Making it up as I go along
Don’t think I have any idea what I’m going to write about half the time when I open up one of these “new blog post” pages. It’s usually some combination of environment, mood, whatever has crossed my mental transom this past day, and, oh, I dunno, whatever the little six-legged people are whispering into my ears, or beaming into my third eye via telepathy through those busy antennae. Crafty little buggers, they are. Entire worlds we either don’t see, don’t care to see or don’t even think about.
So today was decent. Took care of a couple of items that were generating mild anxiety, had a pretty productive morning and afternoon, and managed to cogitate on a few things. While according to the planetary-movement prognosticators, the world is going to hell in a handbasket this week — Mercury retrograde for the next three weeks, something about Mars opposing Neptune, then the Moon squaring Uranus and Mars, along with some other stuff, which may or may not have something to do with riots in London, rampant “Tea Party” neo-confederates all over America, et cetera, ad infinitum, post hoc ergo propter hoc, veni vidi vici, in hoc signo vinces, vincebus eruptum, cogito cogito ergo cogito ngognog ngogn — I’m feeling all right. Well, yeah. All right.
Thangs are pretty jinky, though. While President Barack Obama doesn’t seem to have the stones to tell Standard & Poor — a division of schoolbook publishing house McGraw-Hill, which is controlled by various members of the McGraw family, big contributors to George W. Bush’s campaigns — to engage in a sustained act of coprophagy, followed by an immediate assumption of room temperature and subsequent organic necrosis, word has it that the Prez is fixing to deliver the message to Bashar Assad, authoritarian government administrator of Syria, on Thursday that Assad and his regime have to pack up and go to whatever Red Sea resort where Hosni Mubarak and his chums are holding court, or maybe permanent exile in Dubai, or Las Vegas. Apparently, some people are much better opthamologists than they are brutal dictators. Yes, Bashar Assad is a bad actor, the Kim Jong Il to his Kim Il Sung dad, Hafez al-Assad, who ruled Syria with an iron fist for nearly 30 years. But those jizzstains who run Standard & Poor ought to get called to account, too. Michael Moore has gone as far as call Barack Obama a pussy for not arresting the chief executive of the ratings “agency.” I’m kind of inclined to agree.
But screw it. One can walk around in a permanent state of disarray and angsty angst over politics. I used to live there. I’m really not very happy about the condition of the world, particularly the class war waged on the rest of us by the Koch brothers, Rupert Murdoch and their army of sock puppets and dupes. I’m more interested in bugs these days. That, and playing music (I’ll be playing at Luna’s Cafe this coming Saturday night) and, occasionally, entertaining but generally useless fantasies involving me and sundry women in various stages of undress. Yes, I am an old ‘tang enthusiast, or at least a middle-aged alterkocker.
I’m told this is a good place to stop, a little north of 500 words. Till next time. —Jackson Griffith