so at least i’m not going to go on about the vice presidential debate. not yet, at least. the blog title is about some of the stuff that was going on in my head when i was driving to pick up things for the store. some people call this place (GBM)”a bar” and others call it a “club.” scrap bar was a “bar.” studio 54 or the Copacabana was a “club.” the most you’ll ever hear me call this place is a “place” a “store” a “coffeehouse” a “cafe” and at most, a “tavern”. i just felt the need to say this. i’m done. now i’ll start talking about what i wrote in the header above.
we know that the shit has been hitting the fan for some time now. this bailout and the panic connected to it is just the biggest, brightest, “HELLO! DO WE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION?” to come down the pike. the heroic house and senate, a gang who for better or worse, played a part in the debacle, are busy backslapping themselves with one hand and hanging a hand on the shoulder of another hero with the other. a heroic and historic vote they call it, when in reality they just caught the shit that hit the fan and is handing it the american taxpayer’s children. here’s to heroism. if you look a bit below on the definition, you’ll find the antonym of that word. that’s what the house and congress showed in the years leading to this extraordinary act of courage. bless the few voters who may have displayed honest shame and embarrassment on this day. screw the pompous asses who cling to the belief that the “market” could take care of itself without oversight. we’re all as honest as we can afford to be and many more of us less so. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again – you can’t take it with you, so why is it so important to steal it? but i understand the horrible addiction greed must be. ayn rand idealized it in “atlas shrugged” and forgot the “human element.” how can anyone go a thousand pages and forget that people are people? i’ll tell you. she was known on mars as “the lizard*princess blabbermouth.” well, at least the lizard who dined on ms.rand was called that. that con-artist lizard feasted on ayn rand right after the success of “the fountainhead” and laid the big con by writing atlas shrugged. needless to say, grifting martian lizards are very literary. she had a party writing that book, but her tight-assed-wordiness gave her the “blabbermouth” monicker. on mars with the lizards, they’re more about a brevity of words. they gobbled up the executive board of nike’ the same afternoon their ads hit the airwaves with “just do it.”
so, the lizards appeared in their offices on 57th street and just did it. deeeeee-lish.
imagine this; i just read somewhere on this information superhighway that angelina jolie wants to play dagney taggart from the lizard*princess blabbermouth’s book. ain’t that a hoot!?
watch your back Angie!
before i go on – if you’ve been reading my stuff for a while, you no doubt noticed the amount of links i’ve been adding to words and phrases like the one above. (down the pike) it’s because i’ve been using so many of these words all my life and now, what with this wondrous innernet, i can see where it all comes from and sometimes it’s just plain old fun, plus i’ve just learned to use these bells and whistles on the blog and like other people who form an addiction to good or bad business practices, i can’t stop, ya dig?
and so on……
so i’m officially giving up on dirtybookart and all of the remaining stock of dirtybookart’s brilliant tee-shirts will go into a box in the store and they’ll be for sale for ten bucks (hint-hint! recession-season-christmas is coming!!).
even a big shot hollywood star bought one. that’s goldie hawn’s kid, kate hudson.
close but no cigar!
it’s the end result of part of my financial meltdown that happened two years ago. so yes, i understand how we can procrastinate about taking care of business when things need to be addressed. the only difference is that my decisions haven’t hamstrung an already in-the-crapper-economy. you didn’t vote and entrust me to watch your back. good move. i wouldn’t vote for me. that’s why i’ll never understand how people who voted for partyboybush could be suckered once-again by “homespun table talk”. here’s something for the people who buy that shit – she’s about as ready for high office as george w. was, which means she’s about as ready as I AM, and consequently as YOU ARE. if you’re joe-sixpack, read this when you’re not drunk. you’ve got your hands full. sorry sarah, i don’t think it would be a good idea for you to be a heartbeat away from the presidency of a man who is probably still screaming in his sleep at times, something no one ever considers. look up Thomas Eagleton, McGovern’s runningmate. there’s a certain amount of anxiety i exhibit when a person’s physical and mental state is put into question. there’s even more when i know that someone’s gone through serious, longtime trauma and there’s barely a peep about it.
i want a president and vice-president who both know how to read.
i want to know that i might have at least a chance to live as an american, whatever that means. i want to know that there are fewer grifting lizards* giggling or laughing wildly as they’ve been these past years. they’ll be there nonetheless, but they might have to “behave” for a while; but as any grifting lizard worth his or her nitrogen compounds knows, you’ve got to pick your spots. greedy-human farming is like the weather. eight years of bushpresidency to them was a blessing from the the big math, the eighth-electro-plasma ocean of the ninth dimension, something that i will get to later – but it was a bumpercrop of deliciousness, a windfall of financial folderol…. and so much more to the martian lizards…..
but i have got to talk about this waiter in Denny’s that day….
the staff of this place had an average age of 22, so my eyes are drawn to this guy in the process of being trained to be a server. he didn’t belong here. he’s about 45 years old and is “tailored.” by this i mean he’s impeccably attired (well, almost) except for the shirt; he looked like he had a gym membership, a constant regimen and probably had a hairstyling every two weeks but the strangeness was in the eyes. he’s being briefed as to what was where at the sidestand. “the glassracks are kept here…” kind of stuff.. – now maybe i’m projecting something here but i doubt it and if i am, i’d still have to be pretty sure this is happening in the real-life america, anyway.
this man was living a nightmare and i could see it. did you ever see a stranger that you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, had been thrust into a totally unreal situation? a mixture of panic, fear and anger is in the eyes and he’s “stuck” and when he became unstuck, his ability to move in any direction was hampered because that would require making a decision in totally unfamiliar surroundings. to borrow from an earlier blog, (september 20th) – he found himself in “Beetlejuice” and was one of the Maitlands who were stuck outside of their house and had to deal with the sandworms. he looked like he had a very good life, was earning a very good living and “poof” something happened (as is happening all over this land) and as a husband with a wife and kids, he did what he had to do. i’m making this guy’s story up. i don’t know this man, but he was all wrong for where he was. i was waiting for him to either bust out crying or run amock. this wasn’t an “American Beauty” kevin spacey character choice.
we know this – it’s no movie, but they’ve been making movies about these kinds of things since the depression (the otherdepression), most lately two “Fun with Dick and Jane” movies, but reaching back to My Man Godfrey, from the ’30’s, one of the best screwball comedies ever.
google video has the whole movie.
this film along with “dead end” are wonderfully gentle reminders that at the “core” of the world of rich and poor, nothing has really changed and probably never will.
these were plays that became films, one comedy, one drama with new york as backdrop.
they are 70 years old and it’s just all the same. check them out.
i’m rooting for that guy in denny’s, or at least anyone who’s been caught in this web of drastic change. i watched warren buffet speak to charlie rose a few days back. i like this guy. you’ve got to like a billionaire who openly acknowledges that he’s being undertaxed AS IS ALL OF THE UPPEST FIVE-PERCENT. i don’t think those lizards got to him, and there might lie the hope that you don’t necessarily have to be from mars to be a human being with a lot of money. after all, your humanity as well as your insides go the second you make a deal with them. ask george bush. change that. they didn’t want him.
i’ll have to let the asterisk be a holdover to another blog. i realize that i have to do work on the blog itself for it to make sense.
this leaves me with maxx and the car window. dogs are forever-two-year-olds.
when we were driving out to gateway national park last week, i glanced over to my dog whose head was craned out the window feeling the 60mph wind in his face. i envied the hell out of him. i wished i could be as one with the moment as he was. i aspire to that, probably more than anything in the world. while he ran and splashed and was a dog that day, i wondered when i last acted like a two year old.
probably when i was two.
oh, and that debate. i looked into her eyes and there was nobody home.