fast approaching. Let the echoes of their past reverberations be felt on the distant horizon of possibilities and storytelling's often times ludicrous imagination. For I have awakened from a dream and have a truth to tell and it will no longer lay resting in silent ambivalence.

     It was first noticeable when I was a much younger child and the need to escape was at times, too much to bear, that it's hold would suddenly come upon me and cause me to threaten running away and instead go and sit on the curb at the corner of the yard on 105th Ave and Washington. It was there you could find me, tennis shoe sneakered feet on the gravel pavement, black nylon backpack resting at my side and tears streaming down my face. What or who it was that set me off, I do not remember, only the unmistakable urge to vanish from my surroundings.

     As I grew older and the changes around me were no longer just physical but spiritual and parental as well, the need to escape would take the shape of talking to myself or others who were able to hear me when I would be planted in right field during a youth baseball game. The chattering monkey unable to keep quiet always resting upon my shoulders, my eyes and ears absorbing the next pitch and possible need to take action in the game. When the games stopped the self medicating took over and for many years they held me in their purchased arms while I navigated the streams of consciousness in classroom after classroom waiting for the bells to ring.

     Looking back, it is noticeable to me now that I, like so many others, have a minor case of mental illness. As a result, I do not any longer back away from the undesired truth but bare witness to it sitting with me wherever I go. I have come to appreciate that idols and icons have all been touched since the beginning of time and it is nothing more than a blessing and a curse to endure until we reach the ether of humanity's eternal universe.

     Ernest Hemingway would have been appalled that a male aspiring writer such as myself would bare witness to these mental dry heaves of psychosis and wish to lay bare for the public to dissect, but such is life in the pharmaceutical 21st Century.  But please, friends, relatives, neighbors and future co-workers, rest assured that it isn't anything major, or for anyone to be truly worried about. There is no need to tip toe around the next time we meet; but I do know this, I am far from normal and that will be for the rest of my waking life, okay. It is a necessary struggle I will continue to have for the rest of my life, but I am content in knowing that in a world as crazy as this one has become, if I wasn't a little bit touched in the head, then something truly, truly would be wrong. And for the rest of those that have known me for so long, this all comes as very little surprise, I suppose.

    Happy Holidays!!!!



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Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Vol.192: We Want the Pope, Gotta have that Pope


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Tears of Joy or Tears of Shame or Both?

     The United States has been witness to some pomp and circumstance in the past, but nothing like we've seen in the previous week. It was history in the making. It was Fonzi jumping the shark. It was the introduction of PacMan to the Atari 2600 and released upon the sprawling suburbia of early 80's America. It was the all of that, wrapped into the release of Star Wars in May of 1977. It was of course, the visit of his holiness, Pope Francis of the Holy See. Word is, according to his deep web Twitter account that his new album should be dropping in the weeks to come, and for the record from someone close to his holiness he has already negotiated a contract with Richard Branson to get his own, Led Zeppelin sized personal jet; we must admit, the man is a rock star. For many of us that have bore witness and past recollections of Popes from the previous era, never before has there been the common sense of this one that has seemed to openly embrace the times and the ever changing world in which he is living, and for that, we can all say, Amen to that.
                                         

     The same old song and dance continues at the United Nations where industrialized countries puff their cigars and demand peace at costs only they can pay, but instead would rather place upon someone else; there they sit, the climate change deniers continuing on with the shrugging of their shoulders and their exhaled pffts of disgust at the thought that they have anything to do with the rising of temperatures, the melting of ice caps and the continual destruction of our tiny little marble in the eternity of our Universe. All of this with Hurricane Joaquin heading it's way up the coast. Ignore that and be reminded with the fact that with Mars having water, we can all look forward to moving back to where we quite possibly have come from in the first place. What is so remarkable, is the fact that many of these climate change deniers have no problem believing, placing their faith in the altogether scientifically unproven existence of an all encompassing benevolent ruler of our entire being of space and time. Maybe the two sides should agree to disagree but at the same time laugh at the irony of it all?

     All of this continues as migrants and refugees from a destabilized Middle East stream into Europe, across the Mediterranean and over mountains of capitalism's selfish excess and inhospitable countries in search of a new life, food and enough shelter. The fear of terrorism, the overpopulation and austerity measures imposed on these European nations has their citizens unable to take the next steps and let these people in without the humiliation and taunts targeted at their tired and struggling backs as they carry family members in their arms, only to be tripped by immoral camera women.  Now with the great global chess play of Putin in Syria, it is about to get even messier. Europe will have to face some serious consequences. Wasn't this once the Holy Roman Empire of Christianity?
                                                                               

     He may have come and died for our sins if you believe in that sort of thing and which since that time have piled up in size like the national debt; the least we can do is act like he would have wanted us to. To love our neighbor, not fear them. To feed the hungry, not starve them for lack of employment or money, the color of their skin or the language they speak, and finally instead forgive the debts of those we have imposed debts upon; for we have more than enough in the world, we just have to look at ourselves in the mirror for a long time in order to realize that we are each responsible for making the world a truly wonderful Kingdom of God. Until then, are we going to continue putting up walls?


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Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Vol.191: Citizens United: An American Definition of Oxymoron


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     There is a giant pig stretched out across the American landscape that encompasses all within, from sea to shining sea. The Supreme Court having given birth to its round taut pink fat ballooned body after having created it through its genetic corporate act of manipulated reproduction, it now lays languid in the dog days of summer as one by one her children of Moloch come to suck from her teats to feed their morally malnourished bodies. Never before have we seen so many, so early in the campaign season writhing in the mud. Yet they continue to grovel and fight among themselves for the best position while high above, their mutated dragon like offspring floats with the currents of the ever changing wind through his billion dollar comb-over, laughing and bullying along the way as he spews dissension and whatever will grab the headlines for that particular day. Even the anointed one has been seen finding her place within the grovel that are her current counterparts, sucking from each well fought for teat for the campaign sustaining fluids that are the lifeblood of their ever developing macabre like circus. Reports say that record numbers are being siphoned off each quarter; stay tuned ladies and gentlemen, because we still have a long way to go.





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Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Vol. 190: Excerpt from Rough Draft of GIDDEOM


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An excerpt from the forthcoming novel, GIDDEOM. 



The lightning flash of resilience is at times remarkable as the storm clouds gather and roll across the plains. There are faint murmurs of the stirring but nothing more obvious than birds chirping and small squirrels scurrying from tree limb to tree trunk and back again.  Unlike their human neighbors, they can see it coming. They can hear the echo of its’ tremendous force. They find reason and purpose in their actions.
It has been forecasted, spoken about in Internet and overly priced cafes and on their television sets with good looking tan-skinned and well-manicured hosts with plunging necklines equivalent to their intelligence quotient. To the viewers at home or stuck in the airport waiting holding pattern however, the ticker at the bottom of their screens is no consolation. Their retirement savings doesn’t hold them close and whisper everything is going to be all right. They can feel it, but they can’t see the noose that they are each holding, tightening around their necks.
Some of them know better than that and some should, but they go for a walk anyway. Nothing anymore surprises me. Although the fact that they walk upright may seem a miracle in and of itself. But you can tell that to Darwin and all of his followers as a big, “I told you so.”  
They can curse me all they want; but it takes a lot to bring a man to the point of wanting to kill another human being. Believe me, there are many factors along the way that help to push and prod him in the direction that ultimately alters two lives with a single act of disregard to decency and instead towards a full embrace of how shall I put it, human nature.
Say what you will about other animals, there is nothing so sinister, yet remarkably elegant in the fact that each person holds steady to the belief that they can control their own destiny; that with an act of repudiated violence towards another they may find joy and happiness in their absence, doing their best to mop up the blood afterwards. The explosion of forensics shows gives birth to confident voyeurs, na├»ve in believing that they won’t leave a trace.
I can understand that. In their opinion, I’m the ultimate voyeur. Where was I? That’s right, back to the task at my left hand; please forgive me. I’ll be the first to admit it; it is very difficult to multitask, and I’d admit, maybe that’s where I’ve gone wrong.
There may be the co-worker who continually pushes your buttons, or the momentary lapse of reason resulting in a desperate act of road rage, slamming your brakes as the smell of burnt rubber surrounds the vehicle and you, pulling the gun from the glove compartment; settling things once and for all.
Like a mystical weapon handed down from above, each finds their believed purpose in the blink of an eye. I see that you all try your best not to let the guilt of the act wash over and consume you.
            Cavemen would simply grab the nearest stone and raise their arms towards the heavens and bring it crashing down on a skull within reach, in defiance of all that has come since then. They have evolved to the point that the method they choose is just that; it is all a matter of their choosing. With the explosion of information found on the Internet, each of them has the tools and capability of performing the task of Cain. There is nowhere to hide from the click of a mouse.
            As a result of the progression of technology and the wide spread of information, wars between nations seem to be reaching their endpoint. Instead they have been replaced with acts of terror bound together by outdated ideologies grasping for straws of relevance in the ever changing world. This world’s natural resources dwindle and yet they continue to do nothing about it. Halls of power throughout the globe tug and pull in opposite directions, neither one capitulating to the other and in the process are equal conspirers of their own demise. Like the hole in the center of a table hidden underneath soiled cloth, with a vase placed unknowingly, oops, bringing it all down.
A mess has been made.  
            Articles are continually written about the downward slope of modern life. One day, museums will be built in the name of their murderers, owners of more wealth and control than their victims, but their history will place the mantle of victor atop their marble columned abjurations; monuments to their own stupidity. Selfishness rewarded with scholarly theories held forth by institutions of ivy colored walls, closed to those without the skills and money necessary to open their doors.
            I hear them. I hear their pleas, but I haven’t come to a decision yet.
            Why should I help them? What have they continually showed themselves to be other than hypocrites who only hold out hope for help when they need it most; but in days comforted by my everlasting grace neglect the simple fact that without me, none of them or this would be here at all?
            They have been seduced through their ignorance. The ineffectual ones and zeroes flashing behind a flickering screen of light that is held in place by plastic constructed by the shells of long dead life forms; an assembly line of free trade. Ones and zeroes, a line in the sand and a circle placed next to it; cross the line and you will find what you are looking for. Step into the circle and you will be lost in the endless loop of totality. Ones and zeroes, ones and zeroes are all that they are. All of life has sprung from the one wellspring of creation and that is all. From nothing comes everything; and from everything they will have nothing left.
            Then again, I haven’t made my mind up, yet. If you’re lucky or cursed, you can bet I’ll see you around.



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Sunday, May 24, 2015

Vol.189: In Memoriam

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     Objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear. The past is like the future, just out of reach of our outstretched fingers and never what we think it was or ever will be. Instead we push through the cobwebs of ether into the unknown, continually finding faults in our supposed gifts only to weather the storms of holidays' long distant memories. Our Fathers, Mothers, Sons and Daughters have gone before and have left our golden shores to remain permanently etched into our frontal lobes; each one of us suffering from post traumatic stress in the name of God and Country and most of us don't even know it.



     If you were to disregard the who, what, where and when and focus on the now, you would find the present tense all the more unsettling as we sift through the desert of our despair. California is dying on the vine and yet the water from the heavens is soaking our midsection as we grow ever more overweight with the absence of intelligent thought and discussion, only to struggle everyday to remind ourselves that we are blessed to live in the country where we have the freedom to be all that we can be, whether someone else likes it or not.

     Ladies and gentlemen, before we get all wrapped up in our flag orgy of pounding our chests; the fact is that less than .05% of our country's population now currently serves in the Armed Forces and for that I am truly thankful. But I would like to, more than I know or do, give thanks to those that have served and have gone and given the ultimate sacrifice through wars both deserving and those that should have never been and this should also include those from around the world as well. Because we are one world, in an ever expanding universe, and I hope in time, someday, we will miss and spill tears for everyone everywhere, except for maybe ISIS; realizing that in the ones we fight and the ones we lose, we in the end, are only fighting ourselves.





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