Sunday, November 13, 2016

Vol. 200: It almost seems Fitting




                Spread the Outrage. Spread the Truth.

I bet he's not thinking, "Right on, brother."

Where do we go from here? What do we tell our children? Why on Earth hadn't anyone seen this coming? Or did they and they didn't want to let us in on the big reveal? Either way, and this is extraordinarily hard to stomach for some, is that we are getting what we may have subconsciously needed in order for the move forward to actually continue; despite all signs pointing to the contrary.


Hard to swallow, huh?

It was hammered into us for years. It was the over consumption of media prophecies and poll results. Whether you like it or not, the truth is she was the candidate of neutral; staying in the same spot, saying the same things and offering no enthusiasm or hope for a better world. He is the exact opposite; unpredictable, unlikable, unthinkable and more often than not, unbelievable. But he is what we have, and we are going to have to live with it; for at least the next four years.

What are we going to do about it? Are we going to put our heads in the sand, because what little snow is left will be gone by then? Are we going to abandon all sense of decency and revert back to the ways that catered to them controlling us? I hope not.

He stands for something, and he never stood a chance.

The real threat to the power structure was discarded and cast off by the DNC in the primaries. He had the movement, the populism, the message and the fact that there is nothing that can scar or tar his image working in his favor; all of it combined and made him someone that they couldn't control so instead of an assassination that would have turned him into a martyr, they used the media to cover-up the fact that his primary campaign was rigged against him and now only wait to see if he just won't die of old age in the process. It's all so very nice and tidy for the elites. Nothing to investigate further. Just to continue playing the hand that they deal themselves. They've counted the cards, they've raised the stakes and they control the money.......so once again I ask, where do we go from here?

To Work! To the library! To Church! To school! To the outdoors! To the coffee shops and meeting places! To discuss, plan and act to put forward an agenda that continues to move us forward. It is evolution, not devolution. People need to abandon the xenophobic racism, the sexist philosophies, the complacency of our modern world and we need to act to build a better one. We need to pay more attention and we need to hit them where it counts and that is the pocket book.

Protests don't work. Stopping traffic is not the answer. The only thing the power structure and the elites care about is money and awareness. In the process we must find a way to make sure that everyone, everywhere is cared for, loved and respected; not feared, shunned or scapegoated. The only way they continue to win and maintain control over us is by dividing us into our pre-arranged camps. We are much better and bigger than Us vs. Them. We are the power, we are the people in control; but only if we act and realize that believing the lie that they continue to tell us is nothing more than the leash that drags us around. Having a choice every four years between two people bought and sold is not freedom.

Ladies and gentlemen, we are better than this. We are made of star dust. We are capable of so much more. We only have to trust our gut instincts and know that this happened because we let it happen, but we will not take it anymore. We must always remember the 8th of November. We are finally waking up and we are Outraged!!!!!





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Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Vol.199: Binge on the American Dream



                Spread the Outrage. Spread the Truth.

We Americans have seen everything imaginable. From the use of nuclear weapons, terrorist attacks on our homeland (maybe an inside job) to the inclusion of slavery into the birth of our nation. Whether it to believe in the sad reality and the results of the horrors of the modern world we have become binge consumers of the big screen; as a result our lifestyles have adapted to the televisions which raise our children and lure us into a sedated existence, unless of course what we are watching has some intelligent educational value or excellent writing. This election cycle has been no different. We have been entertained as we learned that the Democratic Party had rigged it's primaries in favor of what may turn out to be the Anti-Christ, and yet nothing happened. Ladies and gentlemen, the trail of bodies that the Clintons leave in their coincidental wake is astounding. The latest is Seth Rich, ie; see Vince Foster. Do the research. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3726250/Enemies-Hillary-Bill-say-27-year-old-murder-victim-Seth-Rich-suspected-leaking-DNC-emails-belongs-Clinton-Death-List-people-ties-couple-died-time.html     


Then there is the wavy haired, say it once and mean it, get criticized for it and deny it, lord of debt, the Donald. With his insinuation of violence toward his opponent becoming a new low, which seems to be a bar that he only seemingly lowers, week after week; but yet, nothing happens. The pundits spouse their prognostications and the news never changes. We have never seen or heard stranger things being uttered from candidates running for the highest office in the land. Ladies and gentlemen, once they are to become the President of the most powerful country in the world, we as a nation will have watched first hand truly, the making of a murderer. Drones that hover over foreign countries dropping laser guided bombs upon terrorists will one day find a home, miles above us, watching our every step that could be our last, with the push of a button. 

And then there is the man with the golden touch sitting over in the largest land mass with unlimited powers, unlimited natural resources and the look of a snake resting upon his face, Vladimir Putin. Whether it is getting appreciative gestures from Trump or being dragged out as the scapegoat for illegal hacks of uncovering illegal rigging of United States presidential democratic primaries, he plays the game like a Bond villain; the only thing missing is a fluffy white cat. 
"I see everything everywhere all the time."


Meanwhile women and children throughout the state of Florida and the island of Puerto Rico continue to be stung by the reluctance of our Congress to come back early from their summer vacations and actually do something of value for the suffering that they are under due to the media's latest catchphrase, Zika. 

Oh, but fear not ladies and gentlemen; we have the Olympics to care about. Never mind the hovels that make up Rio, let us bask in our first world ability to treat all of it as an extended holiday where we continually pat ourselves on the back. Just another distraction from the realities that if binged upon will only upset our fragile illusions as we choose instead to continue to live in a world of make believe, the American Dream. 




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Friday, July 1, 2016

Vol.198: Burn the Witch


                  Spread the Outrage. Spread the Truth.


Precariat: From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
In sociology and economics, the precariat is a social class formed by people suffering from precarity, which is a condition of existence without predictability or security, affecting material or psychological welfare. Unlike the proletariat class of industrial workers in the 20th century who lacked their own means of production and hence sold their labour to live, members of the Precariat are only partially involved in labour and must undertake extensive "unremunerated activities that are essential if they are to retain access to jobs and to decent earnings". Specifically, it is the condition of lack of job security, including intermittent employment or underemployment and the resultant precarious existence.[1]The emergence of this class has been ascribed to the entrenchment of neoliberal capitalism.[2][3]

Civilizations come and civilizations go. It's just a fact; it's simple really. There comes a time when a breaking point has been reached and there is nothing left to save; nobody can do anything about it, it just is.

Are we seeing the slow decay of time's neo-capitalistic noose around the neck of Europe? Are we seeing the inevitable results of a financial downturn not seen since the Great Depression and the natural pull back into a nationalistic frame of mind? How else does anyone explain the popularity of Donald Trump? The Brexit? Scapegoats are everywhere and anything can be sacrificed for the greater good, whether it be migrants, laws, morals, the environment. Nothing is off limits if it makes you feel better.


The precarious nature of the current state of existence for the world's most populous worker is just another sign that the water is beginning to boil and the frog in the pot is representative of the 1%. Sooner or later, the barbarians will storm the gates, unless of course we continue to be sedated with thoughtless pastimes, than nothing will happen. The linear quality of time will move forward without the slightest bump, except for the rising of temperatures.

It is an accepted fact that the companies we work for may pronounce in human relations friendly terms during new employee orientations that they hold nothing but our best interests at heart, but we know better; it is the shareholders they are concerned for; profits and nothing more. Everything and everyone is expendable and until the world's labor rises up to form a worldwide labor union, the scattered remains of production will continue to be moved across the board where the labor is the cheapest.

The work-life balance is that for many of us, we are going to have to work for the rest of our lives.



It is with this dread and storm cloud covered sky that she comes riding on her Benghazi broomstick. The unnatural laughter rising in pitch as her political smile widens. Her held high and her private server in the far corners of all of our minds. According to her spell that she has cast, it is her turn. Like a child's board game instead of a democratically elected process, it is her entitlement, it is her turn to wear the mantle. Unlike her husband, little is known of her sex-life, but she just may be the Book of Revelation's Whore of Babylon. She has chosen the paths of least resistance to get to where she is, standing on the threshold of greatness, and maybe, just maybe, years from now the truth will come out, that the whole thing was rigged. So, I for one will continue to feel the Bern and demand like our nation of pitchforks, all of us knowing better than the other, to the Burn the Witch!!! Burn the Witch!!!




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Monday, May 30, 2016

Vol. 197: What if I told You......

            An original "something in the works........"


            An elderly gentleman with shiny silver hair, dressed in a crisp dark suit sat on the park bench watching pigeons scrounge for crumbs from middle class employees on their lunch break. A well polished mahogany cane rested at his left side and a large red rose was pinned against his right breast as he sat with his well manicured hands in a pose of silent prayer. His lips moved but uttered no sound as he watched strangers pass by, catching the bright red rose out of the corner of their eyes; he smiled. The clouds appeared to be threatening rain. The city hall’s clock tower chimed noon. The elderly gentleman checked his gold watch that was attached to his left breast pocket and motioned his left hand in a wave. The nearby pigeons acquiesced and flew away toward the large elm trees that surrounded the small stone circle of the park.
            A younger man approached wearing a new cream colored suit, tailored to accentuate his youth and appreciation for physical fitness. His bright green eyes displayed eagerness as he saw the older man sitting on the park bench.
            “Stephen, I am glad you came to join me. I have been watching your progress at the firm over these past couple months and I’m impressed with what I have seen,” the gentleman said with a slight British accent.
            “Mr. Hermes, please, you are too kind,” the young man blushed.
            “Here, have a seat next to me. I was hoping we could have a chat this afternoon. There is no need to worry. I’ve spoken to the other partners and they are aware and most comfortable with giving you some time away from the desk,” he patted the empty space on the bench next to him, noticing the hesitation in the young man’s gesture.
            “Really, after all that the markets have been through the past couple of days?”
            “The markets will be there when you get back. Please, have a seat.”
            Stephen sat down next to the old man and out of the corner of his eye noticed a man wearing what looked to be a standard government issued dark suit on the park bench adjacent, staring at them. Stephen brushed it away from his mind and thought nothing more of it. He took a long sip from his overpriced cup of coffee and sat down.
            “Stephen, how long have you been with the firm? Six months, right?”
            “Yes, it will be six months in July. Why do you ask?”
            “Do you plan on staying with us and making a name for yourself at the firm, or are you like so many of these millenials today? Are you going to jump ship the first chance you get at making more money?”
            Stephen hadn’t been expecting this to be the conversation when he received the email earlier that morning. The subject line was something about a “bright future.”
            “Well, yes Mr. Hermes, I do plan on staying with the firm as long as possible. That’s of course if my work is up to their standards.”
            “Stephen, my dear boy, I don’t think that will be an issue. But truly, I didn’t want to talk to you about the firm’s position in the market or your ‘career’ with us. What I’m interested in to know is …how well can you keep a secret?”
            “Well, I guess.”
            “Well, I was hoping for something better than just ‘well’ my dear boy.”
            “I mean, I was in the brotherhood at college. But I guess you and the other partners already know that. So, yes, absolutely I can keep a secret.”
            “Good, that’s very good Stephen,” Mr. Hermes replied as he patted the bright red rose pinned to his right breast. “The reason being Stephen, is that there is something I need to tell you; something of the utmost importance. Something that will undoubtedly take up a great deal of your time away from the firm’s ‘official’ business, but what will help us maintain our position in the global markets for years to come.”
            “I don’t follow you sir. Pardon my hesitation but, if it’s not ‘official’ business, how can it be sanctioned by the firm and not only that, how can it benefit the firm’s position in the market?”
            “My dear boy, we are not talking about anything illegal in any shape or form. What I am talking about is something of such importance that the fate of the world as we know it, depends upon its safe keeping. What if I told you that there is a book that exists. A book so old, so rare and so powerful that he or she that has it and knows of it’s true purpose, well, he or she can, it’s fair to say, make dreams come true, or nightmares, depending on the color of the work.”
            “Mr. Hermes, sir, excuse me, but are you sure you’re feeling well?”
            “Please Stephen, what I’m trying to tell you is important. I need to tell you this and I need to know that I can trust you. Do you see that man over there, the one with the cheap suit and note pad?”
            “Yes, why?”
            “He’s been watching me for quite some time.”
            “Today? I noticed him when I got here, why?”
            “Not just today Stephen, for years.”
            “Years?”
            “Years. He is part of a secret group of men and women whose only agenda is to take possession of the book. They think I have it and they have been watching me for years, trying to ascertain its location.”
            “Mr. Hermes, I think you need to see a doctor. I honestly don’t think you’re thinking clearly.”
            “Why would I lie? I’m an old man in search of someone that I can pass this information on to. Someone that I can trust with my life. With all of our lives. Stephen, I know of the book’s location and I need for you to get it for me. Can you do that for me? Will you do that for me?”
            “Mr. Hermes, please, I think you need to lie down for a spell.”
            “Spell, precisely. Watch this. I’ll buy us a little more privacy and for your sake, maybe a little trust.” Mr. Hermes grabbed his cane, motioned it back and forth and muttered something in a low voice. The man in the cheap suit fell over on his side in an instant and began immediately snoring. “Now, what were you saying?”



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Monday, March 7, 2016

Vol. 196: It's Your Party...........

Vol.196: It's Your Party......



               Spread the Outrage. Spread the Truth.

"My God, what have we done??"
Their scorched carcasses were scattered in every direction as if picked up by a large carnivore and tossed like shredded toys; instead of strands of fuzz, bloodied limbs and pieces of scalp hung from tree branches. The scene was shrouded by the moans of bystanders and the screams of grown men and women rising to towards the heavens. 
"What have we done!!!"
The smell of burnt plastic and feces invaded their nostrils. Pieces of dollar bills fluttered in the wind like confetti.  
"Please, please, please help us."
"Somebody do something!"
"Medic! Medic!"
The spinning sirens of emergency vehicles and police cars piled up in jagged lines surrounded by hurried fire trucks as television cameras remained rolling. 
The clock at the bottom of the screen read 9:33pm as the ticker scrolled from left to right. 
Young children with their mouths hanging open held the hands of strangers. Candy wrappers and empty gas station coffee cups like shrapnel littered the ground. 
It was there they stood at the edge of the crater as they peered down into its cavernous center. A group of adults who shuffled to the site pointed at the carved out earth, kicking clumps of dirt and grass out of the way of their shaky steps, doing their best to balance themselves amidst the small puddles of blood they saw everywhere. 
"This is where it happened. Right down there."
"Tell me, tell me what happened."
"Who saw it? Who saw what happened here?"
"We all saw it happen. Christ, it was live on television every single day. Hell, they said biggest audience ever."
"Please somebody tell me, I'm losing my patience over here." 
"Take a breath and relax." 
"It's hard for me to explain. You might be too young to understand."
"Please, I want to know. We need to know what happened?"
"My God. This is unbelievable."
"Alright, I will give it a try. That right there, that is where the remains of the Republican party lay," a grey haired man stated, as he wiped away the tears from the corner of his tired eyes. He was comforted by the hands of a disheveled woman who rubbed his shoulders. The two of them teetered on the breeze from the stench of the echoes of his gregarious boasts. His long stray locks of bleached blond hair were scattered to the wind, taunting in his achievement as clumps of it hung from empty tree limbs as if flags of his bombastic victory. 
A couple of southern professor looking types fell to their knees and threw their hands to the skies, wailing in pain. 
"He was a grenade and he destroyed everything we held dear."
"Why oh why didn't one of them jump on it? If only one of them would of sacrificed themselves for the greater good of the party, none of this would of happened. Why didn't they do anything?"
"Hubris. Ignorance. Pride? I'm not quite sure anymore honey."
"I don't think anyone took him seriously. He was supposed to be just a passing fad. But, you have to realize, the attention spans of the American public wouldn't have lasted as long as they did, under normal circumstances."
"The media, the media is to blame. The liberal media has been loving every second of it too, haven't they?"
"What will we do? Now who's going to stop the Whore of Babylon from ascending to the throne?"
"I don't know. I simply don't know."
"Well, maybe there is comfort in the good book? Maybe all of this is supposed to happen. Trust in the Lord, I guess?"
No one said another word, but simply bowed their heads and one by one, left the scene in disbelief. 





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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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