after getting past my oxymoronic tirade, if that’s what it was, i had to go shopping for some goodies for susan, the host of the bushwick book club because she was making “ice-nine” cocktails which required champagne, among other things.
it forced me to put an end to the previous note and move forward in this evening of this day of this life, but as happens often enough, as i entered my car, i had the radio tuned on to WFMU and as fate would have it, dave emory was just starting. i haven’t heard this guy in a long while, as i had been listening to less FMU because of my damaged antenna. the link here talks about the evening’s show. initially, it discussed a thing called the “M-fund” and then went on from there. it was sort of a “mixed bag” of terribleness.
i wouldn’t call emory a conspiracy theorist.
he’s more along the lines of an anti-fascist / anti-corporate theorist.
he tends to document everything he talks about to the point of dizziness.
no, that’s not dave emory.
it’s benito mussolini (with hair) and the link to the name is an example of emory’s work – this one is called “Uncle Sam and Il Duce” and it documents American banking and industrialist support for the world’s first corporate-fascist state: Mussolini’s Italy.
i don’t fret too much about the evils and machinations of the monsters lurking in the shadows anymore. not since i met that lizard guy who looks like omar sharif and sounds like eduardo ciannelli who put everything into perspective that day with the woman and those sharp, little teeth.
once it became simply, “a meal and a suit” issue, i drifted to a sense of “oh, well, all i need to do is live till i die.”
sometimes that’s all it takes, but i had to consider those aliens who scoop humanity up by the boatload and use us as batteries, but that’s another issue.
i reached some sort of saturation point when that guy and the bomb-lined crotch happened.
it caused me to remember things that would solidify the notion that we are at the mercy of things and people who might as well be the grifting lizards from mars. their agenda is beyond me and chances are, so is the U.S. intelligence community’s. so there i go – intelligence – again.
when i was working uptown in the late 1990’s until 2004, i knew a man by the name of john o’neill. i didn’t know him well, i didn’t know what he did for a living, but i had a gut feeling that he was some kind of cop.
this guy was intense.
oh, and i never saw him again after 9/11/2001.
he had just started his new job as head of security for the world trade center’s twin towers and it was a short time after that i would connect those tragic dots.
boy, was he in for a surprise, huh?
some time later (like, “in a lot”) PBS would produce this story, “the man who knew” about him.
some of this story centered on his investigation into the bombing of the USS ColeYEMEN ten years ago.
the late mister o’neill investigated only to get….no – you’ll have to watch the story and as you do, remember this word; intelligence.
but i digress(ed) –
this note started as i shopped for susan and the bushwick book club show where there was going to be songs about kurt vonnegut’s “cat’s cradle”
it’s a tragicomic novel about massive destruction, religion, human weakness and doom.
that’s the “broad stroke.”
it’s a book that’s like a bowl of chips.
before you know it, it’s finished.
that was my pitch for you to read the book.
the book was written around the time that i was getting post-surgical exams from doctor thomas matthew, the neurosurgeon who picked those bits of skull from my brains after meeting that chevrolet on the corner of avenue T and east 17th street in brooklyn on january 22nd, 1962.
i mention this because i still can.
someday soon, i might just humm, stare blankly and say something like “shit, i think i peed my pants. is it tuesday?”
the things KV wrote about then are things that are happening now, meaning that things don’t change very much, does it?
then again, the things charles dickens wrote about almost two hundred years ago haven’t changed either.
humanity is going to hell in a handbasket.
as i write this, i’m listening to the post-presidential press-conference with john brennan and janet napolitano and all i can say is, “uh-huh…”
both the shoe bomber and the underpants bomber’s unsuccessful bids were foiled by perspiration – nothing else.
take it from me.
this was a “lack of intelligence” by the bad guys, so “it’s a wash”
an intelligence wash.
there will not be an armpit bomber. maybe.
…..but back to the bushwick book club and the great piece written the next day in the greenpoint gazette, not to mention the pictures i took, some that you can see here, on facebook and even myspace. there’s even more on our photobucket, too.
matthew related his urine-mingling bathroom story and sang –
….and julie related her amazing story that i won’t tell you about because, well, you had to be there…..-
…. franz sang about “goodbye” in the nuclear sense…
and dan and rachel not only sounded brilliant, but looked…..tall. really tall.
i survived another evening newscast while putting this note together.
i floated in a pool of love and acceptance.
we’re all toast, buttered.